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fantasmalforces · 3 years ago
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TAG DUMP PT. 6
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rorymccann · 8 years ago
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2017 July 17
'Game of Thrones' Premiere: Rory McCann Stares Into the Hound's Fiery Future
The erstwhile Sandor Clegane speaks with THR about his key role in the season seven premiere.
by Josh Wigler
[Warning: this story contains spoilers for the season seven premiere of HBO's Game of Thrones, "Dragonstone."]
It's just Sandor Clegane's luck he would end up with a band of fire worshippers. Almost seems like divine justice.
Rory McCann's take-no-nonsense brute of a character stood front and center in the Game of Thrones season seven premiere's most quietly emotional storyline. In one of the last acts of the episode, the Hound and the Brotherhood Without Banners seek shelter from the winds of winter inside a cabin — the same cabin belonging to the farmer and daughter Clegane robbed in season four's "Breaker of Chains," when he and Arya (Maisie Williams) were seeking refuge in the aftermath of the Red Wedding.
"He's a good man, his daughter makes a nice stew, and they'll both be dead come winter," Clegane told a furious Arya at the time. "He's weak. He can't protect himself. They'll both be dead come winter. Dead men don't need silver."
Clegane might not be a big believer in magic, but he predicted the future all the same: the farmer and his daughter were dead come winter, their bodies huddled and frozen in a corner, not far from where the Hound left them. It's a moment that forces Clegane to literally confront ghosts of his past, paired with a moment that forces him to face the ghosts of the future when Thoros of Myr (Paul Kaye) convinces him to stare into a fire, so that he may see visions of their destiny. The Hound, famously afraid of fire and famously cynical of anything too far afield from reality, relents and peers into the flames — and is promptly astonished by what he sees.
"Ice. A wall of ice. The Wall. It's where the Wall meets the sea. There's a castle there," he whispers. Fire crackles, briefly startling him, before the allure of what's in the flames overpower his fears. "There's a mountain. Looks like an arrowhead. The dead are marching past. Thousands of them."
In showing someone as skeptical as Clegane so overwhelmed by such a definitive display of magic, Game of Thrones drives home the point Beric Dondarrion (Richard Dormer) is trying to make: there's an inevitability about what's coming next, whatever it is. Read on for what McCann told The Hollywood Reporter about what's coming next for Clegane, as much as he can say — including some hype for the "Clegane Bowl," the fan term for the (hopefully) inevitable battle between the Hound and his brother, the Mountain, played by Icelandic bodybuilder Hafþór Júlíus "Thor" Björnsson.
It was a big premiere for the Hound. Congratulations on the episode.
Thank you, that's very kind. I managed to watch a little bit of it. The first thing I thought when I saw the Brotherhood arrive, going through the snow toward the farmhouse, I was chuckling to myself, because even though we all look very cold, I remember it was actually quite a nice day there. I was actually sweating at the time!
They just made it look very cold?
Yeah, they're very good at that. (Laughs.) All of that snow is paper with giant fans blowing in your face. Sometimes, you can't understand what you're saying to each other.
How do you use that in a scene like this, which is really about the Hound facing the bitter cold of his past — and here you are, in the sweltering heat?
I had probably been up for six or seven hours already. I'm in a grumpy mood anyway before I walk on set, because I feel like I've done my day already before the other actors arrive, because it takes so long to put my face on. (Laughs.) But I thought it was fantastic, going back to the same cottage that the Hound had visited before. It was quite a change of things through the Hound's character, just in these few seasons. The development in him. The change in him.
The Hound began Game of Thrones as such a brusque and violent man, and then he went away for a while. Some of those aspects of Clegane aren't going to go away, but he's somewhat softer now. What are your thoughts on his transformation, since returning to the show?
I feel in a way, and even when he was with Arya, in a way he's been looking for peace. He's almost maybe looking for faith, and trying to understand the Brotherhood Without Banners and what the Lord of Light is. I don't think he understands it totally, not yet. He's trying to get into the heads of the guys he's around. He's becoming more human, I feel. He's coming back to that farmhouse and seeing what he's done. He sealed their fate, the way he left them last time. They may have died anyway, but the character we see now is more apologetic and has more remorse for the dead. He buries them. He even tries to do a prayer for them, but he can't remember it.
It was a great Easter egg for the fans of the book, seeing Sandor as the gravedigger...
What's an Easter egg again?
Essentially a wink and a nod to the fans, in this case to the theory that Clegane didn't die in the Riverlands, but was instead serving as a gravedigger on the Quiet Isle.
Yes, that's right. That was the general theory. I think it was definitely a nod, which is right. There was a rumor when the Hound went away that he would come back as that gravedigger. It was a wonderful moment.
Another great moment is when the Hound stares into the fire. It's the thing he fears the most, but the power of what he's seeing in the flames is more powerful than his fear. What do you remember about shooting the scene?
I remember it was bloody hot by that fire. (Laughs.) I was roasting over it. There was comedy there, for about two seconds before it was the Hound really seeing the truth, maybe seeing the future. Maybe he has powers. Maybe he does have a link to fire. It was a twelve hour day in that barn. I didn't even know at the time [how it would play]. I thought you would see something in the fire as well. I didn't realize you would just be watching the Hound's reaction. I was almost imagining that I was seeing television for the first time, and I can't believe I'm actually seeing moving pictures in a flame. That was what I was hanging onto: this surprised shock, and the "oh my god" of what's going on, and maybe being on the right path. Maybe I am part of this bigger thing.
I was also laughing about that scene before we enter the farm, when the Hound is taking the piss out of Thoros' top knot. That was absolutely hysterical. We don't see the scripts until quickly before we start shooting, and I hadn't seen Paul Kaye in quite a while. We met on set, and he was shaking his head going, "David and Dan, what a bunch of bastards!" In real life, he was wearing a top knot, and he was going slightly balding, and this ruined it for him! (Laughs.) Now he's shaved his hair off.
An unexpected casualty of this episode: Paul Kaye's top knot.
That's exactly right. He has a new look now. (Big laugh.) We ended up having a right laugh. We're all reasonably good musicians. After that scene, we actually formed a band: the Brotherhood Without Banjos.
Incredible. What did everyone play? Clearly no banjos.
Richard Dormer is fantastic on the ukulele. Paul Kaye is great on the guitar. We all sing.
When's the tour?
We're definitely going to do a couple of wrap parties at the end. It would be rude not to. But maybe we should go on tour. Possibly Game of Thrones the musical.
People really loved seeing the Brotherhood together, and the dynamic you have with both Richard and Paul's characters. It feels like there's an epic quality to the time these men are going to share together, however long it lasts. Does that sound right to you? Does this story take on an epic tone?
Absolutely. I can guarantee you that that's what's going to happen. I can guarantee you that. It's just going to go up, up and up. You can feel that something's brewing. They're not splitting up. They're obviously not the best at poems. But they're on a mission. They're all going together. I think the Hound will chill out... I think that's going to be the thing he's going to be thinking about for the next few episodes: pure survival in the fight against evil.
A lot of time has passed since the Hound last saw Arya. They have both changed greatly since then — or perhaps Arya has just gone even further in an already dark direction. How do you feel he'll react if he ever sees her again?
I think he would be slightly proud of her. He would probably tell her to calm things down a little bit, though. She's taking things too far! (Laughs.) He taught her a lot, I think. The fact that she's still alive, nevermind killing everybody? I think he would be proud of her.
Do you think the Hound sees a bit of himself and Arya when he looks at the farmer and his daughter?
Yeah. He could be thinking about that vulnerability. He's concluding, really, that he did the wrong thing. He's remorseful now.
As much as everyone wants to see the Hound and Arya together again, the main event everyone's hyped over is the Clegane Bowl. What's it going to take to get the Hound and the Mountain together again?
Hey, who says it hasn't happened already?
Hey, how about that!
(Ominous laugh.)
Can you at least say if you have met Thor, who plays the Mountain, in real life?
Oh, yeah. I've met him a couple of times. I'm in Iceland a lot. I have friends up there. I was just sailing with an Icelander for the last couple of weeks actually, who worked on the show. So I've met him a couple of times, out and about anyway, at gyms and stuff... which is quite funny, actually. I'll make sure no one is about, and then I'll go up to him and go: "Alright, man. You and me, brother. When's it going to happen?" But to be honest, we don't know. We don't know.
But you're hoping?
Hey, if it ever happens, my god that man is big. He has arms the size of my legs. (Laughs.) If the Clegane Bowl ever happens, I really better start training now.
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blankasolun · 5 years ago
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source: Metal Hammer 7th May 2020
How Dave Mustaine Took on Cancer and Won
By James Blaine (Metal Hammer) 21 hours ago
Megadeth mainman Dave Mustaine opens up exclusively about staring down cancer and what the future holds
The whole world is coming apart at the seams.
At least that’s the way it seems in Nashville, Tennessee this week. A T6 tornado tore the hell out of town just as the coronavirus hit the Volunteer State. Even President Trump is in Music City today, surveying the damage from Marine Helicopter One, hovering above us as we step into a dark, downtown studio to meet with local resident, Dave Mustaine.
The Apocalypse’s first and second horsemen take a back seat, at least for the moment. Right now, we’re more concerned about Dave’s dog. Oblivious to its diminutive size, the long-haired Chihuahua descends upon us like some high-pitched Hound of Hell, menacingly baring his teeth and threatening to devour our very soul if we step any closer to his master. 
“Easy, Romeo. Easy,” Dave says, reaching to save us from the snarling beast. We coil back, cautiously offering the back of our hand. Dave laughs gruffly. “Oh, no,” he says. “That doesn’t work with him.”
As the Megadeth frontman corrals his pup, it gives us a chance to check out the legend after his recent health crisis. Mass of fiery mane – intact. Black jacket, jeans, black t-shirt, white sneakers. Honestly? Well, he looks like Dave Mustaine, like the hellraiser still not sold on cheap or easy peace. He moves a bit slow, but not creakily – more like a man who’s fought the Devil bare-fisted and lived to tell the tale. 
With the hound at bay, he turns to greet us. It’s difficult to know what’s appropriate in this season of paranoia and mutant pandemic, especially for a man who’s just had his immune system nuked. Do we fist bump? Nod and touch elbows? “Nah, I ain’t worried, man,” Dave assures us, shaking hands with a vice grip. “I’m healthy now.” 
The backstory: March 2019. After being bounced from doctor to doctor, Dave gets an official diagnosis that sounds like some dystopian speed metal verse. Squamous cell carcinoma on the base of your tongue. 
  Hold up. Cancer? Mustaine? No way. 
    If anyone seemed indestructible, it was Dave Mustaine. Bad ass, bad attitude, snarling, spitting, raging, red-headed, black belt-carrying soldier in God’s Army, Godfather Of Thrash. That cancer could sink its claws into someone like Dave sent shockwaves through the metal community. Now, one year after the diagnosis, Metal Hammer comes to Music City to hear his testimony first-hand. Because Dave Mustaine kicked cancer’s ass. 
  “Yeah, I’m pretty stoked about that,” he says, grinning as he grabs a bottle of water and motions for us to have a seat in a private, black- walled dressing room. The obvious first question: So, how do you feel? “I’m a little run down, but a lot of that’s from the medication and all the stuff that goes along with treatment. They hit the cancer really hard, nine doses of chemo and 51 radiation treatments, which just beats the hell out of you. My mouth is still messed up but overall, I feel really good.”
  Dave settles in on the couch to tell us how he got the news that he was cancer-free. “I was here in Nashville, at my doctor’s office. He had to reach down the back of my throat, which was really unpleasant, but it was important for him to feel and make sure. And he said my progress was amazing, that both sides felt the same. I’ve got a metal plate in my neck that I figured might cause problems, but the doc told me, “Dave, you are in perfect health, 100%. You’re free to go.” 
  Dave pauses to slide a piece of Big Red gum into his mouth, twisting the foil between his fingers, reflecting before he continues. “It sounds bizarre, but I kind of knew. I took good care of myself. I’d done everything my doctors told me to do. I had tons of support from family and friends. And I had lots of prayer. I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I expected it. I had faith that I was going to be healed.”  
At this point, Dave rewinds to early 2019, explaining how he received the grim verdict. While out shredding with Joe Satriani and Zakk Wylde on the Experience Hendrix tour, severe mouth pain struck. “I’d gone in to get some dental work,” he says. “And after, it felt like the dentist had broken a piece of scraper off in my gums. I went back and he sent me to an oral surgeon who checked me out and said, ‘You need to see an ear, nose and throat doctor. I don’t want to say anything bad, but it looks like the Big C.’ Well, fuck, dude! Why’d you say that, then?” 
Dave shakes his head, still pissed, taking a long pull of water. “Anyway, I figured I’d take care of myself once the Hendrix tour was over. While out on the road, a friend of mine knew an ENT at the local emergency room. He came over, took a look, and said it wasn’t anything to worry about. But I knew something was wrong with me. It was just too far down for anybody to see.
“We had a day off and I was home in Nashville, so I saw a local specialist who suggested a scope. I don’t do good with scopes, so they had to knock me out to get the tube in. But yeah, they confirmed that it was cancer in the side of my throat that had spread to two lymph nodes.
  “Initially, they wanted to send me to MD Anderson in Houston for 11 weeks and I said no. fucking. way. I’m not gonna be away from my family for that long. So, they set me up at Vanderbilt, with Dr. Cmelak, who’s actually one of the best radiation oncologists in the country. I had a good team.”
  Fortunately for Mustaine, Music City is also the healthcare capital of the United States. The band cancelled tour dates and put the brakes on a new record so Dave could begin a brutal treatment regime, resting at his farm in the rolling hills of nearby Franklin between blasts of radiation and IV chemo drips. The worst, he says, is over.
  “I’ll have to do another MRI soon and check in with the doctor regularly, three years, five years. But the cool thing is, my voice came back even better than before. I think the treatment shrunk whatever was on my vocal cord that was making it hard to sing. I’d seen pictures of my voice box and there was some kind of bubble on the flap that was giving me trouble. Cyst, tumour, nodule, whatever the fuck it was. But that’s gone now, and they say long as I don’t do anything stupid, I should be good for the rest of my career. I know once you get cancer you’re never really out of the woods, but if the process doesn’t scare you into changing your lifestyle, then shame on you.”
Dave is no stranger to injuries and pain. He suffered career-threatening nerve damage to his left arm during a 2002 stint in a Texas rehab, and a decade later, underwent emergency surgery for spinal stenosis – whiplash, if you will – resulting in titanium implants in his neck. Flashing his trademark maniacal smile, Dave insists he felt no fear in the face of death.
  “I already died once,” he says, referencing his 1993 overdose on Valium. “I don’t remember anything, though. No light or tunnel or any of that shit. I respect death but I’m not living my life in fear. There was a little when I first found out that I had cancer, but it wasn’t so much about dying, as not being able to use my gift anymore, to play guitar or sing. That really shook me. To be inconvenienced is one thing. It’s something else to lose your gift.”
  Dave leans in. His steely glare, coupled with the white beard and wild hair, gives him the appearance of some Old Testament prophet of doom. “When they told me that my arm was 80% and I would never play guitar again, I thought, ‘You have no idea who you’re talking to. I will absolutely play again, and it’ll be a matter of days, not weeks.’ There’s a couple things I still can’t do, but I feel like I can play almost as good as I used to. Going through that thing with my arm was helpful. It gave me the courage to face any kind of medical problem I might have down the road. I’m going to do everything they say and if there’s blood, I can handle it. I’ve seen my own blood before.” 
  We ask about the darkest days, if his reputation causes people to expect an unrealistic level of strength. Dave fidgets with his shoelace. Ruffles the pup sweetly. Reaches for another piece of gum before the reply.
  “I think people do expect me to be invincible. It is a lot of pressure,” he admits. “But when you come out on the other side victorious, they cheer even louder. I like being a man of the people. That might sound corny, but it’s true. The hardest part was having to let others take care of me. I’ve always been so independent that even if I do need help, I’m not going to let anyone know. But overall, chemo wasn’t as ugly for me as it is for a lot of people. I had a couple of days where I got really sick and threw up, but that was it. I tried to be upbeat. When I would go in for treatment, I’d talk with the other patients, try to be encouraging.”
  The thrash titan was forced to miss the band’s inaugural MegaCruise in October, with his daughter, Electra, stepping in to represent the family. Upon completion of treatment, Dave was able to return for the Killing Road tour with Five Finger Death Punch in January. While on stage at the SSE Arena in Wembley, he announced that the cancer was in complete remission. 
  “Actually, I think I mentioned it from the first show of the tour,” says Dave. “If not Helsinki, then Stockholm for sure. I wanted the fans to know that I’m OK and how great the crew has been. And for sure, I want to tell the truth and let everyone know how much I prayed through this whole ordeal. Not just like, ‘Oh, yeah, thanks, God.’ But that I really, seriously prayed.”
Christian for nearly two decades, Dave has always been vocal about his beliefs. While discussing the role faith played in his recovery, he pauses, raking fingers through his beard, measuring his words.
“After growing up as a Jehovah’s Witness, there was a time that I hated the concept of anything that I had to answer to. The church disfellowshipped my sister, Debbie, and I was the only one who would sit and listen to her cry. It flipped me out and all I wanted to do was get back at the people who hurt my sister,” Dave explains. “But now, I try to keep my prayers pretty gentle. I don’t pray for anyone to get hurt or get what’s coming to them, only for God’s will and that he would help me do what I need to do. To me, prayer is just an open, honest, easy conversation like you’re talking to your dad. Essentially, that’s what God is supposed to be, our Father, right? So that makes it easy for me to engage in prayer.”
Asked to elaborate, Dave adds, “In the Bible, the Pharisees liked to pray in public so everybody could see them. They thought the louder they prayed, the more pious they would seem, like it’s an indication of their righteousness. For me, righteousness is something that’s exhibited through consistent behaviour that’s Godly in nature. You sum up the gospels with the Golden Rule. Helping others, no matter what. There’s this old song by the Circle Jerks called Wonderful.” 
  He sings the chorus of the 80s punk classic. Romeo perks up, cocking an ear in his master’s direction. “It’s a great song that talks about how it’s really not so hard to do something nice for someone else. Help a stranger. Smile. If you see a homeless person, give them something to eat. I was homeless once. It was the worst, man. Scrounging for food, living in [bassist] David Ellefson’s van…”  
  Dave apologises for losing his train of thought, blaming the lingering effects of “chemo brain”. After a break, he switches gears, discussing the positive changes that have come from his battle with the disease. “My wife and I are getting along tremendously, and things are really good with my son and daughter right now, too. I’ve got a better relationship with my band. The other day, Kiko [Loureiro, guitarist] says to me, ‘I really like this new Dave!’ What he was talking about, is when you’re dealing with pain, you drink, you smoke, you bitch, because you don’t know what’s going on. But soon as I found out what was wrong with me, I attacked it. Once I did, I could feel myself getting happier too.
Support also came from outside Dave’s immediate circle. His old band brother, James Hetfield, reached out, as did Kiss’s Paul Stanley and Ozzy, who was at war with his own medical demons in 2019.
“Everybody’s treatment is different, but Bruce Dickinson had been through throat cancer about five years ago, so he was able to give me a lot of insight into what to expect. His biggest advice was to listen to the doctors and don’t rush to get back onstage. They told him to hold off, but he went back out to perform and nothing came out. Well, OK. I get it. Bruce waited a month before his first show, so I held off a little longer. My last treatment was in September and I made plenty of time to rest, exercise and eat right before we went back out on tour. We did 22 dates overseas, and I feel great now, except for the fatigue. But I think a lot of that might be due to um, extracurricular activities. Staying up late. Not sleeping. Maybe a little, you know…” 
Thumb and forefinger to his lips, Dave inhales sharply, making the universal symbol for partaking of the herb. Could he be referring to the alleged medicinal benefits of CBD oil? “Don’t screw around with the oil, man,” he growls in the same gravel baritone as his crushing thrash classics. Our eyes go wide as the voice from sixth grade Headbangers Ball comes to life.
  Dave cackles at our reaction, pushing back a wayward strand of hair. “If you’re gonna do it, get the good stuff. I think the world is just now finding out the beauty of cannabis and everything it can do for you. I hear people talk how it’s good for cancer patients. C’mon, it’s good for any fucking patient! The radiation zapped my salivary glands so I couldn’t make spit, which made it really hard to swallow and get food down. They gave me this crazy mouthwash to use that had Benadryl and lidocaine in it, but I still couldn’t eat. So cannabis helped with that, except I got a terrible craving for kiddie cereal. I went to the store and got, like, 20 boxes.” 
  The thought of the Tornado Of Souls singer devouring countless bowls of cereal is a pretty cool picture and we can’t help but inquire about his favourite fix. “Trix with marshmallows. Froot Loops with marshmallows. Frosted Flakes. The kind with little marshmallows. You get the idea. My cancer team told me to try and watch the sugar intake, but they said, ‘Dave, if you can eat – then eat.’ The doctor threatened to put a feeding tube in my gut if I lost too much weight. Well, they scared the shit out of me with that one, but it worked.”
With Dave healthy and back onstage, the follow-up to 2016’s Grammy Award-winning Dystopia is on every Megafan’s brain. Late last year, Dave teased songs that were “heavy as hell” with titles such as Rattlehead, Part Two and The Dogs Of Chernobyl. 
  “I don’t know if any of those titles are still holding up,” he says, revealing that the band has been tracking at Nashville’s Sound Kitchen with co-producer Chris Rakestraw at the controls again. “Whenever I make a record, the names of the songs change so many times. I think we’ve got 14 songs for this album and another folder with six. The songs are constantly evolving and as they do, we change the title to be more reflective of what makes the song distinct.”
  So, will we see a new Megadeth album before 2020 ends? “I hope so, yeah,” says Dave. “We’ll start back in a couple of days and keep plowing until it’s done. Metal Tour Of The Year starts this summer, but that should be fun and easy [Editor’s note – we spoke to Dave before COVID-19 outbreak]. We’ve got a week’s vacation coming up soon and I’m going to go rest up and get ready to come back and make a brilliant record.”
  Nashville traffic is anarchy these days and Romeo looks like he needs to hike his leg. As the sun sets over the Cumberland River, Dave stands and slides an arm around our shoulder, recruiting Metal Hammer to thank the fans for all their thoughts and prayers. It strikes us, how we expect legends to be carved from granite. On one hand, we understand that our heroes are human. But on the other, we never want to see them frail, or sick, or down. And that must be a hell of a burden sometimes. But perhaps, it’s also what keeps them moving. If our heroes can keep pushing, then that gives us the courage to keep pushing too, through all the shitstorms of life, disasters both natural and manufactured, even the ones we bring upon ourselves. Decades later, they still inspire perseverance, hope, and the determination to never let the bastards grind you down. Maybe even a little 21st century metal up your ass. 
  Still, we have to ask one last thing. Dave’s been on the road almost 40 years. Dues paid; the mark has been made. Was he ever tempted to call it a day, sit back on the farm and enjoy a slow, simple life? 
  “Yeah, I guess I could do that,” he admits, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “But I love what I do, and I like helping the band and crew make money. Playing music makes people happy. A lot of times while we’re out there, they share stuff with us, some good, some bad, but we get to bring our own little brand of panacea to people and somehow, that makes them feel beautiful. Even if it’s for just one night.” 
Published in Metal Hammer #334
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Dave Mustaine Talks About His Fight With Cancer source: Metal Hammer 7th May 2020 How Dave Mustaine Took on Cancer and Won By James Blaine…
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