Risk it all: the stunt artists speak

Stunt performers are unfairly overlooked. They are the action that gets us out of our seats. They are the guts and the glory; the spinning cars, scaling walls, and hair-raising feats that actors themselves (aside from a well-known few) would rather choose to not do. And yet, as the Oscars prepares to bestow awards to Stunt Design in 2027, the performers remain in the shadows.

When Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood (2019) was released, it made me think of some of the great stunt-actor friendships (Zack Duhame, interviewed in this issue, was Brad Pitt’s stunt double for the movie—the stunt double’s stunt double, so to speak). Steve McQueen and Bud Ekins come to mind. As do Heidi Moneymaker and Scarlett Johansson or Bobby Holland Hanton and Chris Hemsworth. In this issue, Hanton speaks to A Rabbit’s Foot about this friendship, among other things, and is currently top dog in the stunt world—the go-to for almost every blockbuster Hollywood franchise you can think of.

I was most interested to learn more about a world which truly feels like a secret society of outlaws. Stunt artists have unions, communities, academies, and few get a job without being vouched for by an experienced head. They know they’re getting the rotten end of the stick when it comes to their own visibility or accolades, but many have the stiff-lipped resolve of military men and women. The job is what matters, and nothing, they all agree, feels better than the rush of completing a death-defying feat. Throughout these pages are insights from the stunt artists themselves. The Bonds, Indiana Joneses, Thors, Trinities, Superwomen, and Robin Hoods that make us gasp with excitement in scenes where heroes are made and where every act can prove to be glorious… or fatal.

We’re used to being suppressed or out of the limelight. But recently, actors who appreciate our craft are no longer pretending that the stunts are them. They’re not the badass ones. Our school was driving and riding bikes. I’m hoping people aren’t going to push themselves too hard to win the new Oscar award, trying to do bigger, crazier, and more dangerous stuff. It’s stunt design, though, not stunt performing. What’s baffling is there’s a category for make-up, casting… but not us.

My favourite stunt is the iconic, real-life barrel roll car jump in The Man with the Golden Gun (1974), performed by Loren Willert in an AMC Hornet. I know people who try to recreate it and they just can’t. I fell in love with stunts through James Bond. When I got the call to be cast in No Time to Die (2021), it was epic.

We did a backflip in a Canam off-road buggy for Stuntnuts (release date TBC). My friend broke his back, the schedule was pushed, it was then or never. That’s thrilling. But also doubling Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (2023), playing his younger version. Ford is all go; he doesn’t wait around. He wants to do the stunts but he’s told not to, so I had to watch him curb himself. And, obviously, Chris Pratt’s double for Jurassic World: Dominion (2022).

That’s the dreaded words from a director: “We’ll make this scene CGI.” The reason I’m in this business is for real action. It’s a knife in the back when they opt for CGI, but even as a pro I’m struggling to tell what’s real on the screen these days. But ironically, it’s the big franchises that want the real action: Bond, Marvel… Having said that, stunt performers, such as David Leitch, Damian Walters, are becoming filmmakers and ensuring there continues to be a space for us.

A lot of us perform live at first. We’re used to the pressure of performing crazy stuff. But you can’t be a daredevil everyday, so you need to get in the mindset of a calculated athlete. Before a stunt, you have to curb your emotions, wait, and then go for it. The camera adds little pressure.

I grew up on a dirt road in rural Georgia, working cattle pastures and riding horses, so hard physical work was normal early on. Motorsports came later by choice—I drag raced 1,000cc motorcycles, performed as a freestyle stunt rider in live shows, and later drifted cars for the Lights, Motors, Action! stunt show at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. Outside of that work, I also had my own private drift car. Film stunts became a way to apply that discipline and precision to storytelling.

My proudest moments are when preparation wins—when something difficult works exactly as planned because the team respected the process. The hairiest moments are when conditions change unexpectedly—weather, surface, or a machine—and you still have to stay calm, adapt, and deliver without cutting corners.

I wish I’d done some of the practical vehicle work from earlier eras, before digital safety nets. Not because it was reckless—but because it was honest. You can feel when real machines are doing real work, and that still holds up. Audiences still value “real” stunts in a digital era. You can enhance a lot in post, but you can’t fake weight or consequence. Real stunts behave differently, and the audience feels that—even if they don’t consciously know why.

A stunt from the past I deem especially Oscar-worthy? The truck flip in The Dark Knight (2008). It’s restrained, practical, and completely story-driven. No excess—just commitment and execution.

I only worry an Oscar focused on stunt design will change what kinds of stunts get made if people confuse design with decoration. Good design doesn’t remove danger—it controls it. The real risk is losing honesty, not losing chaos.

I became a stunt performer because of my dad. He carved his own path in the industry as a stunt-man/stunt coordinator/director and is a fun, present, and larger-than-life guy. Seeing that way of life as a young man was too intoxicating not to try my hand at it. I was also drawn to the freedom, relationships, and variety it brings.

I’m most proud of the work we did on Lone Survivor (2013) where we spent a couple of months falling down sections of cliffs, clipping trees and egging each other on. Falling down a hill is such a classic stunt, you don’t need to try to do anything new; you just need to go for it and, with the right group, it’s all fun. The action impacted the story and the characters deeply, which to me is the most satisfying.

Audiences value real stunts more than ever. I believe there’s a longing from audiences for cinema to return to real and know that it’s real. We know in our gut when we feel the impact of a moment… We let out a sound, we jump, we wince. Humans are experts at watching other humans and although we may not be able to describe why, our bodies know the difference. When we are no longer moved by action, we have lost something invaluable in the art of filmmaking. Sometimes it’s easier, sometimes it’s cheaper, but it’s pointless if it doesn’t make you feel something. We are also in a time when trusting what we’re witnessing to be real is harder than ever. We are suspicious, sceptical, and slow to believe, which affects our ability to relax and go for the ride. In the future, I believe the most visceral action will be reserved for the producers and directors who see its value and fight for it to remain an integral part of the storytelling process.

My take on this may be unpopular among some of my peers but I’ve always liked that stunt people flew under the radar. Let me make this clear: there is no doubt stunt people deserve to be recognised and if we’re giving away awards for different facets of the industry, stunts should absolutely be represented. That being said, most stunt people I know didn’t get into it for the recognition, they get plenty on set after a big stunt goes well. If I wanted to be famous, I would’ve been an actor.

I started riding motorcycles when I was six and competing in trials when I was nine. My dad taught me how to ride. I was riding professionally for the Yamaha Factory when I saw a TV show that featured a girl riding a motorcycle and it was obviously a stuntman on the bike. That’s when I got the idea to do stunts. I checked around, but didn’t know anyone who could get me into the business. Then out of the blue Gene Hartline called me to work on Deathsport in 1977. I worked three months with some of the best in the business. It was a great training ground. Then they gave me a sword and said they needed me to run around and fight and fall down. I thought, “You’re going to pay me to play? Great!”

I was used to being in a man’s world. It was a challenge to me when guys looked at me as if I was a dumb girl. I loved to prove them wrong. I came in at a time when affirmative action was coming to light. I was one of the first women that coordinators put into situations where they’d normally put a man. Word got around that, along with doing the big thumpers, I was capable of driving, doing turnovers, and handling any motorcycle. Being a woman, I thought I always had to prove myself. If I made a mistake it was a big deal. Whereas, if a guy made a mistake it wasn’t so bad. I’m finally at the point that if I make a mistake I don’t beat myself up so badly.

When I started, women usually didn’t get the opportunity to do the big gigs. It’s now commonplace for women to do bigger stunts. It’s great to see girls coming in now who are qualified and talented, instead of just being somebody’s girlfriend. Most spots are male dominated. Many times it’s coordinators hiring coordinators and, since a lot of women don’t coordinate, we’re left out of the loop. It’s harder for women to coordinate in general because men don’t trust them to know what they’re doing. I’ve done some, but it takes so much of your time. As a mom with three kids, I want to be there for them. When they’re grown, maybe I’ll consider coordinating. Also, it’s seldom necessary for men to double a woman any more. We have plenty of qualified stuntwomen who can do the work. The way we look and move is more believable and there’s rarely an ability factor.

I was hired to do a pipe ramp on What Dreams May Come (1998). I was in a Porsche 911 and had to come into a tunnel and do a head-on miss on my way to the ramp. There were gobs of rain coming down, I could barely see. Charlie Croughwell told me, “It’d be nice if you could hit the top of the tunnel off the ramp.” Russell Solberg and I figured out what I needed to do. I hit the top of the tunnel and went 94 feet before I hit the ground and then another 90 feet sliding on my top. I have the 911 keys and part of the light framed in our house. It’s an awesome shot.

Originally written by Carl Ciarfalio.
Originally in Woman in Stunts.