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The ultimate wingman

Kiwi stuntman Jacob Tomuri has gone head-to-head with Hollywood heavyweights, but he tells Leena Tailor the blow he never saw coming was the ‘‘sucker punch’’ of mental burnout.

THERE is an icy chill to the water in Wellington’s Oriental Bay at 7pm. For Jacob Tomuri, after long days filming high-octane fight action, a daring dip cleanses, rejuvenates and helps relieve the off-camera mental punches that can come with life as a globetrotting stunt performer and co-ordinator.

On-screen, the 42-year-old has gone head-to-head with Tom Hardy, raced through the Namibian desert battling Charlize Theron and dodged Leonardo DiCaprio, but the one big blow he never saw coming was the behindthe-scenes ‘‘sucker punch’’ of mental burnout. The rattling September moment was the culmination of 11 years juggling Hollywood blockbusters with local projects, maintaining an adequate physique for each job, continually upskilling and shouldering the hefty weight of stunt safety, all while raising a young family with fiance´ e Katie Newton.

‘‘I woke up feeling like I was drowning,’’ he recounts. ‘‘It was a weird sensation I just couldn’t shake. I was panicky and felt like I was suffocating. It was scary because I didn’t know what to do or why it was happening.’’

In Wales, while filming upcoming Netflix thriller Havoc, Tomuri hauled himself to a ju-jitsu session with Cameron Else – also a mental health coach. He sensed Tomuri’s unease and asked what he had been doing for himself. Tomuri was stumped on when he had last enjoyed a stroll or strummed his guitar, and Else told him he had neglected his brain and should start taking 15-minute ice baths.

‘‘I went home, started ordering this bath and had a breakdown. It had been bubbling up and I didn’t even know. [Havoc] was full-on with a lot of weight on my shoulders, and the demands of hardcore fight action is tough.

‘‘I also hadn’t stopped in five years. I’d gone job-after-job and would feel guilty about missing time with my kids, so when I wasn’t working, I was full-on dad mode, while training for the next gig. It all adds up. It hooked me from the side and I should’ve seen it coming.’’

Ice baths instigated alone time and re-tuned his focus. ‘‘Everyone left me alone. If the kids came in, it was like, ‘You’re getting in too, buddy!’ I breathed through it and didn’t think about anything except surviving 15 minutes. Afterwards, I felt I’d achieved something.’’

Three months on, Oriental Bay served as Tomuri’s icy therapy following 15-hour days on Avatar not far from Porirua where mum Janet Tomuri noticed his love for performing and enrolled the 8-year-old into an agency. He landed a Maclean’s Toothpaste commercial, tasted the limelight and earned $1000 – ‘‘bought myself a Commodore Amiga 500!’’

Janet continued supporting Tomuri’s dreams, most notably 10 years later when he arrived at the New Zealand College for Performing Arts, only to reconsider auditioning after seeing older, experienced actors.

‘‘She booted me out the van, said, ‘I love you!’ and drove off,’’ recalls Tomuri, whose father left before he was born and who has four siblings, one who passed away. ‘‘All I could do was audition – and I got in.’’

But school took the backburner once working as an extra on Lord of the Rings landedhiminthe stunt team. Soon he was dabbling between stunt work – aided by martial arts and gymnastics experience – and acting on 2003 flick Peter Pan then Shortland Street, which saw him voted Cleo Celebrity Bachelor of the Year (‘‘I think mum voted 2000 times’’).

‘‘The craziest thing was watching Shortland Street religiously growing up, then suddenly talking to Waverley at reception. I got recognised constantly, which became difficult because you’re at the lights knowing the car next to you is taking photos. But it’s a brilliant training ground. It’s hard to look good because you only get one or two takes, so I learned heaps.’’

Tomuri started working behind-the-scenes, gaining valuable insight for when he eventually returned to stunt work. Conscious of wanting a family, it offered greater stability than acting, but required leaps of faith as he declined well-paying production jobs for briefer stunt gigs on Legend of the Seeker and 2009’s Avatar.

Enthralled by Kiwi Ben

Cooke’s success doubling Daniel Craig in James Bond films, Tomuri was working on Spartacus when he looked for international opportunities. The phone rang weeks later.

Kiwi stuntwoman Dayna Grant, who was doubling Theron in Mad Max: Fury Road, had suggested Tomuri to double Hardy. He was in Namibia within days.

‘‘It was a complete careerchanger. Not knowing how hard it’d be was a blessing in disguise. I worked gruelling six-day weeks for seven months then needed months to defrag. But Tom and I snuck into a screening and I was captivated. Then I had goosebumps seeing my name when the credits rolled. I never dreamed of doing anything of that calibre.

‘‘Tom eventually called needing a body, acting and stunt double [while portraying twins Ronnie and Reggie Kray in Legend]. I went, ‘I can act, but I’m no Tom Hardy. More like Tom Hardly!’ He said, ‘You’ll be fine. You’ll be a Kiwi Kray’.’’

But Tomuri doesn’t do things by halves. Committed to being

‘‘the ultimate wingman’’, he stepped fully into character, mastering the Cockney accent, to enhance Hardy’s performance.

‘‘It was a brain-f… – physically and mentally-tough. Afterwards, Tom goes, ‘You knocked it out-ofthe-park. You’re on with me forever now’. All the hard work throughout my career led to that moment.’’

Two weeks later, Tomuri was in Canada for The Revenant meeting DiCaprio and warning Hardy, ‘‘Take over the conversation if I get awkward!’’

‘‘Leo was talking about changing the world and I was talking about changing nappies. That’s all I had! I did some fight scenes with him and he was great. Cool, down-to-earth and passionate.’’

Tomuri was wrapping Venom: Let There Be Carnage in England as the pandemic hit. Returning home, the Aucklander completed Netflix’s Cowboy Bebop and enjoyed lockdown with Newton and their sons, Dustin, 10 and Remy, 8.

The trio frequently travel with him, but uprooting them midpandemic for Havoc was a heavy decision. The mental strain that followed blindsided both him and Newton, a former magazine editor who is writing a novel.

‘‘But once it happened, we went, ‘Of course it was going to’. It’s natural Katie felt a bit guilty because you think, ‘What could I have done to help?’ but it’s noone’s fault. I was naı¨ve thinking I could keep going at that rate without breaking.

‘‘I think Kiwis could reach out more, though. We’re constantly trying to stay humble and knocking people down instead of allowing them to be proud or climb a mountain. We should be propping each other up, showing empathy and checking in more.’’

Tomuri notes working in showbiz, where he is constantly judged for his performance, also takes a toll. His September setback marked an ‘‘epiphany’’, which taught him to be selfish.

‘‘[People think] a hardcore stuntman’s got his s… together, but none of us do. It was nice to go, I’m breakable and that’s cool. I can rebuild. I never thought I needed to work on my brain, but I’m so aware now.

Tomuri also started running and may see a psychologist if he feels the need in future. ‘‘I tell people I would never have told that I have a weakness. I wish somebody had spoken to me about it earlier, because I might’ve seen it coming or put measures in place like today, jumping in a bloody ocean and having a moment to myself.’’

O‘I woke up feeling like I was drowning... I was panicky and felt like I was suffocating. It was scary because I didn’t know what to do or why it was happening.’ JACOB TOMURI

ne person Tomuri never imagined admitting such struggles to was Hardy ‘‘because I’m supposed to be the rock’’. ‘‘But it’s important everybody knows. Tom’s fought his own mental health demons. He gave me good advice and we’re like psychologists for each other.’’

Becoming besties was far from Tomuri’s mind when he met Hardy, 44. But the more they worked, and eventually lived, together the closer they became. Hardy even described Tomuri as a ‘‘barrel of laughs’’ to Esquire UK.

‘‘That’s difficult when you need to be professional,’’ admits Tomuri. ‘‘Sometimes on-set, he’s like, ‘What’s this professional voice, man?’ But the brilliance of Tom is he likes to have fun. Between takes he’s throwing pistachios or mocking my skinny legs.’’

In Whanganui where she lives with her partner, Janet’s never met Hardy, yet he is on the family wall, thanks to a photo he signed reading, ‘‘To mum, Love Jacob 2’’.

The sweet message reflects the importance of family to both Hardy, a father-of-three, and Tomuri. Some might re-evaluate high-risk occupations after becoming parents, but for Tomuri, fatherhood has amplified professional drive.

‘‘It’s a double-edged sword ... They’re a reason you get up and to work because you’re a provider. And they motivate you to be better, but to be better as a stunt performer means taking risks.

‘‘I’m more sensible outside of work now, but I still put my hand up for big stunts and have more passion and desire to lead by example. I want to make my kids proud.’’

Dustin already wishes to become an actor/stuntman, meaning Newton could eventually find herself with two daredevils in the family.

She and Tomuri met through friends and he proposed on his 30th birthday – ‘‘it felt welloverdue!’’ – but they remain engaged. Tomuri is unfazed, rather charmed by the notion of never getting married. ‘‘I think it’s more romantic that you choose to be with your partner every day, not because you have to.’’

After 23 years together, Newton is accustomed to Tomuri’s highrisk work, but it is natural to worry, so by request, he texts her after a major stunt.

And while every stuntperson has ‘‘war wounds’’, safety remains paramount – an issue highlighted after cinematographer Halyna Hutchins was killed by a gun being handled by Alec Baldwin on Rust.

‘‘That was heartbreaking. I was angry and sad because that didn’t need to happen. You walk this fine line between content that’s powerful, but safe, and there’s lots of weight on a stunt co-ordinator’s shoulders to take everybody home safely.’’

For scenes involving firearms, Tomuri is rigorous about safety protocols, paperwork and unequivocally ensuring the armourer has shown him a weapon is clear. He credits

Havoc’s crew for remaining stringent around safety amid the added complications of Covid-19.

As he spends summer ‘‘resetting’’ to ensure he is mentally-fit for his next job, Tomuri says Havoc did not just instill crucial wellbeing lessons. He left Wales with heightened cultural pride after seeing Welsh widely used by children and on street signs. Inspired to sharpen his te reo, he hopes it will become equally-immersed through Aotearoa and feels the power of his ancestry before every big stunt.

‘‘I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be performing in Hollywood blockbusters. Part of what I do is violent storytelling and I’ve often wondered where that interest comes from.

‘‘It’s in my DNA. Not only were we great storytellers, but once, we were warriors. We fought for land and each other and when I step out to perform, I feel that in my blood. I like it. I feel alive and feel that fight in my bones.’’

ENTERTAINMENT

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2022-01-23T08:00:00.0000000Z

2022-01-23T08:00:00.0000000Z

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