Skip to main content

Stunt Rock (1978)

 


“Cousin. Stuntman. Horrible actor, but hell of a nice guy”. This apt description of Grant Page, fifteen minutes into Stunt Rock (1978), nicely encapsulates the actor-stuntman’s screen persona. Page was a novel celebrity of sorts in the budding Australian film industry at the time, having served as stuntman or stunt coordinator on films like Sunday Too Far Away, Mad Dog Morgan, The Mango Tree, The Picture Show Man, Eliza Frazer, The Man from Hong Kong, and Deathcheaters. Page featured prominently in the latter two films, both directed by Brian Trenchard-Smith. He also headlined the series Dangerfreaks, about his exploits, and appeared on The Don Lane Show. Trenchard-Smith knew what he had in Page and built Stunt Rock around his star. Unfortunately, he also built it around a band called Sorcery.

There must have been something in the air in 1978: also released that year was Hal Needham’s Hooper, featuring Burt Reynolds as a Needham-esque stuntman to Adam West’s Reynolds-esque star. Page plays himself in Stunt Rock, which depicts his entreaties into Hollywood, where he works on a Charlie’s Angels-esque action series headlined by Dutch actress Monique Van de Ven (the star of Verhoeven’s Turkish Delight and Katie Tippel, playing herself and gamely performing her own base-jumping stunts) and romances a journalist (Margaret Gerard, who also co-starred in Deathcheaters). The stunt work on display—including jumps and falls from great heights, vehicle and fire stunts, and especially crawling along a tightrope between two apartment buildings—is impressive and cleanly photographed by DPs Helmen Ilmer and Robert Prime’s (under pseudonym Bob Carras). This work is complemented by clips from other Page films and of other Australian stuntmen at work, as well as silent film era stunts and scenes from newer titles like Gone in 60 Seconds (OG).   

Stunt Rock is similar in aesthetic and premise not to Hooper but to Trenchard-Smith’s own The Man from Hong Kong and Deathcheaters. Like Hong Kong, the film sees a resourceful renegade transplanted to a foreign location, where he romances women and gets involved in hijinks, and like Deathcheaters, Page plays a broadly-drawn version of himself and the film is structured around his stunt set pieces. Of course, those films were propelled by thriller plots tying together said set pieces, featured engaging supporting performancesfrom George Lazenby, Hugh Keays-Byrne, and Roger Ward in Hong Kong and John Hargreaves in Deathcheaters—propping up their likeable but leaden lead, and unfolded in attractive Sydney locations. Stunt Rock is shaggier in plotting, shot in drabber LA locations (like another Australian production/mockumentary, Fantasm, two years earlier), and punctuated with musical performances by a rock group comprised of theatre kids, who Trenchard-Smith only saw perform on videotape prior to filming their numbers. At the risk of sounding like Rex Reed, I forwarded through a good portion of the pyrotechnic-laden songs (in my defence, I’d seen the film before).

While ostensibly a monument to its star’s talents, Page is sufficiently self-effacing and ropey as an actor that it never becomes an ego trip. For contrast, see Top Gun: Maverick, in which Tom Cruise’s Maverick gets in trouble for doing something amazing, is sent to flight school to teach other pilots to be as amazing as he is, repeatedly demonstrates that he’s more amazing than they are, and successfully leads them to complete an impossible aerial mission, with the actor-producer doing all his own amazing aerial stunts.

Ben

  

[1] Later films Page served on include the Mad Max films, Patrick, RoadgamesThe Odd Angry ShotThe Pirate Movie, The Lighthorsemen, Jackie Chan vehicle Mr Nice Guy, and The Tracker, in which he delivers a nicely tuned supporting performance. Other titles Page worked on that have been covered on Down Under Flix include Resistance, 33 Postcards, and Liquid Bridge.


Popular posts from this blog

Beyond Innocence (1989)

Published 2017 on Down Under Flix Director:  Scott Murray Stars:  Katia Caballero, Keith Smith Scott Murray is one of the premier commentators on Australian cinema. He’s best known as editor and contributor to  Cinema Papers  and  Senses of Cinema , as well as for editing, authoring, and contributing to various volumes on Australian film, including one particularly indispensable resource for my work on Down Under Flix,  Australian Film 1978–1994 . In the 1980s, Murray directed the film  Beyond Innocence , also known as  Devil in the Flesh . It was both his theatrical feature debut and swansong, though he’d later helm a music documentary,  Massenet: His Life and Music . 

Six pack: Furiosa (2024), Force of Nature (2024), No Escape (1994), The New Boy (2023), Mary and Max (2009), and Sweet As (2022)

  There used to be a nerdy adage—at least until contrary instalments countered the point—that even-numbered Star Trek films were better than their odd-numbered counterparts. I wouldn’t be surprised if a similar adage emerges about the Mad Max films: while the obviously odd-numbered original was a trailblazer, it’s The Road Warrior and Fury Road that have commanded universal acclaim, while Beyond Thunderdome and Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024) have proven divisive. There are striking moments—as expected in both a George Miller film and a Mad Max film—in Furiosa , and Miller remains the most idiosyncratic generator of sequels: Furiosa (technically a prequel) is his sixth, after a Babe sequel, a Happy Feet sequel, and three other Mad Max sequels, with none of these offshoots feeling the same. However, if you’d told me Furiosa was based on a five-part prequel comic book series, I’d believe you, based on its chapter structure and the narrative dead end it arrives at. As it stand...

Malcolm (1986)

  When penning my review of Black and White , starring Robert Carlyle, I was reminded of my two theatrical viewings of The Full Monty : one in a packed theatre with patrons lapping up the film, the other a few weeks later in a large theatre with less than a dozen, far more polite punters. As a dumb teen, I took away the wrong lesson: that the film didn’t work/wasn’t successful outside a packed auditorium. As an adult, I have a more rounded appreciation of the film and its grace notes that aren't dependent on an enthused opening weekend crowd — the thoughtful, non-condescending working-class milieu it sketches (much more effective and less caricatured than the likes of Billy Elliot ), the lovely work from Lesley Sharp, and so on—but the two distinct viewings remain an instructive lesson in the role of an audience in galvanizing each other and collectively elevating a film experience [1]. Malcolm (1986) is a film I’ve also watched twice—albeit at home and with a much longer interva...