When discussing the specific subject of female stunt performers in Hollywood, the ‘untold’ story is one of pervasive, decades-long male dominance and an implied and often overt misogyny. It is evident in the way female stunt performers were prolific during the silent era – regularly doing all sorts of dangerous things like jumping from horses onto moving trains and driving cars through buildings – until Hollywood became industrialised and incorporated, run by businessmen who pushed women to the margins. It is evident in the way Debbie Evans – one of America’s best competitive motorcyclists – says she still feels she has to prove herself when working on a film set. It is evident in how many female stunt performers say that a single mistake can plague their career, while mistakes made by men are seemingly more accepted. It is evident in the process known as “wigging”, in which male stunt performers double female characters, instead of using female stunt performers to do the same job. It is evident in how Julie Ann Johnson – the first woman to work as a stunt coordinator on episodic TV (Charlie’s Angels) and the founder of the Stuntwomen’s Association – claimed unfair dismissal when she dared to call-out the use of drugs on set, resulting in a protracted 13-year court case in which her professional competency was constantly brought into question. (She won the case, although she is yet to receive her $1.1m in damages. For more details on the case, refer to Mollie Gregory’s excellent book on which this documentary is based.) And it is evident in the still incredibly low number of female stunt coordinators – something Melissa Stubbs is trying her best to address (the documentary includes great behind-the-scenes footage of Stubbs filming a car stunt). The documentary doesn’t fully expand into other minority groups in Hollywood – like the lack of racial diversity in stunts – although it does reference the creation of the Black Stuntman’s Association, who allowed women to join because of their mutual understanding of prejudice within the industry. April Wright’s documentary is gripping throughout, with a vast amount of contributors – including high-profile male filmmakers like Paul Feig, Paul Verhoeven, and producer Albert Ruddy – but the real magic happens when the younger stunt performers (including Amy Johnston and Alyma Dorsey) interview the unsung, retired stuntwomen who have helped to pave the way for greater representation. Like when Amy consoles a tearful Jeannie Epper – the legendary, fearless double for Linda Carter on Wonder Woman – and when Jadie David becomes emotional when recounting the time she witnessed the death of a colleague on set. These heartbreaking stories are, of course, not unique to women, but they do explain just how high the stakes are in an industry in which people take incredible risks all in the name of entertainment. The overriding message is that, thankfully, a new, energetic, versatile and highly talented generation of female stunt performers (Johnston, Dorsey, the Moneymaker sisters, Jessie Graff, Angela Meryll, and many more) are now working in a far safer, egalitarian world than the women who went before them. It’s still not a perfect world, of course, and there is still work that needs to be done to guarantee that anybody, from any walk of life, can survive and thrive in the industry.