Almost ten years ago, a young Iain Armitage—long before he became known worldwide as the precocious lead of Young Sheldon—walked onto a set in Colorado Springs without any sense that he was about to work alongside a Hollywood legend. The icon was Robert Redford, and the experience would become one of the defining memories of Armitage’s early career. What stayed with him, however, wasn’t the fame, the accolades, or even the pressure of sharing a frame with a cinematic giant. It was something quieter—and far more enduring: kindness.
A Childhood Role Beside a Hollywood Legend
Armitage was cast as a boy named Jamie, a role that placed him in the orbit of Redford during what would be among the veteran actor’s final on-screen performances. The setting—Colorado’s sweeping scenery and the down-to-earth atmosphere of a film production—created a vivid backdrop for a formative experience. Yet the young actor didn’t see it as a milestone or a career stepping-stone at the time. He saw it as an adventure. He remembers feeling delighted, curious, and utterly absorbed by the simple joy of making a movie.
He didn’t fully grasp the magnitude of Redford’s legacy—decades of celebrated work as an actor, director, and producer, as well as his influence in nurturing independent cinema. To a child on set, the day-to-day felt more like summer camp than cinema history. That innocence gave him the freedom to be present, to play, and to notice the human moments that often get lost in an industry obsessed with status.
Playtime Between Takes: Marshmallows, Baseball, and Model Trains
Ask Armitage what he remembers most from that shoot, and he won’t begin with box office numbers or awards. He’ll tell you about roasting marshmallows after a long day, tossing a baseball between setups, and assembling model trains with the kind of focus only a kid can bring to a carefully laid track. Those small, tactile joys became the texture of his time on set—simple, wholesome pastimes that anchored him amid the lights and lenses.
It was precisely in that relaxed atmosphere that Redford’s character revealed itself. The veteran performer didn’t loom as an untouchable figure. He was present, respectful, and gentle with a young co-star who was still discovering what a film set even meant. That quiet generosity left a deeper impression than any curtain call ever could.
“He Was Kind to Me”: The Lesson That Endured
Redford’s colleagues affectionately called him “Bob,” but Armitage—out of instinctive deference—preferred to say “Mr. Robert.” The choice felt right to him. Behind the camera, the child actor observed a man who made space for others and treated everyone with steady courtesy. Armitage later put his feelings in writing, penning a simple note to the screen icon during the shoot that expressed the heart of it all: he was kind.
Years later, that sentiment resonates even more. As Armitage has grown and worked across multiple sets, he’s seen how rare genuine kindness can be in an industry fueled by ego and expectation. He now recognizes that Redford’s presence offered a master class—not just in acting, but in humanity. Professionalism matters, yes, but the way you carry yourself matters even more. For a young actor still forming his identity, that lesson was priceless.
Looking Back as Redford Steps Away From the Spotlight
Today, as Robert Redford largely withdraws from acting and public life, Armitage speaks about him with visible gratitude. He reflects not only on what Redford achieved—an Oscar-winning career, a trailblazing legacy with the Sundance Institute and its festival, and a central role in shaping modern American cinema—but also on how he made people feel. The reverence in Armitage’s voice extends to everyone who worked with Redford, from fellow actors to longtime collaborators who considered him a friend.
He thinks of Redford’s “film family,” the colleagues who spent years building stories together; of the festival community that grew around Sundance and championed independent voices; and of Redford’s own family, who shared a loved one with the world. In that view, legacy isn’t a list of credits. It’s a circle of people whose lives were made better by knowing you.
Beyond Awards: The Human Legacy of Sundance’s Founder
Redford’s professional accomplishments are indisputable—landmark roles on screen, visionary work behind the camera, and the cultivation of a creative ecosystem that gave rise to countless storytellers. But Armitage’s story cuts to a deeper truth: influence is not measured only by premieres, plaques, or festival laurels. It is measured by the human beings who carry your example forward.
Kindness on set can seem like a small thing, especially when compared with the scale of a major production. Yet it sets the tone for the work, builds trust, and shapes memories that last far beyond opening weekend. Redford embodied that ideal, and a young co-star—who would later become a star in his own right—never forgot it.
A Reminder for Fans and Filmmakers Alike
In a culture that often chases celebrity headlines, Armitage’s recollections are a gentle recalibration. They bring us back to what matters most: connection, respect, and the way people treat one another when the spotlight isn’t on. For audiences, the story offers a window into the heart behind a formidable career. For filmmakers and crews, it’s a case study in leadership—proof that grace under pressure can be as influential as raw talent.
There is also something universal in the memory of marshmallows, baseball, and model trains. These images remind us that even the most storied careers are built on days just like any other: shared meals, small rituals, and easy conversations that turn coworkers into friends. Those moments feel rare because they’re real, and because they belong to everyone on set—not just the names above the title.
Why This Matters
Iain Armitage’s story about Robert Redford isn’t merely a sweet behind-the-scenes anecdote. It’s a roadmap for how legacies are truly made. Achievements fade into film history; kindness lives on in people. For a young actor who grew up to lead a beloved television series, the most enduring lesson from working with a Hollywood icon was not technique or timing, but the simple power of being good to others.
As fans continue to celebrate Redford’s extraordinary body of work and the transformative impact of Sundance, Armitage’s memories offer a personal, human counterpoint. They remind us that greatness is measured not only by what you create, but by how you make others feel while creating it. In that sense, the Colorado set was more than a place of work. It was a classroom, and the lesson—one of respect, warmth, and generosity—still resonates. If the next generation of artists carries that standard forward, Redford’s legacy will remain alive in every scene where kindness leads the way.