# Sally Field: Love, Loss, and Burt Reynolds — The Untold Story
Sally Field has won two Academy Awards, three Emmys, and the respect of an industry that once dismissed her as a sitcom star. But ask her about the love of her life, and she doesn’t name a husband (she’s had two). She names Burt Reynolds — the mustachioed box-office king with whom she shared five tumultuous years, some of her best films, and a connection she describes, even now, as transformative.
Their relationship — passionate, complicated, and ultimately heartbreaking — reveals the private Sally Field: the woman behind the “you like me” speech, the actress who loved deeply and lost painfully, and who emerged stronger for it.
How They Met: Smokey and the Bandit
Field and Reynolds met in 1977 on the set of Smokey and the Bandit. She was cast as Carrie (“Frog”), the runaway bride, partly because Reynolds — who had script approval — wanted her. He’d seen her in Sybil and been impressed by her dramatic chops. He also, by his own admission, thought she was cute.
The chemistry was immediate and electric. Their banter on screen — improvised, flirtatious, genuine — was the real thing. Off screen, they fell hard. Field was 30, divorced, with two young sons. Reynolds was 41, Hollywood’s biggest star, and a notorious bachelor. It shouldn’t have worked. It did, gloriously, for a while.
“He was charming, funny, and so alive,” Field wrote in her memoir. “I was lonely, and he filled a space I didn’t know was empty.”
The Golden Couple
For five years, Field and Reynolds were Hollywood royalty. They made four films together: Smokey and the Bandit (1977), The End (1978), Hooper (1978), and Smokey and the Bandit II (1980). They were on magazine covers. They were the “it” couple — the serious actress and the fun-loving star, the odd couple that worked.
But the dynamic was complicated. Reynolds was the bigger star, the higher earner, the one whose name sold tickets. Field, fresh off her Norma Rae Oscar, was the more respected actor. He was the life of the party; she was the introspective artist. He wanted to have fun; she wanted to explore dark, challenging roles.
“He needed me to be a certain way,” Field reflected. “Light. Fun. Undemanding. And for a while, I tried. But that’s not who I am.”
Reynolds, for his part, adored her but didn’t fully understand her ambition. He was content being the king of box-office comedy. She wanted to be Meryl Streep. The gap between their aspirations — and their insecurities — eventually became unbridgeable.
The Breakup: What Really Happened
Field ended the relationship in 1982. The reasons were complex: Reynolds’ unwillingness to commit to marriage, his jealousy of her career success, his reliance on painkillers (which Field found troubling), and — perhaps most importantly — Field’s growing realization that she was losing herself.
“I was disappearing,” she wrote. “I was becoming ‘Burt’s girlfriend’ instead of Sally Field. And I’d fought too hard to become Sally Field to give her up.”
The breakup devastated Reynolds. He later called Field the love of his life and said losing her was his greatest regret. In his own memoir, he wrote: “I was stupid. I should have married her. I don’t know why I didn’t. I think I was afraid.”
Field was more circumspect but equally affected. “Loving Burt was real,” she said in 2018. “Losing him was real too. But I had to choose myself.”
After Burt: Finding Herself
After Reynolds, Field focused on her career with renewed intensity. She won her second Oscar (Places in the Heart, 1984), did some of her best work (Steel Magnolias, Forrest Gump), and raised her three sons (two from her first marriage, one from her second, to producer Alan Greisman).
She married Greisman in 1984, but the marriage ended in divorce in 1994. Since then, she’s remained single — by choice, she insists. “I’ve learned to be happy alone,” she said in 2020. “It took me a long time.”
Her memoir, In Pieces (2018), was startlingly honest about her childhood sexual abuse (by her stepfather), her complicated relationship with her mother, and her struggles with self-worth. It reframed her entire public image — not as the needy “you like me” girl, but as a survivor who’d overcome profound trauma to build an extraordinary career.
The Reynolds Reunion That Never Happened
Reynolds and Field remained connected, in a way, for the rest of his life. He spoke about her often, always with love and regret. She spoke about him rarely, but when she did, it was with affection.
In 2018, shortly before Reynolds’ death, there were reports that Field had visited him. She never confirmed it, but in her tribute after he died on September 6, 2018, she was generous: “He was a great friend, a wonderful actor, and I will miss him.”
Privately, friends say she was deeply affected. Whatever had gone wrong between them, the love had been real. And in Hollywood, where relationships are often transactional, that mattered.
The Untold Legacy: Strength Through Vulnerability
What makes Sally Field’s story special isn’t just the awards or the famous roles. It’s her willingness to be vulnerable — to cry on stage, to write honestly about abuse, to admit she loved a man who couldn’t give her what she needed.
In an industry that rewards armor, Field chose openness. It cost her — the “you like me” mockery, the tabloid coverage of her relationships, the public dissection of her personal life. But it also made her performances transcendent. When Field cries on screen, you believe it, because you know she’s cried in real life.
“I’ve lived a lot of life,” she said in 2021, at 74. “Good, bad, painful, joyful. I put it all into my work. That’s the only way I know how to act.”
The girl who flew as a nun, who held up a UNION sign, who cried “you like me” — she’s still here, still working, still honest. And Hollywood, which once dismissed her, now honors her as one of the greats.
Burt Reynolds once said Sally Field was the one who got away. But perhaps the real story is different: perhaps Sally Field was the one who got herself back. And that may be the greatest love story of all.
The Burt Reynolds Films: Working with Love
Field and Reynolds made four films together, each reflecting their relationship’s stages:
Smokey and the Bandit (1977): The beginning — playful, flirtatious, full of joy. Their chemistry is the film’s engine. You can see them falling in love.
The End (1978): Reynolds directed this dark comedy about a man who wants to commit suicide. Field played his pregnant girlfriend. It’s uneven, but their scenes have a tenderness that suggests real intimacy.
Hooper (1978): A love letter to stuntmen, with Reynolds as an aging stuntman and Field as his girlfriend. It’s their most relaxed collaboration — two people comfortable with each other.
Smokey and the Bandit II (1980): The end — tired, repetitive, going through the motions. Their chemistry is still there, but the joy is gone. It mirrors their relationship’s decline.
Watching these films in sequence is like watching a relationship begin, deepen, and fade. It’s rare to see real love — and real loss — captured on screen.
The Aftermath: Co-Parenting Hollywood
After their 1982 split, Field and Reynolds navigated Hollywood’s small world with dignity. They didn’t badmouth each other (much). They attended the same events. They were professionals.
But friends say it was hard. “They loved each other,” recalled director Hal Needham. “They just couldn’t make it work. That’s the saddest kind of breakup.”
Reynolds never fully got over it. He mentioned Field in almost every interview for the rest of his life — always with love, always with regret. “She was the one,” he’d say. “I was a fool.”
Field was more private, but her memoir reveals the depth of her feelings. “Loving Burt was like loving a hurricane,” she wrote. “Exhilarating and destructive. I’m glad I did. I’m glad it’s over.”
The Lesson: Choosing Yourself
Field’s decision to leave Reynolds was, in many ways, her most important role — the moment she chose herself over love. It’s a choice many women face: the charming, exciting man who can’t give you what you need, versus the harder path of independence.
She chose independence. It wasn’t easy — she loved him. But she knew that staying would mean disappearing. And she’d fought too hard to become Sally Field to disappear into “Burt’s girlfriend.”
“I don’t regret loving him,” she said in 2018. “I regret the years I spent trying to be someone I wasn’t. The moment I chose myself, everything changed.”
It’s a powerful message — particularly from a woman famous for wanting to be liked. Sometimes, the bravest thing is to stop trying to be liked and start being yourself.
Field learned that lesson with Burt Reynolds. She’s lived it ever since. And her career — the Oscars, the iconic roles, the respect — is proof that choosing yourself isn’t selfish. It’s survival.
The love story didn’t have a happy ending. But Sally Field’s story did — because she wrote it herself.