Technical Prowess Meets Meathead Charm in Action Rom-Com The Fall Guy

The deceptive difficulty of action movies, comedies, and their intersection is being able to do something completely stupid with total straight-faced commitment. Like so many easily dismissed parts of film production, a punchline delivered with invested emotion is just as hard to pull off as a pratfall performed with total abandon. If either misses its mark by a hair, you fall flat on your face and leave the audience hating your smug performance or hyperactive flailing. It’s all the more impressive, then, that Ryan Gosling does it all in The Fall Guy.
He plays stuntman Colt Seavers, living bruise, returning to action One Last Time in order to help his old flame Jody Moreno (Emily Blunt) on her first directorial effort, Metalstorm. That’s the simple set-up, designed to showcase the jock rock of filmmaking: A stunt spectacular combining the technical prowess and meathead charm of the dirtbag daredevils behind every awesome car crash and killer fight scene. And, thanks to Gosling—playing his role like his schmuck detective from The Nice Guys accidentally found himself in a Mission: Impossible—the film breezily flits between a savvy behind-the-scenes pastiche and a committed action rom-com.
Ok, The Fall Guy owes its success to far more people than its leading man. That’s kind of its point. Directed by longtime stuntman David Leitch (with this film, distancing himself from solely being the less impressive half of the John Wick team) and written by Drew Pearce (one of Leitch’s Hobbs & Shaw scribes), The Fall Guy works best as an anti-blockbuster. It wants to blow shit up and wow us with its ballsy choreography, but it also wants to take the shine off these feats of movie magic. These moments aren’t easy, and they aren’t entirely cobbled together from pixels by an offshore FX team (at least, not yet). They’re the result of human labor, operating at the idiot intersection of math, science and Jackass. The amount of explosives needs to be just right, the timing has to be perfect, the driver needs to have a laissez faire attitude towards mortality. They just don’t let the controlled chaos bleed out into the marketing.
But even if The Fall Guy wasn’t constantly taking us through the ins and outs of shooting massive action moments—like car crashes, flaming death scenes, and ten-story falls—with a production team working in well-oiled tandem, we’d get the picture based on the plot itself. Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), the star of Moreno’s orange-filtered Dune parody (complete with a howling woman on the soundtrack), is a terrible diva and goes AWOL from set. His old stunt double Seavers has gotta track him down.
The ensuing silliness works in part because Gosling gets to go full bumbling PI mode, and in part because it extrapolates The Fall Guy’s more grounded on-set problems to hilarious heights. The eventual reason behind Ryder’s absence is ridiculous, as are all the ways in which Seavers has to punch, jump, drive and shoot his way to the other end of this rabbit hole. But, in The Fall Guy’s world, it’s just one more stupid hurdle on a list of a thousand stupid hurdles between day one’s call time and getting Metalstorm in the can.
It’s also a long-winded grand gesture between Seavers and Moreno, whose romance is lifted beyond its bare-bones writing by its convincing performers (Blunt does some great deadpan) and a couple endearing visual gimmicks from Leitch. Split-screen always works, as does a grown man crying to Taylor Swift. And The Fall Guy is never afraid to show its full hand; whether it’s lampshading its combat or its love story, it does so with a bullheaded confidence that’s as bluntly winning as its needledrops. (“I Was Made for Lovin’ You,” The Darkness and the Miami Vice theme? My sleeves just fell off.) But the real romance here, one that’s a little bitter with age but still affectionate, is between The Fall Guy and film production.