The director for my final [Game of Thrones] episode is Jack Bender. As soon as I find out, I Google him. We’ve not met, but I try to second-guess how he’ll work. If this is to be an epic scene, I need to get it spot-on. His past accolades tell me what I need to know: He’s an old hand, a longtime director on the 1980s hit TV series Falcon Crest. The Sopranos is also in his back catalog. My hope is that he’ll draw out the best in me.
When our first day of filming rolls around, Helen [Hempstead Wright, Isaac's mother] greets me with a warm hug.
“Great to see you, Kristian!” she says. But I also sense her hesitation. Neither of us want to acknowledge that our time together is drawing to a close.
“Kristian!” Isaac also rushes up to say hello, but I notice that he doesn’t run to hug me. Immediately, sadness surges through me. I haven’t seen him for months, but what’s obvious is just how much Isaac has grown. He’s 15 now. Fifteen! He’s also nearly 6 foot tall. My rational brain kicks in. Would I have wanted to bear-hug anyone at that age? Categorically no. But it’s also weird to think of our first day together when Isaac used me as a human climbing frame and smashed my iPhone in the Paint Hall. What a journey we’ve been on since then …
“I still can’t believe the script!” Isaac tells me.
“It’s going to be really tough,” I gulp. Already I can feel the emotion rising.
How I’m going to survive the next few days will be anyone’s guess.
“Hey, Kristian,” Jack greets me with a firm handshake when we finally meet. He has small, round glasses, a shaggy-dog demeanor, and a beard to rival my own. Since season 4 I’ve been rocking the Methuselah look. And whenever I glance in the mirror, I laugh. There’s been so much to-ing and fro-ing over my facial hair over the years. First David [Benioff] and [D.B. Weiss] wanted Hodor with a beard, but then reckoned I looked too much like a college professor. Now that I’ve been living in a cave for a year eating moss while Bran hones his powers and the White Walkers edge closer, I’ve unleashed the beast and let my hair and beard run free. That, too, feels liberating.
“Great to meet you,” I say to Jack before we launch into work.
Before we begin our first run-through there’s one thing I’m concerned about. “Will I meet Sam?” I ask. As Sam is going to be playing me as a young boy, we are going to have to follow each other’s movements in certain scenes while Bran is warging, so I feel I should meet him face-to-face.
“Sorry, Kristian,” Jack grimaces. Because of the schedule, Sam’s scenes had to be filmed several days ago, but Jack does have a set of outtakes to show me on his iPhone, so that I can get a feel for what’s needed. The challenge, he explains, is that he’s going to have to match up our performances later, so they’ll need to be as exact as we can get them.
The exterior of the cave of the Three-Eyed Raven is constructed in a quarry near Ballymena, Northern Ireland—an almost perfect bowl-shaped hollow now filled with scenery, tents, and cabins. The cave’s interior and its various tunnels have been constructed at the studio in Banbridge, and it’s there where we’ll spend the majority of our time. The walls have been covered in moss and the floor strewn with real animal bones. On our first day, we’re also joined by the 85-year-old actor Max von Sydow who plays the Three-Eyed Raven—one of the old guard of actors I love to watch so much. Physically, Max seems more frail than even Margaret John had been, and I worry about him sat for hours in the cold. But just like Margaret did, he can snap into character like an old pro.
Since I’ve returned to the series, this is the first scene where Hodor has to interact. Meera will talk with him about the food she’s been dreaming of when they reach home. The mention of home and sausages lights up Hodor’s face.
It’s supposed to be a lovely, lighthearted moment before all hell breaks loose and the undead descend on us, but I just can’t relax. In fact, I feel suffocated by the enormity of everything that’s expected of me. Jesus fucking Christ, Kristian. You need to be on your A game, I tell myself, but I’m agitated, so much so that Jack notices I’m struggling.
“Are you OK?” he asks after a few takes, which I’ve barely managed to get through. “Are you having difficulty?”
“Yes, it’s awful,” the words tumble from me. Hodor’s subtle tics used to come easily to me, but now I’m tying myself in knots trying to express them. I explain to Jack the mad journey I’ve been on for the past year, and the personal journey I’ve been on, too. I’m finding stepping back into inhabiting someone other than myself very hard. Then I stop. Did I just say all of that … to a director I don’t know? I think. Years ago, I would have kept silent, like when my back was breaking in the Great Hall. I stop talking and watch Jack’s eyes carefully. Is he going to understand? Help me work this out? Or dismiss me and move on?
“OK, just take it easy,” he smiles.
“I’ll be fine, but everyone might need to be a bit patient,” I say quickly. Jack gives me a shoulder squeeze.
“Just relax. It will all come flooding back,” he reassures me.
Jack is right, just like John Ruskin had been years ago. And after a while, I do start to remember: Do not overthink Hodor; do not overthink your performance. As the morning wears on, Hodor reappears like an old friend.
[My stunt double] Brian is also worth his weight in gold. As soon as the magical shield keeping us safe in the cave vanishes and the wights and White Walkers come for Bran, we need to hotfoot it out. This means take after take of me pulling Isaac on the sled, which is attached on runners to the tunnel floor. Thankfully, Brian will take the reins on many of these shots—the shots where my face is not in view. My back hasn’t yet completely recovered, and this also gives me the chance to concentrate on what’s ahead. Besides, Isaac has gotten even heavier in the intervening years.
At the far end of the tunnel is the door Hodor must push to reach the outside world. But it’s jammed and I’ll need to use all my strength to push it. Seconds of action will take the best part of a day to film. At first, I test the door. While much of the cave and its tunnels have been constructed in a thinner balsa-type wood, so that our enemies can crash through it, this door feels as heavy as solid oak.
“Really push your weight against it,” Jack stresses in the run-through. I need to give the impression that there’s snow and fallen branches on the other side, jamming it. For the first take, Brian and an assistant director will stand behind the door, pressing their weight against it so it’s harder to budge.
“Sound … action … and go,” Jack shouts.
I fling my shoulder against it, but surprisingly it opens almost immediately, as if I’ve casually strolled through.
“And … cut,” I hear.
“OK, we’re going to need more weight,” Jack shouts, summoning one more crew member to join Brian and the assistant director. But it’s still not enough. After every take, the snow machine also has to be fired up and fake snow blown in so that when the door is ajar the storm outside looks as though it’s raging. Today, there’s a lot of hanging around.
“It still looks too easy,” Jack concludes on the fifth take. One more person is enlisted, then another. By now I’ve lost feeling in my shoulder and the sweat is pouring down my tunic, but I don’t care. I have to get this right.
“Sound … action … and go,” Jack shouts again.
“Ahhhhh,” I cry out as I fling myself once more against the solid wood. I push hard, really hard. Hard again. Then, I feel something shift. I hold still and keep pushing. Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Out of the corner of my eye I see an assistant director waving her hands and mouthing “Stop.”
“OK … cut. Cut! Cut! Cut!” Jack hollers in rapid fire.
And then I realize. I haven’t shifted the door at all. I’ve brought the entire fucking tunnel along with me. Even the sled runners have been dislodged. I look around sheepishly. God, I’m so embarrassed.
“Sorry, everyone.” I shrug. I know the crew must be cursing me. It will take at least an hour to fix the damage and redress the set. Eventually on the final take of that day we number eight people behind the door to act as the perfect counterweight.
Excerpted from Beyond the Throne: Epic Journeys, Enduring Friendships, and Surprising Tales by Kristian Nairn. Copyright © 2024. Available from Hachette Books, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
