The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg
2025·Crime·1h 22m
7.0
★
When a polite robber carries out a series of odd bank heists, the police investigation takes a sharp turn—pointing to Steve Vogelsang, a garrulous former broadcaster once known as “The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg.” Set against Winnipeg’s frozen streets and familiar faces, Vogelsang’s fall from local celebrity to bank robber echoes like a news story you can’t quite forget.
Directed by Charlie Siskel and Ben Daughtrey
Trailer
IMDB
N/A
Cast
Will Arnett
Narrator
Crew
Will Arnett
Producer
Tyler Friesen
Co-Producer
Stephen Gray
Co-Producer
Daniel Turcan
Producer
Ben Berman
Consulting Producer
Kyle Parkinson
Sound Recordist
Jeremy Ratzlaff
Second Unit Director of Photography
Popular Reviews
3 reviews
Neil
6.0★ · 05/13/25
So Like are there no other men in Winnipeg or...
So Like are there no other men in Winnipeg or...
WeavierPRO
4.0★ · 05/09/25
Stop me if you've heard this one. A Canadian sports broadcaster walks into a bank. He's cradling a bleeding hand, wearing a bomb and smiling a crooked smile.
"Hi," he says. "I'm TV's Steve Vogelsang. Hand over everything in the till."
OK, maybe he didn't use those exact words.
But according to The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg, Vogelsang's real-life robberies did, more or less, follow those beats. And the documentary — premiering Friday on Prime and made with Vogelsang's co-operation — markets itself as following that bizarre spree; a descent from CKY Winnipeg's supposedly fan-favourite 1990s onscreen jokester, to a 2010s convicted felon with six bank robberies spanning two provinces.
Astoundingly, we learn much of this from Vogelsang himself — a few years after his six-and-a-half year prison sentence, and seemingly more than game to re-enact the various crimes he orchestrated at banks between Alberta and Saskatchewan.
But as he narrates how he built the fake bomb in a nearby motel room and even why he once went for a facial immediately after a stickup, the question, of course, becomes "Why?"
Why would a successful, well-liked and seemingly normal journalist suddenly — to steal a Vince Gilligan-ism — break bad?
In keeping with that AMC show, part of the reason may be that he was never all that normal. The by-then divorced, twice-retired (from journalism and then teaching) enigma at the centre of our story is perhaps not all that difficult to unravel. He's prickly; he's self-assured to a fault and impulsive. He received a no-contact order for a student he dated; he once told his ex-wife — while they were still married — he would forever remain the smartest person she'd ever met.
But that's about where the twists and turns end. We get an intriguing opening, detailing Vogelsang's often cinematic robbery plans, and we hear from more than a few people who actually knew him. There are his students, ex-wife and the cops and prosecutors tasked with catching him. There's even the slick narration of Will Arnett, perpetually dwelling on the strangeness of both the case, and Vogelsang's participation in the documentary.
Though, perhaps somewhat confusingly, Arnett is cast as a bison, telling the story in a tongue-in-cheek voiceover that frequently cuts to images of the animal as if it's the one telling the story. It's a frustratingly artificial conceit, seemingly chosen to both tie in to the general tone of the documentary and, as Vogelsang explains in a pointedly unexamined remark, because the misunderstood brutes are his "spirit animal."
In short, neither our star or story are, as Shrek would say, like an onion: The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is critically short when it comes to layers. There's even a depressing lack of novelty. Like how band Flight of the Conchords often jokingly described themselves as New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-gangsta-rap-funk-folk comedy duo, Vogelsang is a runner-up even in the incredibly niche genre he's created for himself.
When it comes to the most famous Canadian late '80s/early '90s ex-performer-turned-bank-robber, subsequently starring in a streamer-released documentary about their time in prison and subsequent rehabilitation, Vogelsang is, at best, number two.
The winner would probably be actor Deleriyes (Joey) Cramer ( Flight of the Navigator). But where his documentary, Life After the Navigator, effectively mines his pathos and self-reflection, The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is seemingly more interested in the story's elevator pitch than its substance.
Review continues on cbc.ca
"Hi," he says. "I'm TV's Steve Vogelsang. Hand over everything in the till."
OK, maybe he didn't use those exact words.
But according to The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg, Vogelsang's real-life robberies did, more or less, follow those beats. And the documentary — premiering Friday on Prime and made with Vogelsang's co-operation — markets itself as following that bizarre spree; a descent from CKY Winnipeg's supposedly fan-favourite 1990s onscreen jokester, to a 2010s convicted felon with six bank robberies spanning two provinces.
Astoundingly, we learn much of this from Vogelsang himself — a few years after his six-and-a-half year prison sentence, and seemingly more than game to re-enact the various crimes he orchestrated at banks between Alberta and Saskatchewan.
But as he narrates how he built the fake bomb in a nearby motel room and even why he once went for a facial immediately after a stickup, the question, of course, becomes "Why?"
Why would a successful, well-liked and seemingly normal journalist suddenly — to steal a Vince Gilligan-ism — break bad?
In keeping with that AMC show, part of the reason may be that he was never all that normal. The by-then divorced, twice-retired (from journalism and then teaching) enigma at the centre of our story is perhaps not all that difficult to unravel. He's prickly; he's self-assured to a fault and impulsive. He received a no-contact order for a student he dated; he once told his ex-wife — while they were still married — he would forever remain the smartest person she'd ever met.
But that's about where the twists and turns end. We get an intriguing opening, detailing Vogelsang's often cinematic robbery plans, and we hear from more than a few people who actually knew him. There are his students, ex-wife and the cops and prosecutors tasked with catching him. There's even the slick narration of Will Arnett, perpetually dwelling on the strangeness of both the case, and Vogelsang's participation in the documentary.
Though, perhaps somewhat confusingly, Arnett is cast as a bison, telling the story in a tongue-in-cheek voiceover that frequently cuts to images of the animal as if it's the one telling the story. It's a frustratingly artificial conceit, seemingly chosen to both tie in to the general tone of the documentary and, as Vogelsang explains in a pointedly unexamined remark, because the misunderstood brutes are his "spirit animal."
In short, neither our star or story are, as Shrek would say, like an onion: The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is critically short when it comes to layers. There's even a depressing lack of novelty. Like how band Flight of the Conchords often jokingly described themselves as New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-gangsta-rap-funk-folk comedy duo, Vogelsang is a runner-up even in the incredibly niche genre he's created for himself.
When it comes to the most famous Canadian late '80s/early '90s ex-performer-turned-bank-robber, subsequently starring in a streamer-released documentary about their time in prison and subsequent rehabilitation, Vogelsang is, at best, number two.
The winner would probably be actor Deleriyes (Joey) Cramer ( Flight of the Navigator). But where his documentary, Life After the Navigator, effectively mines his pathos and self-reflection, The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is seemingly more interested in the story's elevator pitch than its substance.
Review continues on cbc.ca
Stop me if you've heard this one. A Canadian sports broadcaster walks into a bank. He's cradling a bleeding hand, wearing a bomb and smiling a crooked smile.
"Hi," he says. "I'm TV's Steve Vogelsang. Hand over everything in the till."
OK, maybe he didn't use those exact words.
But according to The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg, Vogelsang's real-life robberies did, more or less, follow those beats. And the documentary — premiering Friday on Prime and made with Vogelsang's co-operation — markets itself as following that bizarre spree; a descent from CKY Winnipeg's supposedly fan-favourite 1990s onscreen jokester, to a 2010s convicted felon with six bank robberies spanning two provinces.
Astoundingly, we learn much of this from Vogelsang himself — a few years after his six-and-a-half year prison sentence, and seemingly more than game to re-enact the various crimes he orchestrated at banks between Alberta and Saskatchewan.
But as he narrates how he built the fake bomb in a nearby motel room and even why he once went for a facial immediately after a stickup, the question, of course, becomes "Why?"
Why would a successful, well-liked and seemingly normal journalist suddenly — to steal a Vince Gilligan-ism — break bad?
In keeping with that AMC show, part of the reason may be that he was never all that normal. The by-then divorced, twice-retired (from journalism and then teaching) enigma at the centre of our story is perhaps not all that difficult to unravel. He's prickly; he's self-assured to a fault and impulsive. He received a no-contact order for a student he dated; he once told his ex-wife — while they were still married — he would forever remain the smartest person she'd ever met.
But that's about where the twists and turns end. We get an intriguing opening, detailing Vogelsang's often cinematic robbery plans, and we hear from more than a few people who actually knew him. There are his students, ex-wife and the cops and prosecutors tasked with catching him. There's even the slick narration of Will Arnett, perpetually dwelling on the strangeness of both the case, and Vogelsang's participation in the documentary.
Though, perhaps somewhat confusingly, Arnett is cast as a bison, telling the story in a tongue-in-cheek voiceover that frequently cuts to images of the animal as if it's the one telling the story. It's a frustratingly artificial conceit, seemingly chosen to both tie in to the general tone of the documentary and, as Vogelsang explains in a pointedly unexamined remark, because the misunderstood brutes are his "spirit animal."
In short, neither our star or story are, as Shrek would say, like an onion: The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is critically short when it comes to layers. There's even a depressing lack of novelty. Like how band Flight of the Conchords often jokingly described themselves as New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-gangsta-rap-funk-folk comedy duo, Vogelsang is a runner-up even in the incredibly niche genre he's created for himself.
When it comes to the most famous Canadian late '80s/early '90s ex-performer-turned-bank-robber, subsequently starring in a streamer-released documentary about their time in prison and subsequent rehabilitation, Vogelsang is, at best, number two.
The winner would probably be actor Deleriyes (Joey) Cramer ( Flight of the Navigator). But where his documentary, Life After the Navigator, effectively mines his pathos and self-reflection, The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is seemingly more interested in the story's elevator pitch than its substance.
Review continues on cbc.ca
"Hi," he says. "I'm TV's Steve Vogelsang. Hand over everything in the till."
OK, maybe he didn't use those exact words.
But according to The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg, Vogelsang's real-life robberies did, more or less, follow those beats. And the documentary — premiering Friday on Prime and made with Vogelsang's co-operation — markets itself as following that bizarre spree; a descent from CKY Winnipeg's supposedly fan-favourite 1990s onscreen jokester, to a 2010s convicted felon with six bank robberies spanning two provinces.
Astoundingly, we learn much of this from Vogelsang himself — a few years after his six-and-a-half year prison sentence, and seemingly more than game to re-enact the various crimes he orchestrated at banks between Alberta and Saskatchewan.
But as he narrates how he built the fake bomb in a nearby motel room and even why he once went for a facial immediately after a stickup, the question, of course, becomes "Why?"
Why would a successful, well-liked and seemingly normal journalist suddenly — to steal a Vince Gilligan-ism — break bad?
In keeping with that AMC show, part of the reason may be that he was never all that normal. The by-then divorced, twice-retired (from journalism and then teaching) enigma at the centre of our story is perhaps not all that difficult to unravel. He's prickly; he's self-assured to a fault and impulsive. He received a no-contact order for a student he dated; he once told his ex-wife — while they were still married — he would forever remain the smartest person she'd ever met.
But that's about where the twists and turns end. We get an intriguing opening, detailing Vogelsang's often cinematic robbery plans, and we hear from more than a few people who actually knew him. There are his students, ex-wife and the cops and prosecutors tasked with catching him. There's even the slick narration of Will Arnett, perpetually dwelling on the strangeness of both the case, and Vogelsang's participation in the documentary.
Though, perhaps somewhat confusingly, Arnett is cast as a bison, telling the story in a tongue-in-cheek voiceover that frequently cuts to images of the animal as if it's the one telling the story. It's a frustratingly artificial conceit, seemingly chosen to both tie in to the general tone of the documentary and, as Vogelsang explains in a pointedly unexamined remark, because the misunderstood brutes are his "spirit animal."
In short, neither our star or story are, as Shrek would say, like an onion: The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is critically short when it comes to layers. There's even a depressing lack of novelty. Like how band Flight of the Conchords often jokingly described themselves as New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-gangsta-rap-funk-folk comedy duo, Vogelsang is a runner-up even in the incredibly niche genre he's created for himself.
When it comes to the most famous Canadian late '80s/early '90s ex-performer-turned-bank-robber, subsequently starring in a streamer-released documentary about their time in prison and subsequent rehabilitation, Vogelsang is, at best, number two.
The winner would probably be actor Deleriyes (Joey) Cramer ( Flight of the Navigator). But where his documentary, Life After the Navigator, effectively mines his pathos and self-reflection, The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is seemingly more interested in the story's elevator pitch than its substance.
Review continues on cbc.ca
WeavierPRO
4.0★ · 05/09/25
Stop me if you've heard this one. A Canadian sports broadcaster walks into a bank. He's cradling a bleeding hand, wearing a bomb and smiling a crooked smile.
"Hi," he says. "I'm TV's Steve Vogelsang. Hand over everything in the till."
OK, maybe he didn't use those exact words.
But according to The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg, Vogelsang's real-life robberies did, more or less, follow those beats. And the documentary — premiering Friday on Prime and made with Vogelsang's co-operation — markets itself as following that bizarre spree; a descent from CKY Winnipeg's supposedly fan-favourite 1990s onscreen jokester, to a 2010s convicted felon with six bank robberies spanning two provinces.
Astoundingly, we learn much of this from Vogelsang himself — a few years after his six-and-a-half year prison sentence, and seemingly more than game to re-enact the various crimes he orchestrated at banks between Alberta and Saskatchewan.
But as he narrates how he built the fake bomb in a nearby motel room and even why he once went for a facial immediately after a stickup, the question, of course, becomes "Why?"
Why would a successful, well-liked and seemingly normal journalist suddenly — to steal a Vince Gilligan-ism — break bad?
In keeping with that AMC show, part of the reason may be that he was never all that normal. The by-then divorced, twice-retired (from journalism and then teaching) enigma at the centre of our story is perhaps not all that difficult to unravel. He's prickly; he's self-assured to a fault and impulsive. He received a no-contact order for a student he dated; he once told his ex-wife — while they were still married — he would forever remain the smartest person she'd ever met.
But that's about where the twists and turns end. We get an intriguing opening, detailing Vogelsang's often cinematic robbery plans, and we hear from more than a few people who actually knew him. There are his students, ex-wife and the cops and prosecutors tasked with catching him. There's even the slick narration of Will Arnett, perpetually dwelling on the strangeness of both the case, and Vogelsang's participation in the documentary.
Though, perhaps somewhat confusingly, Arnett is cast as a bison, telling the story in a tongue-in-cheek voiceover that frequently cuts to images of the animal as if it's the one telling the story. It's a frustratingly artificial conceit, seemingly chosen to both tie in to the general tone of the documentary and, as Vogelsang explains in a pointedly unexamined remark, because the misunderstood brutes are his "spirit animal."
In short, neither our star or story are, as Shrek would say, like an onion: The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is critically short when it comes to layers. There's even a depressing lack of novelty. Like how band Flight of the Conchords often jokingly described themselves as New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-gangsta-rap-funk-folk comedy duo, Vogelsang is a runner-up even in the incredibly niche genre he's created for himself.
When it comes to the most famous Canadian late '80s/early '90s ex-performer-turned-bank-robber, subsequently starring in a streamer-released documentary about their time in prison and subsequent rehabilitation, Vogelsang is, at best, number two.
The winner would probably be actor Deleriyes (Joey) Cramer ( Flight of the Navigator). But where his documentary, Life After the Navigator, effectively mines his pathos and self-reflection, The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is seemingly more interested in the story's elevator pitch than its substance.
Review continues on cbc.ca
"Hi," he says. "I'm TV's Steve Vogelsang. Hand over everything in the till."
OK, maybe he didn't use those exact words.
But according to The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg, Vogelsang's real-life robberies did, more or less, follow those beats. And the documentary — premiering Friday on Prime and made with Vogelsang's co-operation — markets itself as following that bizarre spree; a descent from CKY Winnipeg's supposedly fan-favourite 1990s onscreen jokester, to a 2010s convicted felon with six bank robberies spanning two provinces.
Astoundingly, we learn much of this from Vogelsang himself — a few years after his six-and-a-half year prison sentence, and seemingly more than game to re-enact the various crimes he orchestrated at banks between Alberta and Saskatchewan.
But as he narrates how he built the fake bomb in a nearby motel room and even why he once went for a facial immediately after a stickup, the question, of course, becomes "Why?"
Why would a successful, well-liked and seemingly normal journalist suddenly — to steal a Vince Gilligan-ism — break bad?
In keeping with that AMC show, part of the reason may be that he was never all that normal. The by-then divorced, twice-retired (from journalism and then teaching) enigma at the centre of our story is perhaps not all that difficult to unravel. He's prickly; he's self-assured to a fault and impulsive. He received a no-contact order for a student he dated; he once told his ex-wife — while they were still married — he would forever remain the smartest person she'd ever met.
But that's about where the twists and turns end. We get an intriguing opening, detailing Vogelsang's often cinematic robbery plans, and we hear from more than a few people who actually knew him. There are his students, ex-wife and the cops and prosecutors tasked with catching him. There's even the slick narration of Will Arnett, perpetually dwelling on the strangeness of both the case, and Vogelsang's participation in the documentary.
Though, perhaps somewhat confusingly, Arnett is cast as a bison, telling the story in a tongue-in-cheek voiceover that frequently cuts to images of the animal as if it's the one telling the story. It's a frustratingly artificial conceit, seemingly chosen to both tie in to the general tone of the documentary and, as Vogelsang explains in a pointedly unexamined remark, because the misunderstood brutes are his "spirit animal."
In short, neither our star or story are, as Shrek would say, like an onion: The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is critically short when it comes to layers. There's even a depressing lack of novelty. Like how band Flight of the Conchords often jokingly described themselves as New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-gangsta-rap-funk-folk comedy duo, Vogelsang is a runner-up even in the incredibly niche genre he's created for himself.
When it comes to the most famous Canadian late '80s/early '90s ex-performer-turned-bank-robber, subsequently starring in a streamer-released documentary about their time in prison and subsequent rehabilitation, Vogelsang is, at best, number two.
The winner would probably be actor Deleriyes (Joey) Cramer ( Flight of the Navigator). But where his documentary, Life After the Navigator, effectively mines his pathos and self-reflection, The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is seemingly more interested in the story's elevator pitch than its substance.
Review continues on cbc.ca
Stop me if you've heard this one. A Canadian sports broadcaster walks into a bank. He's cradling a bleeding hand, wearing a bomb and smiling a crooked smile.
"Hi," he says. "I'm TV's Steve Vogelsang. Hand over everything in the till."
OK, maybe he didn't use those exact words.
But according to The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg, Vogelsang's real-life robberies did, more or less, follow those beats. And the documentary — premiering Friday on Prime and made with Vogelsang's co-operation — markets itself as following that bizarre spree; a descent from CKY Winnipeg's supposedly fan-favourite 1990s onscreen jokester, to a 2010s convicted felon with six bank robberies spanning two provinces.
Astoundingly, we learn much of this from Vogelsang himself — a few years after his six-and-a-half year prison sentence, and seemingly more than game to re-enact the various crimes he orchestrated at banks between Alberta and Saskatchewan.
But as he narrates how he built the fake bomb in a nearby motel room and even why he once went for a facial immediately after a stickup, the question, of course, becomes "Why?"
Why would a successful, well-liked and seemingly normal journalist suddenly — to steal a Vince Gilligan-ism — break bad?
In keeping with that AMC show, part of the reason may be that he was never all that normal. The by-then divorced, twice-retired (from journalism and then teaching) enigma at the centre of our story is perhaps not all that difficult to unravel. He's prickly; he's self-assured to a fault and impulsive. He received a no-contact order for a student he dated; he once told his ex-wife — while they were still married — he would forever remain the smartest person she'd ever met.
But that's about where the twists and turns end. We get an intriguing opening, detailing Vogelsang's often cinematic robbery plans, and we hear from more than a few people who actually knew him. There are his students, ex-wife and the cops and prosecutors tasked with catching him. There's even the slick narration of Will Arnett, perpetually dwelling on the strangeness of both the case, and Vogelsang's participation in the documentary.
Though, perhaps somewhat confusingly, Arnett is cast as a bison, telling the story in a tongue-in-cheek voiceover that frequently cuts to images of the animal as if it's the one telling the story. It's a frustratingly artificial conceit, seemingly chosen to both tie in to the general tone of the documentary and, as Vogelsang explains in a pointedly unexamined remark, because the misunderstood brutes are his "spirit animal."
In short, neither our star or story are, as Shrek would say, like an onion: The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is critically short when it comes to layers. There's even a depressing lack of novelty. Like how band Flight of the Conchords often jokingly described themselves as New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-gangsta-rap-funk-folk comedy duo, Vogelsang is a runner-up even in the incredibly niche genre he's created for himself.
When it comes to the most famous Canadian late '80s/early '90s ex-performer-turned-bank-robber, subsequently starring in a streamer-released documentary about their time in prison and subsequent rehabilitation, Vogelsang is, at best, number two.
The winner would probably be actor Deleriyes (Joey) Cramer ( Flight of the Navigator). But where his documentary, Life After the Navigator, effectively mines his pathos and self-reflection, The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is seemingly more interested in the story's elevator pitch than its substance.
Review continues on cbc.ca
"Hi," he says. "I'm TV's Steve Vogelsang. Hand over everything in the till."
OK, maybe he didn't use those exact words.
But according to The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg, Vogelsang's real-life robberies did, more or less, follow those beats. And the documentary — premiering Friday on Prime and made with Vogelsang's co-operation — markets itself as following that bizarre spree; a descent from CKY Winnipeg's supposedly fan-favourite 1990s onscreen jokester, to a 2010s convicted felon with six bank robberies spanning two provinces.
Astoundingly, we learn much of this from Vogelsang himself — a few years after his six-and-a-half year prison sentence, and seemingly more than game to re-enact the various crimes he orchestrated at banks between Alberta and Saskatchewan.
But as he narrates how he built the fake bomb in a nearby motel room and even why he once went for a facial immediately after a stickup, the question, of course, becomes "Why?"
Why would a successful, well-liked and seemingly normal journalist suddenly — to steal a Vince Gilligan-ism — break bad?
In keeping with that AMC show, part of the reason may be that he was never all that normal. The by-then divorced, twice-retired (from journalism and then teaching) enigma at the centre of our story is perhaps not all that difficult to unravel. He's prickly; he's self-assured to a fault and impulsive. He received a no-contact order for a student he dated; he once told his ex-wife — while they were still married — he would forever remain the smartest person she'd ever met.
But that's about where the twists and turns end. We get an intriguing opening, detailing Vogelsang's often cinematic robbery plans, and we hear from more than a few people who actually knew him. There are his students, ex-wife and the cops and prosecutors tasked with catching him. There's even the slick narration of Will Arnett, perpetually dwelling on the strangeness of both the case, and Vogelsang's participation in the documentary.
Though, perhaps somewhat confusingly, Arnett is cast as a bison, telling the story in a tongue-in-cheek voiceover that frequently cuts to images of the animal as if it's the one telling the story. It's a frustratingly artificial conceit, seemingly chosen to both tie in to the general tone of the documentary and, as Vogelsang explains in a pointedly unexamined remark, because the misunderstood brutes are his "spirit animal."
In short, neither our star or story are, as Shrek would say, like an onion: The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is critically short when it comes to layers. There's even a depressing lack of novelty. Like how band Flight of the Conchords often jokingly described themselves as New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-gangsta-rap-funk-folk comedy duo, Vogelsang is a runner-up even in the incredibly niche genre he's created for himself.
When it comes to the most famous Canadian late '80s/early '90s ex-performer-turned-bank-robber, subsequently starring in a streamer-released documentary about their time in prison and subsequent rehabilitation, Vogelsang is, at best, number two.
The winner would probably be actor Deleriyes (Joey) Cramer ( Flight of the Navigator). But where his documentary, Life After the Navigator, effectively mines his pathos and self-reflection, The Sexiest Man in Winnipeg is seemingly more interested in the story's elevator pitch than its substance.
Review continues on cbc.ca
Darryl
2.6★ · 06/30/25