Confessions of a Stunt Man

THE PHYSICAL COMEDY OF DIDO'S YOUTH clearly pointed toward a career making people gasp. But … how, exactly?

“My path to stunts was not a straight line, but looking back, I can trace it clearly,” Dido says. “It’s got as much to do with the friendships I made as who I am and what I’ve done.”

He attended Georgia State on the “seven-year plan,” he says, leaving classwork behind several times for odd jobs and joyriding to California. When he heard director Peter Jackson would soon be shooting “Lord of the Rings” in New Zealand, Dido bought a plane ticket. He stood outside the movie’s production facility with a hand-lettered sign: “WILL WORK FOR LORD OF THE RINGS FOR FOOD.”

He got neither work nor food. Back in Atlanta, he earned pizza money working in a computer lab at the College of Education and Human Development, a gig that indirectly led to the world of stunts.

A friend in the computer lab took a video production job at Georgia Tech. After graduation, Dido followed. “It was my first real job,” Dido says. “I hope I never have one of those again.”

On the new job, he made a new friend, a student of martial arts. They bonded. Dido had taken Tang Soo Do in high school (“about six months until my instructor murdered his father”); Wing Chun Kung Fu (“about three months until I wrecked my motorcycle and didn’t have transportation”); and Aikido, Tai Chi and Jiu-Jitsu at Georgia State (“an incredible deal, so cheap, and all great instructors”). Dido knew his way around a dojo, and his friend wanted his opinion about a certain martial arts school.

“I got a good feeling [about the place] right away,” Dido says. “Soon I trained there seven days a week, and I earned a black belt.”

The door to the stunt world opened when the school’s head instructor, an ex-performer with film experience, created a stunt team. Dido auditioned, got on, and worked a few independent films and shorts.

“It was fun, occasionally brutal, and it paid very little to nothing at all,” Dido says. “But it eventually brought me into contact with folks working professionally.”

The film industry in Georgia had not yet exploded, and no one knew if it would. Still, Dido began to consider stunt work as a career.

“I was finally exposed to the professional Screen Actors Guild side of things,” he says. “The stunt team kind of fizzled out, but a handful of us adapted to the professional film world. Eventually, we built up career momentum.”

Today, Dido makes more than $900 a day for stunt work, and he can pull down extra bucks for certain stunts. Getting hit by a car, for example, can ring up $1,000 bucks … per take. Even so, stunt work isn’t for the financially faint of heart. Assignments come and go, the hours are long, and the work physically demanding and risky.

Every stunt man knows one wrong move can end a career. Or worse. In 2002 on Halloween Day, a stunt man was killed in a skydiving scene for a Bruce Willis film, “Tears of the Sun.” Stunt men have died falling off horses, wrecking cars, crashing planes, plunging from buildings, drowning in lakes, running motorcycles off cliffs and in even more unfortunate ways.

“As performers,” Dido says, “we need to be on top of our game. If things go wrong, we must have the ability to make rapid decisions with life-or-death consequences — for ourselves and others.

“There are processes in place to keep everyone safe,” Dido adds. “It is always better to have clear communication, a plan and level-headed, skilled people to execute it.

“The stunt people I admire aren’t daredevils. They are skilled professionals. The job is a lot of fun, but it’s no joke.”

THE PHYSICAL COMEDY OF DIDO'S YOUTH clearly pointed toward a career making people gasp. But … how, exactly?

“My path to stunts was not a straight line, but looking back, I can trace it clearly,” Dido says. “It’s got as much to do with the friendships I made as who I am and what I’ve done.”

He attended Georgia State on the “seven-year plan,” he says, leaving classwork behind several times for odd jobs and joyriding to California. When he heard director Peter Jackson would soon be shooting “Lord of the Rings” in New Zealand, Dido bought a plane ticket. He stood outside the movie’s production facility with a hand-lettered sign: “WILL WORK FOR LORD OF THE RINGS FOR FOOD.”

He got neither work nor food. Back in Atlanta, he earned pizza money working in a computer lab at the College of Education and Human Development, a gig that indirectly led to the world of stunts.

A friend in the computer lab took a video production job at Georgia Tech. After graduation, Dido followed. “It was my first real job,” Dido says. “I hope I never have one of those again.”

On the new job, he made a new friend, a student of martial arts. They bonded. Dido had taken Tang Soo Do in high school (“about six months until my instructor murdered his father”); Wing Chun Kung Fu (“about three months until I wrecked my motorcycle and didn’t have transportation”); and Aikido, Tai Chi and Jiu-Jitsu at Georgia State (“an incredible deal, so cheap, and all great instructors”). Dido knew his way around a dojo, and his friend wanted his opinion about a certain martial arts school.

“I got a good feeling [about the place] right away,” Dido says. “Soon I trained there seven days a week, and I earned a black belt.”

The door to the stunt world opened when the school’s head instructor, an ex-performer with film experience, created a stunt team. Dido auditioned, got on, and worked a few independent films and shorts.

“It was fun, occasionally brutal, and it paid very little to nothing at all,” Dido says. “But it eventually brought me into contact with folks working professionally.”

The film industry in Georgia had not yet exploded, and no one knew if it would. Still, Dido began to consider stunt work as a career.

“I was finally exposed to the professional Screen Actors Guild side of things,” he says. “The stunt team kind of fizzled out, but a handful of us adapted to the professional film world. Eventually, we built up career momentum.”

Today, Dido makes more than $900 a day for stunt work, and he can pull down extra bucks for certain stunts. Getting hit by a car, for example, can ring up $1,000 bucks … per take. Even so, stunt work isn’t for the financially faint of heart. Assignments come and go, the hours are long, and the work physically demanding and risky.

Every stunt man knows one wrong move can end a career. Or worse. In 2002 on Halloween Day, a stunt man was killed in a skydiving scene for a Bruce Willis film, “Tears of the Sun.” Stunt men have died falling off horses, wrecking cars, crashing planes, plunging from buildings, drowning in lakes, running motorcycles off cliffs and in even more unfortunate ways.

“As performers,” Dido says, “we need to be on top of our game. If things go wrong, we must have the ability to make rapid decisions with life-or-death consequences — for ourselves and others.

“There are processes in place to keep everyone safe,” Dido adds. “It is always better to have clear communication, a plan and level-headed, skilled people to execute it.

“The stunt people I admire aren’t daredevils. They are skilled professionals. The job is a lot of fun, but it’s no joke.”

GYMNASTS AND ACROBATS have entertained audiences for centuries, from royal courts to circus crowds. Buffalo Bill’s “Wild West” shows popularized stunt riders in the 19th century, and Vaudeville employed colorful stunt talents, including Harry Houdini.

In early Hollywood, actors like Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton performed their own stunts. (“Keaton is incredible,” Dido says. “He did stuff that most folks wouldn’t dare to try these days, and he did many of his gags in one long take.”)

Eventually, though, sophistication in movie-making — and the rising box-office value of stars — created roles for stand-ins and stunt men. John Wayne could certainly ride a horse. It was another thing entirely for him to leap from a balcony into a waiting saddle and gallop into the sunset.

Now with 12 years in the craft, Dido has a solid resume. He’s a dependable pro on set.

This is how his job works.

The cellphone rings, and a stunt coordinator calls him to a shoot. (Many shows have this professional on crew making sure stunts happen safely and cost-effectively.)

Dido always shows up an hour early with his gear — an assortment of protective pads to wear under costumes. He goes to wardrobe. He goes to makeup. (Becoming a zombie for “The Walking Dead,” Dido says, takes an hour of latex and fake blood application.)

“It’s weird when you go to lunch, and you have this grotesque zombie makeup and blood all over you,” Dido says. “You’re eating sandwiches with half your face falling off. You can spot people who haven’t been on the set very long. They look at you funny.”

After makeup, Dido patiently waits his call. He meets a director or coordinator, who explains the scene, and the cast and stunt team walk through the action. They have a safety meeting with the department heads, cast and crew to review standard safety protocol. Sometimes, a stunt is rehearsed. If not, the action gets tweaked, take by take. Much of a scene’s vitality — and believability — depends on the professionalism and invention of the actors.

Consider Dido’s battle with the inflatable air man in “Brockmire.” The actor Azaria took a first swing. The director yelled “Cut!” And in stepped Dido.

“They gave Philip no direction or blocking whatsoever, just ‘fight that thing and make it funny’ or something like that,” says fellow stunt man Andy Rusk. “Most stunt men would’ve been more scared by that than a high fall — an unrehearsed comedy bit by yourself in front of the crew.

“But Philip crushed it,” says Rusk. “He got it in one take. I believe he just went out and fought the thing until he could hear the crew laughing, and then he fought it some more. And he lost the fight, which was a bold choice. Many image-conscious stuntmen might not choose to lose a fight with an inanimate object. But it became one of the best, funniest scenes in the whole series.

“It takes real guts to be silly.”

SOMETIMES, THINGS GET HOT.

For a fire scene in “The Walking Dead,” Dido, Rusk and another actor — all made up as zombies — waited inside a steel dumpster. The stunt men had soaked their Nomex underwear in fire retardant gel and ice for six hours. That night, the weather was so cold that the underwear felt warm when they put it on.

“About four minutes later,” Rusk says, “in that steel dumpster full of propane flame bars, kerosene dripping down our backs, we were hotter than we’d ever been in our lives. I mean, we were hot before we even got lit up. The special effects guys had those propane fires roaring in there, and the steel dumpster held all that heat and reflected it.

“Cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. Never once did Philip utter a discouraging word,” Rusk says. “He just took it, part of the deal. In fact, he joked all night.”

In the scene, Dido catches fire first. He stumbles into zombie two, lighting him, and that zombie bumps and ignites Rusk, the third.

“We had extinguishers outside,” Dido says. “If one of us got into trouble, that person would exit to a predetermined spot to be put out. The remaining performers worked in the shot until they got too hot or cut was called.”

Take one, the second zombie failed to ignite. His wardrobe was wet.

Take two (with more accelerant added to the clothing), everyone ignited. Dido, in zombie character and fully ablaze, staggered from the dumpster. The second gentleman?

“He bailed out on the take,” Dido says. “He got too hot.”

Decision time.

“I remember watching the second gentleman leave and pausing a second to assess whether I could continue the shot,” Dido says. (Remember, he’s a walking zombie bonfire at this point.)

“I decided that I was warm but could keep going, so I remained in the shot. We were all juggling quite a bit of stuff — monitoring our own heat level and safety, timing things to bump into the next guy long enough to ignite him while not flashing him in the face with fire, backing off to give each other space, making sure we were spread out to fill the frame, listening to instructions from the stunt coordinator and performing.”

Performing … as burning zombies.

“The unusual added thing,” Dido says, “is that the director requested we not react much to being on fire. That’s tough.”

Tough. That’s Dido’s calling card.

“In a business where tough dudes are everywhere, Philip is one of the toughest dudes I know,” Rusk says. “And he’s tough because he can not only absorb punishment but laugh through it, too.
“I once saw an actor kick him in the ribs, over and over, maybe 40 times in a single take because the director changed the shot without telling anybody and wouldn’t call cut. When he finally did, all we could do was laugh. We laughed about that for days.”

Dido sets a high standard for dedication — and durability.

“With Phil’s stunt work,” says Shapiro, “I think he lives at the studio, literally. I think he eats, drinks and breathes stunts ... and then occasionally pees blood.”

Stoicism is second nature to the specialty actors who make stunts such an exciting part of film and television. For all his inner ham, Dido says, the standard stunt man approaches work understanding that anonymity is part of the profession. Stunt men are born to make those around them look good. Sometimes, they even make them look like superheroes.

“That’s the core of the job,” Dido confirms. “It’s not splashy or anything. We all want to do good performances and good stunts. And we want everybody to go home with all their limbs and eyes and toes intact.”

Even the zombies.

SOMETIMES, THINGS GET HOT.

For a fire scene in “The Walking Dead,” Dido, Rusk and another actor — all made up as zombies — waited inside a steel dumpster. The stunt men had soaked their Nomex underwear in fire retardant gel and ice for six hours. That night, the weather was so cold that the underwear felt warm when they put it on.

“About four minutes later,” Rusk says, “in that steel dumpster full of propane flame bars, kerosene dripping down our backs, we were hotter than we’d ever been in our lives. I mean, we were hot before we even got lit up. The special effects guys had those propane fires roaring in there, and the steel dumpster held all that heat and reflected it.

“Cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. Never once did Philip utter a discouraging word,” Rusk says. “He just took it, part of the deal. In fact, he joked all night.”

In the scene, Dido catches fire first. He stumbles into zombie two, lighting him, and that zombie bumps and ignites Rusk, the third.

“We had extinguishers outside,” Dido says. “If one of us got into trouble, that person would exit to a predetermined spot to be put out. The remaining performers worked in the shot until they got too hot or cut was called.”

Take one, the second zombie failed to ignite. His wardrobe was wet.

Take two (with more accelerant added to the clothing), everyone ignited. Dido, in zombie character and fully ablaze, staggered from the dumpster. The second gentleman?

“He bailed out on the take,” Dido says. “He got too hot.”

Decision time.

“I remember watching the second gentleman leave and pausing a second to assess whether I could continue the shot,” Dido says. (Remember, he’s a walking zombie bonfire at this point.)

“I decided that I was warm but could keep going, so I remained in the shot. We were all juggling quite a bit of stuff — monitoring our own heat level and safety, timing things to bump into the next guy long enough to ignite him while not flashing him in the face with fire, backing off to give each other space, making sure we were spread out to fill the frame, listening to instructions from the stunt coordinator and performing.”

Performing … as burning zombies.

“The unusual added thing,” Dido says, “is that the director requested we not react much to being on fire. That’s tough.”

Tough. That’s Dido’s calling card.

“In a business where tough dudes are everywhere, Philip is one of the toughest dudes I know,” Rusk says. “And he’s tough because he can not only absorb punishment but laugh through it, too.
“I once saw an actor kick him in the ribs, over and over, maybe 40 times in a single take because the director changed the shot without telling anybody and wouldn’t call cut. When he finally did, all we could do was laugh. We laughed about that for days.”

Dido sets a high standard for dedication — and durability.

“With Phil’s stunt work,” says Shapiro, “I think he lives at the studio, literally. I think he eats, drinks and breathes stunts ... and then occasionally pees blood.”

Stoicism is second nature to the specialty actors who make stunts such an exciting part of film and television. For all his inner ham, Dido says, the standard stunt man approaches work understanding that anonymity is part of the profession. Stunt men are born to make those around them look good. Sometimes, they even make them look like superheroes.

“That’s the core of the job,” Dido confirms. “It’s not splashy or anything. We all want to do good performances and good stunts. And we want everybody to go home with all their limbs and eyes and toes intact.”

Even the zombies.