The Stunt Man (1980)

Cult classic time! I had never heard of director Richard Rush (appropriate surname on an action flick) or any of his other works. Nor had I heard of star Steve Railsback (incredible surname). Some of his other roles are as real-life serial killers, so it figures he'd be cast as a fugitive, albeit not as bad as the police make him out to be.

The fugitive, Cameron, accidentally runs onto a movie set, has a misunderstanding with a stunt man, and evidently sends him to his death in self-defense. The intrigued director, Eli Cross (a middle-aged Peter O'Toole), decides to shoo off the police by claiming that Cameron is that same stunt man and treating him as such, more or less, thereafter. Just about everyone on the set knows he's a fugitive, but none of them squeal or even give him much grief for it. He merely comes to understand how precarious his situation is, which doesn't stop him from getting a little unruly. Or developing a relationship with main actress Nina (Barbara Hershey).

From the plot description, I expected an outright comedy. IMDb does list comedy among the genres, but it's rarely clear when we're "supposed" to laugh. After all, a guy dies early on, and we get the sense that Cameron's still in danger, if only from stunts thought up by an eccentric auteur who didn't care much about the first stunt man and might well expend Cameron on purpose. I was never sure what would happen next.

Furthermore, Cameron is a shell-shocked Vietnam veteran on the set of a WWI film. He never goes Rambo, but it can't be easy for him. The genre gives Cross his own problems to contend with, butting heads with local authorities and his own writer. Part of it has to do with the timing: In the wake of the latest American war, there isn't much demand for another antiwar message, so what exactly would he explore, and in what new way?

Late in the movie, Cameron tells Nina the details of why the police want him. After her initial shock at his vehement delivery, she guffaws at several points. He insists it's not funny, but he has to stifle his own laughter. That scene, to me, pretty well encapsulates the whole movie, possibly by design.

As you can imagine, O'Toole is the best individual feature. Whatever you make of his character's attitude, he's a treat to watch. Keep your ears open for many interesting lines, with or without swearing. (There's a definite R rating.)

You could say that such a film fits in well with the tail end of the dark artistry of the '70s, but honestly, I can think of no other like it. While I'm still sorting out what to make of TSM, its singularity alone makes me glad to have checked it out.