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| 'The best way to ensure you're safe is to know the people around you,' says Sandy Gimpel, a veteran of hundreds of Hollywood
stunts. In the comedy 'Norbit' (l.), she was rigged to a cable. Courtesy of Bruce McBoom/Sandy Gimpel |
Forty years on, stuntwoman Sandy Gimpel still loves her occupational hazard
When she's not making workout videos, the Hollywood veteran gets set ablaze and falls from tall buildings.
from the November 16, 2007 edition
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"The producers had been close to hiring someone they didn't know," she says, a much younger woman who would have been reluctant to stall filming with an unfamiliar crew. "But because they knew me and trusted me, they didn't stop me from taking the time to secure a backup line," she adds.
Gimpel's legacy in the male-dominated stunt trade is that of a woman who has broken ground for all stuntwomen. During the 1970s, she had begun to work as a stunt coordinator. It's a role that can include directing second units but requires a union card from the Directors Guild of America, something no stuntwoman possessed back then. When producers tried to replace her with a DGA stunt coordinator, and asked her to train him, she walked out. Friends and colleagues prevailed upon the producers and she became the first female DGA stunt coordinator.
Today, she splits her time evenly between falling down stairs herself and directing others. "You just know with Sandy that the stunts will be properly researched and the talent will be safe," says producer Ron Smith, who has hired Gimpel on a number of films, most recently "The Invasion."
Don't try this at home (or anywhere)
The most dangerous job she's ever taken involved relatively new technology – the bungee cable. Kellogg's hired her to bungee jump from a hot air balloon – backward. Gimpel laughs as she recalls the finances of that job. Union scale for stunts starts around $700. Fees escalate depending on the risks and difficulty of a job. "I made around $15,000 for that jump," she says with a broad smile.
The industry has changed with the advent of the computer, she says. Green screens and special effects have taken jobs from stunt doubles, but technology has made her work safer. When Eddie Murphy threw her from the roof, a system of deceleration cables guided her descent.
One big leap for stuntwomen
Generations of stuntwomen regard Gimpel as a pioneer. "Sandy paved the way for many of the younger girls," says Missy Reynolds, who has run a stunt and talent agency for more than 35 years.
"You couldn't find someone to say something bad about Sandy if you searched the entire globe," says Ms. Reynolds.
"She opened a lot of doors for women who want to be coordinators," agrees stuntwoman Joni Avery. And, she adds, Gimpel's longevity "is a testimony about how good a stuntwoman she is. Most women burn out after 10 or 15 years, either through injury or burned bridges."
Some changes have seriously cut into work opportunities, says Gimpel. The proliferation of behind-the-scenes information about today's movies has impelled more stars to do their own stunts. That's understandable, she says, because it deepens their characters' credibility. Nonetheless, she adds, they will always need the pros. Actors all think they can take a punch or a slap or a fall down the stairs, she says. But most films require many takes. "Where will that actor be after the 5th or 10th or 15th time he has to fall down that stairs?" she says. "That's what I'm there for."
• Alison Tully contributed to this report.
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