Like a preppie '70s version of his indelible antihero in The Big Lebowski, Jeff Bridges floats aimlessly through Stay Hungry, unencumbered by barbaric notions like work, responsibility, growing up, or contributing to society. A professional dilettante who has elevated goofing off to an almost Zen-like state, he's no less lovable for his aversion to meaningful labor. But as the film opens, his propriety-minded Southern extended family has lost patience with his meandering. Thankfully, director/co-screenwriter Bob Rafelson and Pumping Iron author Charles Gaines (who co-wrote Stay Hungry's screenplay, as well as the semi-autobiographical novel on which it's based) are far more indulgent. The 1976 film's best moments are dedicated to an of-its-era commitment to living in the moment, leisurely trolling for transcendent peaks wherever they might be found.
The film's story is pure Maturation 101. A companion piece to the winning documentary Pumping Iron, Stay Hungry uses the then-fringe subculture of bodybuilding as the means by which Bridges evolves from a hyperactive perpetual adolescent to a man in control of his own destiny. A dark third act ends up overtaken by an arbitrary subplot involving thuggish businessmen, but Stay Hungry smartly privileges vivid characterizations and an acutely observed sense of place over plot.
Chief among Stay Hungry's charms is the opportunity it provides to see iconic actors play characters antithetical to their trademark roles. Future horror-movie icon Robert Englund brings a squirrelly comic effervescence to his manic gym rat, while Sally Field pulls off the role of an oversexed gym-bunny who oscillates between Bridges and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Most surprising of all is an unexpectedly reserved, thoughtful Schwarzenegger, whose part closely mirrors his own life. The film tempers the comic bravado and preternatural cockiness exhibited in Pumping Iron, affording him a rare opportunity to play a dramatic character instead of his usual cartoon superhero. A smiley-face ending feels like a lazy copout, but the end credits, which put faces to all the names in the uniformly fine cast, underline this shaggy sleeper's greatest strength: creating a slew of characters worth getting to know.