We interrupt the 31 days of halloween for a temporary respite into non-spooky, non-scary territory.
KWIF=Kent's Week(ish) in Film. I tend to write these things on weekends, but I also watch most films on weekends and sometimes time doesn't allow for both. There was appointment viewings in theatres this past week, movies that I suspect would come and go rather briskly that I really wanted to see, so I made a point of getting to them before some of the bigger films of the fall (eg. Primetime, Digger), and also getting Lady Kent out to them as well (a rare but enjoyable treat). And then I did a bit of companion watching.
This Week:
The History of Concrete (2026, d. John Wilson - in theatres)
The Stunt Driver (2026, d. Michael Dowse - in theatres)
The Stunt Man (1980, d. Richard Rush - tubi)
Stunt Rock (1978, d. Brian Trenchard-Smith - tubi)
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If you didn't watch the show, well... how to describe? Wilson is an avid videographer, travelling with his camera running capturing unique details and keeping meticulous notes on what he's captured. In How To... Wilson would explore (sort of) a "how to" topic (kind of) through an array of edited-together images from his vast library of footage, to punctuate (or counter-punch) a point, while pontificating on the topic at hand in voice-over in his uniquely dry, humorous, stammering fashion (his episode on scaffolding has resulted in Mayor Mamdani taking action). He would also have interviews set-up to discuss the subject matter at hand, but would also talk to strangers he encountered on the streets and wind up deviating from the topic at hand into these curious and unique tangents, which he would then attempt to bring back around to the topic at hand. How To... was a wholly unique and neurodivergent lens (I'm not even certain Wilson is neurodivergent, but his storytelling style very much is) with which to view our world.
With only a few Wealthsimple ads to tide us over in the years since, Wilson finally returns with a full length feature (101 minutes) that isn't a How To... movie but, you know, basically is.
The History of Concrete, technically, is a documentary, but what it's documenting isn't really what it says on the label, and how it's documenting it is pretty singular (unless taken in the context of Wilson's prior work, at which point, it's more of the same...and that's not a negative, far from it).
Every episode of How To... would open with Wilson's voice over welcoming us by way of images of the city he loves: "Hey New York" is bascially Wilson's catch phrase at this point. This film opens with Wilson delightfully playing with such. For the familiar and the fans, it's like a door being opened and welcomed into a friend's house. They may have redecorated and moved things around, added an extension on back and slapped on a coat of paint, but it's still familiar, and inviting.
Wilson's entry point into thinking about and exploring concrete comes from his pitiful attempt to self-patch some concrete outside his house in hopes of preventing so much basement flooding during heavy rains. His poor patch job, critiqued harshly by a neighbour, sparks the idea for a film project...and then he has to pitch to get funding. There's no tension here...it's clear that we're watching a film that's been made, but it does start the narrative that even Wilson's ambling camera is still answerable to someone.
Exploring the cement thread, both its strength and frailty, takes Wilson to Rome to look at ancient concrete structures and ask strangers who don't speak English as to the secret of how the structures have lasted so long to futile effect. Returning home, he encounters in Queens a "spiritual" 52-day, 3100 mile marathon run on the cement sidewalk around a high school and returns throughout the film to check in on its progress. He visits a concrete convention in Vegas, and ponders New York concrete structures that are coming apart.
Wilson's approach to the topic is both humorous and informative, but also hardly being hard-hitting investigative journalism. His interest takes him deep into industry as well as onto the surface, including the only sidewalk-gum-removal business in the city, and then tangentially, like into tattoo preservation (unless you're already familiar with this practice, you're not ready for it when you see it).
The History of Concrete returns Wilson to the more personal nature of How To...'s first season. Wilson's gateway into the world of concrete, but he's also documenting his career successes and failures, like being at a celebrity dinner hosted by GQ as one of their "Men of the year" and also losing a Depends advertisement gig. The decision to make a documentary feature, in the current environment, finds purse strings clutched tight unless it's about murder or a musician... and so Wilson goes out in search of a musician to document, a tangent that gets simultaneously dark and hopeful, presented with both humour and empathy.
It doesn't matter if you've seen How To... to enjoy The History of Concrete. Sure there are a few nods in the early minutes to, well, Wilson's life as presented previously in How To... that will get knowing "ahhhhs" out of fans but really, just like any episode of How To... it stands as a singular document that works just fine on its own, but also better as part of the whole.
Does The History of Concrete truly elevate itself to "cinematic" status, does it truly differentiate itself from from what we've seen on HBO or Vimeo? No, not in any major way, but that's the sign of Wilson making his art authentically. While some AI may have stolen his voice, I don't think there's any way to truly emulate Wilson's collages, or his ability to connect (or disconnect) with people, and to go where the vibes take him and his camera. There will no doubt be emulators, weirdo kids who grew up on Wilson's style and try to replicate that, but I don't know if Wilson's work will ever not feel unique.
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"Heritage Minutes" have never really gone away, but they hit sporadically, and they've been cropping up in theatres lately, both classics and newer ones. There were little tip-offs in The Stunt Driver trailer that this wasn't legit...mainly because there was so many scenes edited together.
I thought The Stunt Driver, based on the trailer, would be a retro-styled mockumentary, following a very hoser-accented Canadian in the late-1970s as he dares to be daring, and aspires for a big jump over the St. Lawrence River. It seemed so heightened and silly and embracing the era with all the hair and polyester and wood panelling and stubby beer bottles... and, Jay Baruchel in the lead... like, this had to be a comedy right?
But it turns out The Stunt Driver is based on a very real person, stunt driver Ken Carter (Kenneth Gordon Poleschuk), and his big idea to jump the St. Lawrence was very, very real.
It also turns out I had some memory of Ken Carter sitting deep in the recesses of my brain. I don't remember much, but little pieces of trivia were sitting there that kept smacking me upside the head as I watched this dramatic-but-with-a-light-touch film about this specific period of time in his life.
Carter (Jay Baruchel), "The Mad Canadian", performed his stunts around the world, and like pro-wrestlers and football players, put his body and his life on the line for entertainment. In his late 30's, hobbled by injuries but undeterred, he scoffed at cross-border rival Evel Knievel's attempt to "jump" the Snake River Canyon in a rocket, and was determined to have his own, more inspirational (and successful) jump.
He gets rocket car designer Dick Keller (Ed Helms) to help him on his crazy quest, and enlists sports agent Bill Wilkins (Dan Bakkedahl) to sell the TV rights to ABC's Wide World of Sports. Carter's wife, Gloria, is fully supportive, though they both dream that the success of such a stunt will be enough for a comfortable retirement.
What follows is a string of setbacks that start to sink Carter into a hole, both financially and emotionally. Time twists on and Carter can't seem to quite get off the ground. Literal years pass, but the dream never dies... that is until his first successful test of the rocket car shakes him to his core and he never quite recovers.
Presented in a 4:3 aspect ratio with, most likely digital cameras with a digital grain process added to make the film look like TV of the era (with actual footage of Carter's jumps, and crashes, judiciously cut in), the film feels incredibly Canadian, as it should. It's not a film that's mythmaking or putting an idol on a pedestal, it's a film about a very human man, and I found Carter's motivations and fears very touching.
It's also a film about failure, and about having to live with the spectre of failure, something that Carter really couldn't shake. A couple of points in the movie, Carter states that he does what he does to be remembered... but he was forgotten anyway. Director Dowse and Baruchel -in his first really transformative role- do a really great job at resurrecting his memory, but, unfortunately, there were only 7 people at my screening. Hopefully its jump to streaming gets more eyes on it.
While Evel Knievel has cemented his place in American pop-culture history, Ken Carter didn't ever reach the same place of notoriety in Canada. In some respects films like The Stunt Driver, just pure Canadiana, are essential to our entertainment ecosystem. I have yet to watch the NFB documentary The Devil At Your Heels from which much of this film was derived, but I imagine that there were more than a few elements added or excised for dramatic and comedic effect. This is a truly solid, stoic, entertaining piece of Canadian cinema that respects its subject when it could have pushed the comedy to real extremes, perhaps to bigger success, but less authenticity.
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Based on the novel of the same name by Paul Brodeur, it finds Cameron (Steve Railsback), a Vietnam veteran, on the run from the law. We don't really learn why until deep into the third act. He narrowly escapes arrest and, while running, finds himself on a bridge facing a car that's seemingly trying to run him down. He lobs a piece of scrap at the windshield and dives out of the way. The car disappears into the river below... but it's not long before people and vehicles and helicopters start appearing...Cameron's on a film set and he sort of just killed the stunt driver.
But not to worry, for auteur director Eli Cross (O'Toole), the show must go on. It cannot afford the shut-down time of a police investigation nor any other delay. The only reasonable answer is for Cameron to pose as the now deceased stunt man, with promises of excellent pay and a ticket out of country when the shoot is all said and done.
But it's hard to hide something like a car going off a bridge, and the local police are already agitated about the film shoot's disruptions to the community. For Cameron, it feels like the walls are closing in. And Cross, well, his intentions start to seem more and more suspect. He seems to be intentionally torturing Cameron, dangling hope and security in front of him. It's been so long since Cameron has had good things in his life, he doesn't know how to relax.
And then there's Nina (Barbara Hershey), the starlet of the film, who for some reason takes a liking to Cameron, despite his outbursts and wild eyes. He's a bit of a wounded puppy, and a bit of a rabid dog. He's out of his depth with her, but she doesn't mind, at least for now.
The Stunt Man is a satire about filmmaking while also offering a commentary on the mistreatment of America's soldiers during and after the war, as well as examining the effects of PTSD (though, somewhat naively). It flirts with being a drama and a comedy, and the film-within-a-film is a war film and so there are elaborate WWII sequences requiring extensive stunts that are shot both from the view of the camera within the film and our external POV. There's a bit of a mystery to Cameron's backstory, and intrigue and suspense around Cross' true intentions (is he really intent on making snuff fillms?).
The Stunt Man tries to do it all and only succeeds at some. It seems to know intimately how films are made (as an experience filmmaker like Rush should) but also shorthands some things (like shooting full action sequences in one take), deceives the audience in many ways, and sometimes portrays a reality that is so obviously false that it's hard sometimes to buy into the reality of the film.
Railsback as Cameron is an uncomfortable fit. As the film shifts -- sometimes frantically -- through its genres, Cameron is meant to as well, and I'm just not sure if it's Railsback who isn't up to the task of navigating them, or if anyone really could. Hershey, likewise, has a hard time finding consistency in this picture. She doesn't have as much heavy lifting to do as Railsback, nor does Nina face as much whiplash, but for a 1980's woman, she seems decades behind.
It's O'Toole who steals the show (but definitely not the lead). As Cross he gets to be shifty and playful and confounding and melodramatic and mysterious and dangerous, and does so with easy consistency. It's a terrific performance, in an ambitious, but messy film.
It feels like The Stunt Man could not be remade today, not without being a period piece. It seems so impossible for someone to disappear if they wanted to. But also if The Stunt Man were to be remade, it would be the rare instance where it would be better suited as a TV show than a movie. The depths of the characters could be better explored, the themes of reality versus fiction could be given greater weight, as could the exploration of trauma and even a proper reckoning with post-Vietnam America. There's also an extensive cast on the periphery here that is given so little screentime, there's room for an ensemble to develop out of this. But would I actually watch it...?
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Stunt Rock is not a documentary, nor is it a mockumentary, but somewhere in between. It's honestly not too dissimilar in tone to the prior year's Australia-set ABBA: The Movie, where it was sort of a concert film that was totally disinterested in being a concert film. Stunt Rock is disinterested in really being a stunt film, and instead wants to be a concert film, but all these stunts just keep getting in the way.
It's a truly bizarre hybrid, where Australian stunt performer Grant Page makes his way to America to perform on a totally made up TV show starring Dutch actress Monique van de Ven. When he gets Stateside, he meets up with his cousin, Curtis Hyde who performs with the band Sorcery. Sorcery's schtick is mediocre hard rock whose stage show includes Hyde and Paul Haynes performing as duelling sides of darkness and light in a display of pyrotechnics and stage magic. Honestly, it's not a bad sight, but is stage magic stunts?
The moments where we see Page stunt performing, there's some pretty big set-ups, but almost all the stunts he's performing are done so simply for the sake of being stunts. There's no narrative here, there's no plot objective, just a "can we do it?" attitude. And so, with stunts being performed with no direct intention, it's not that they're not impressive, but they're also kind of boring, and lacking theatricality. Perhaps that's why Page felt the need to cede half the movie to a rock band and a magic show... the devil-vs-wizard magic show is somehow far more enticing and entertaining.
There's no story to Stunt Rock. There's little threads about a reporter following Page and they hook up, or van de Ven nagging Page to let her do stunts, or Page trying to contribute to the Sorcery stage show... but that's not a plot, those are just events.
Stunt Rock is not unentertaining but it also feels somewhat quaint, which I hate typing because it really undermines the talent and professionalism of everyone involved. But it's not even close to the thrill of watching, say Jackie Chan outtakes, or parkour videos.
