I used to work in the film business. Once I witnessed a dangerous stunt, a staged suicide for which a car had to crash over a bridge and land in the stream below. The stunt man who set up the scene was intimidating, a tall, handsome man who operated physically and psychologically at a remove from the rest of us. In that scene, he was required only to drive the car up to the bridge; the crash would take place without him in the vehicle. So he lived, wasn’t even bruised.
Once in a while, I hear about injuries on film sets caused, in my strong opinion, by the monomania of a film director whose ego cannot be penetrated by any common sense, any responsibility for the dangers he places others in.
And the biz indulges directors. At some point decades ago they demanded and were granted “auteur” status which they seem to interpret as the freedom to become insane despots.
I may be an enthralled audience for the work they do, but I don’t have to love the way they achieve it.