Stunt-people are the folks movie stars would love to be. It’s probably for that reason that Hollywood would prefer that we, the common people, didn’t realize they exist. Unfortunately, since that cat was let out of the bag decades ago, stars and directors would have us believe that stunt workers are unnecessary, a superfluous staff member only there to appease studio insurance agents. This is probably a big reason why names like Yakima Canutt, Gene LeBell, Kitty O’Neil, Debbie Evans, Bob Minor, Tony Brubaker, etc. aren’t well-known in every household, even though we’ve seen them all in too many movies to count.
Occasionally, though, a stunt-person will break out of obscurity and shed some light on their field. Zoe Bell is probably the most famous example in modern-day Hollywood, but her most popular forebear was probably Hal Needham.
Needham arrived in Hollywood in the 1950s and got his first job doing the stunt work for actor Richard Boone in Boone’s western TV series Have Gun-Will Travel. After this, he hired onto the crew of stuntman Chuck Roberson (best known for being John Wayne’s stunt double), and from there, he swiftly gained a reputation as one of the finest stunt doubles and stunt coordinators in Hollywood. During the ’60s, he became a regular double for actors like Clint Walker and Burt Reynolds. It was this latter relationship that would define the rest of Needham’s career-and the rest of Reynolds’s career, for that matter.
After gaining a recurring role on TV’s Gunsmoke, Reynolds’s face became popular in a huge number of homes, making Reynolds a popular actor. After leaving the TV show, Reynolds was able to parlay that TV work into a successful career, with his biggest hit in the early ’70s being Deliverance (1972). Suddenly having the power to do any film he wanted, Reynolds decided to use that power to help a friend along. When the script for Smokey And The Bandit landed on Reynolds’s table, the star knew that the stunt-heavy story needed a steady, experienced hand on the helm. He approached his friend Hal Needham and asked him to direct.
Despite being released the same summer as Star Wars, Smokey And The Bandit was a gigantic box-office hit. In fact, it was the second highest-grossing movie of 1977. (You probably don’t need me to tell you what took the #1 spot.) With this financial powerhouse behind them, the team had the clout to do whatever film they wanted.
This time around, they wanted to pay tribute to the real-life action heroes of the movie business: stunt-people. Thus, Hooper was born!
Sonny Hooper (Burt Reynolds) is well-respected in the stunt industry: in fact, in the eyes of his fellow stunt-people, he’s “the greatest stuntman alive.” Life’s pretty good for Hooper: he’s doubling for an action star (Adam West as himself) in the upcoming Warner Bros. release The Spy Who Laughed At Danger; he lives on a beautiful ranch with his equally beautiful girlfriend (Sally Field); and, after he finishes his day’s work, he’s free to spend his evenings drinking and brawling with SWAT teams (literally) at the Palomino Club with his fellow stunt doubles, including his girlfriend’s father Jocko (Brian Keith), the prior “greatest stuntman alive.” However, issues are starting to encroach on Hooper’s charmed life, like an overbearing director (Robert Klein) who insists on making the stunts bigger and bigger; a pain in his back that’s growing more and more insistent, and, most of all, the threat of obsolescence when a young rival (Jan-Michael Vincent) arrives on the scene. As the film unfolds, we see Hooper deal with each of these complications.
At this point, you may be thinking, “A young rival? Oh, this is one of those one-upmanship stories!” Let me stop you right there, because you’d be wrong. See, this movie is less about an A-to-Z story than it is a celebration of stunt-people and the lifestyle that surrounds them. It explores the camaraderie that exists in the stunt community, the dangers-obvious and overlooked-that exist in this particular line of work, and what it’s like to do a blue-collar job in a seemingly glamorous industry, and it does all this with a warm sense of humor.
From the outside, it may seem like a thriller-in this case one about a rivalry-would be perfect for a film set in a dangerous line of work. (In fact, other filmmakers have had similar ideas, leading to movies like 1977’s Stunts and 1980’s The Stunt Man.) However, Hal Needham is less interested in spinning a yarn than he is in showing us what it’s like inside the stunt world, and a rivalry would be out of place in such a film, and perhaps even out of touch with his perception of the business. Therefore, the rivalry is done away with partway through the film, and a friendship grows between Reynolds and Vincent. This trope (rivals becoming friends) is one of my favorite to see unfold, and Needham lets it happen in a natural, relaxed way.
Speaking of insight into stunt working, Hooper feels more like a workplace comedy than any other movie about filmmaking I’ve seen. In most movies about Hollywood, filmmaking is depicted as a glamorous occupation, filled with beautiful people and cushy comfort. However, in Hooper, filmmaking is depicted more like I imagine it really is: an everyday job where you joke around with your co-workers, complain about your overbearing boss, deal with surprise inspections (like the Humane Society making sure your stunt is safe for animal actors), and clock out as early as possible so you can go hang out with your buddies. In this film, actors and directors are supervisors and co-workers, not the larger-than-life gods that publicity departments make them out to be. In fact, the only difference between your profession and a stunt-person’s job is that they risk their necks every day.
That leads me to another reason I love Hooper, and it’s the chance to see the finest stunt-people of the ’70s plying their trade, and doing so magnificently well. Of course, this is most obvious in the scenes that are directly about filmmaking and stunt work, but it also extends to scenes outside the backlot, like the barroom brawl with the SWAT team and two beautiful car-stunt moments. It’s obvious that Needham intended this film to be a showcase for his fellow stunt-people, so he peppered the film with classic examples of all the classic stunts: car crashes, trick driving, fire scenes, high falls, horse tricks, plane jumps, and the aforementioned barroom brawl. Each of these stunts (or gags, as they’re called among stunt-people) are executed beautifully, so much so that each scene drives home the theme of the film: that stunt-people deserve more respect than they get.
All of this is done with the warm-hug sense of humor that marks all of Hal Needham’s films. It’s obvious that Needham has had all sorts of ups and downs in the film industry, and that he’s drawn on many of them to construct Hooper. However, through his films (and his memoir Stuntman!), it’s obvious that the trials didn’t dampen Needham’s sense of humor nor his enthusiasm for making movies. That sense of fun and excitement shines through every frame of Hooper, and it gives the film an extra sense of energy.
Hooper is a fun, relaxed valentine to the world of stunt work and filmmaking in general. It gives us a fresh, more relatable perspective on the world of moviemaking, and it does so with plenty of laughs and action, as we’ve come to expect from Burt Reynolds and Hal Needham. I’m glad I finally got to see this film. If you’re interested in any aspect of filmmaking or stunt work, or even if you just want to have a good time, I’d say this one is right up your alley, as well. 🙂
The Vintage Vestibule 