At 78 years old, Sally Field stands as one of Hollywood’s most beloved and respected actresses.

With two Oscars and a career spanning decades filled with unforgettable roles, she has long been admired for her talent, warmth, and authenticity.

Yet behind the applause and accolades lies a side of Sally rarely seen by the public—a side shaped by betrayal, conflict, and deep personal wounds inflicted by some of Hollywood’s most prominent actors.

Now, with the wisdom of age, Sally Field has bravely revealed the names of six actors she hated the most, exposing painful stories of manipulation, disrespect, and emotional hardship that haunted her long after the cameras stopped rolling.

 

Sally Field’s relationship with Burt Reynolds was tabloid gold in the late 1970s.

As the power couple of the era, their on-screen chemistry in *Smokey and the Bandit* was electric, making the film a cultural phenomenon.

But behind the scenes, the reality was far darker.

Sally described Burt Reynolds as controlling and dismissive, a man who thrived on dominance and belittled anyone who threatened his spotlight—even her.

 

In her memoir *In Pieces*, Sally peeled back the glossy veneer of Hollywood glamour to reveal how Burt would mock her looks, question her intelligence, and undermine her acting ability with subtle but cutting remarks.

He demanded she remain silent and smile beside him, treating her more like a prized possession than a partner.

His emotional manipulation—switching between charm and cold punishment—eroded Sally’s sense of self.

Despite her love for him, she admitted, “I never felt truly seen. I was there, but not me. Not the full me.”

 

Burt Reynolds was heartbreak disguised as the bandit to the world, and Sally’s experience with him was only the beginning of her struggles.

 

On the set of *Backroads*, Sally Field hoped for a meaningful collaboration.

Instead, she encountered cold indifference from Tommy Lee Jones.

From the first day, Jones was dismissive, barely acknowledging her presence and refusing to engage in the usual camaraderie between actors.

He came to set, delivered his lines, and left without warmth or respect.

For Sally, who built her career on emotional authenticity, this chill was disorienting.

She described feeling like dead weight, isolated on a set where she was supposed to play two broken people learning to love—except she was acting alone.

Despite her efforts to break the ice with jokes and conversation, Jones remained aloof, treating her as if she didn’t belong.

Critics later panned the film for lack of chemistry, unaware that the real problem was the emotional frostiness between the leads.

Sally never worked with Tommy Lee Jones again, and though she never publicly lashed out, the coldness lingered in her memories.

 

During filming of *Say Goodbye, Maggie Cole*, Sally Field faced one of the most volatile co-stars she ever encountered: Robert Blake.

Known for intense method acting and erratic mood swings, Blake brought chaos to every corner of the set.

He frequently changed lines mid-scene, sabotaged takes with unscripted behavior, and created a hostile environment with verbal outbursts and mood swings that unsettled the entire crew.

Sally struggled to maintain rhythm and peace amid Blake’s unpredictability, often playing peacekeeper to keep the production afloat.

The tension became impossible to hide, and the project was eventually shelved before airing.

For Sally, this was more than a professional setback—it was traumatic.

She described Blake as an actor who tried to make everyone else small so he could feel big.

His sharp words were deeply personal, leaving lasting scars.

From that experience, Sally vowed never again to tolerate chaos disguised as genius.

 

On the surface, Sally Field and Shirley MacLaine seemed a dream duo in *Steel Magnolias*, two Hollywood icons sharing a powerful story of love and resilience.

But behind the scenes, their relationship was fraught with tension.

Sally approached the film with emotional sensitivity, seeking honesty and nuance in her role as a grieving mother.

Shirley, however, treated the set like a battlefield.

 

Colleagues whispered that Shirley dominated scenes with sarcastic quips, turning raw grief into comedic fodder and undercutting Sally’s emotional performance.

Despite trying to remain gracious, Sally was privately exhausted by the clash of egos.

Shirley needed to dominate the room; Sally simply wanted to serve the story.

The damage lingered long after filming ended.

While audiences wept at Sally’s heartbreaking monologue, she knew the real pain had happened off camera.

The sting of that rivalry never left her.

Working with James Woods on *Kiss Me Goodbye* was supposed to be a light-hearted experience, but it quickly turned into psychological warfare.

Known for his brooding intensity, Woods dissected lines, challenged the director, and rewrote dialogue without warning.

Every rehearsal became a battleground.

 

Sally, a collaborative and emotionally honest performer, felt steamrolled by Woods’s intellectual dominance.

He questioned her performance mid-scene and created an atmosphere of tension that stifled creativity.

More disturbing were his off-camera remarks, suggesting she wasn’t giving enough and accusing her of phoning it in during demanding shoots.

To Sally, this was less criticism and more sabotage—an attempt to make her feel small and unsure of herself.

After years of carving out respect in a male-dominated industry, this was a bitter pill to swallow.

Sally later reflected that the experience was not an acting challenge but a psychological minefield, wearing her down by forcing her to constantly defend her worth.

She vowed never again to be silenced by a man who mistook condescension for brilliance.

 

Perhaps the most surprising name on Sally’s list is Dustin Hoffman, a revered actor known for his Oscar-winning roles.

Though they never co-starred, their paths nearly crossed during auditions for a project that never materialized.

For Sally, the experience was one of the most humiliating of her career.

 

During the chemistry read, Hoffman dominated the room with jokes and pointed remarks, interrupting Sally’s reading multiple times—not to collaborate but to correct and question her choices in front of everyone.

Sally felt humiliated, like a schoolgirl auditioning for a man who had already decided she wasn’t enough.

 

The sting deepened when she heard Hoffman bragged about sabotaging the audition, ensuring the chemistry wasn’t there.

For Sally, this was cruel and unprofessional.

It took weeks for her to realize the problem wasn’t her performance but Hoffman’s need to prove he was the smartest man in the room by stepping on others.

She called it one of the most demeaning moments she endured professionally and vowed never again to work with men who mistook arrogance for genius.

 

Sally Field’s candid revelations expose the darker side of Hollywood, where talent and fame don’t always shield one from cruelty and conflict.

Her stories remind us that behind every celebrated performance lies a human being navigating complex relationships and personal battles.

At 78, Sally’s courage in naming the actors she hated most is not just an act of honesty but a powerful testament to resilience and self-respect in an industry that often tests both.

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