The Canadian punk rock icon talks about overcoming his heroin addiction, finding a work ethic in acting, and how Toronto bands have a bad attitude.

No one, perhaps ever, has been able to flick a cigarette with the accuracy of Hugh Dillon. What separated him from all of the other butt flingers of the world is that Dillon did his share from stage, which he commanded as the frontman for Canadian hard rock heroes Headstones. “The cigarette flicking was early, early on. It just became a lifestyle,” Dillon says with nonchalance. “I didn’t give a shit. Lots of bands smoked and drank on stage like we did. And with flicking, I had a pretty good aim. So it’s not like I randomly flicked it. I could do it the way ninjas throw those stars. I could hit things with them, so it became a trick. And I could hit someone in the forehead or in the body so that I didn’t hurt them [laughs].”

Dillon invited Noisey to chat in the East Toronto studio where Headstones recorded and mixed their seventh full-length, Little Army. It’s tough not to bring up the band’s glory days in the 1990s though, when Headstones were the bad boys of CanRock. They stuck out like a gnarly, dislocated thumb, thanks to their hard living ways and Dillon’s biting, misanthropic persona. A lot of their peers viewed them as “obnoxious, loutish and generally annoying.”

Of course, being loutish and obnoxious was part of the band’s allure for the fans. Dillon feels that at its core, “the band has always been exciting and fun, and that’s what draws people back.” But yeah, they knew how to rub other bands the wrong way. “It’s true. Except for the Hip,” Dillon says of his fellow Kingstonians. “I grew up with those guys and they were sweethearts. But Toronto bands were notorious for having an attitude. I could name names but it’s too fucking late for that. I loved music, so whenever somebody tried to stand in my way I looked at it as, ‘That’s not gonna stop me. I’ll just go around it.’ And people don’t like that. We were a different kind of band. You can’t abide by other people’s faux civility. I don’t want to fucking dance around. I hate the passive-aggressive game. I just wanna be honest and people have a problem with that.”

Headstones formed in Kingston, Ontario in 1987, after Dillon spent some time in London, England busking, squatting and living life as a true gutter punk. Although they worked odd jobs to pay the bills as well as demos and other band expenses, the band was originally an outlet for what Dillon calls “fucking rage and energy.”

“I’m from Kingston and I likely would have gone to jail without this band,” he explains. “I was interested in three things: crime, hockey, and rock’n’roll. Thank God rock’n’roll prevailed. It was such a fucking godsend. I had the chops to write and do what I needed to do.” The band moved to Toronto not long after and began building a name for themselves playing local venues like Lee’s Palace, Sneaky Dee’s and the Ultrasound, where they were offered a record deal by major MCA.

“We wrote these songs and knew they were good. We also knew that the other bands in Toronto didn’t like us, and we didn’t give a fuck,” he says. “We were all fucking blue collar guys and Friday nights had become renting a space, getting a two-four and writing songs and getting drunk. That was the way out for us. Nothing glamorous. It was just a necessity. As opposed to talking about it and not doing it, we focused on writing and were driven to do it. We did it like motherfuckers. We were bizarrely focused.”

Headstones filled a hole in Canada’s fertile alternative rock harvest, infusing their gritty hard rock with a punkish attitude and nihilistic lyrics, heard on albums like 1993’s Picture of Health and the following Teeth and Tissue. Unlike some of their contemporaries, Dillon feels Headstones had to work even harder to create buzz. “We didn’t get a lot of video play or radio play in the beginning,” he says. “It was our live show that made us. We were on the road constantly and eventually we got some love from MuchMusic, but we were never overplayed. I think it’s hard for any artist to cut through the apathy and the noise out there, no matter any time or decade. The secret to any success is talent and perseverance. You might not be successful commercially or critically but you will create the art you want to. When it’s all said and done that’s what matters most.”

Their debut album, Picture of Health, went platinum, and was followed up by a couple of gold records— Teeth and Tissue and 1997’s Smile and Wave, respectively. However, with this success came an appetite for self-destruction. “We had to really work for it,” he says, “but the alcoholic and drug addict tendencies tend to go through the roof once you’re allowed free rein. So that didn’t help. It gets in the way of what you really wanna do, which is write and record songs.”

By the time Headstones released their fifth album, The Oracle Of Hi-Fi, Dillon was using heroin again after getting clean in 2000. Although he was an occasional user throughout his time in the band, his addiction began spiralling out of control. Fearing things wouldn’t get better on the road, he ended Headstones and headed to Northern Ontario, where he took a job as a lumberjack in a bid to get clean, which is what he’s been doing for the last 14 years.

“There was no way out. I lost everything,” he says stonefaced. “I was in detoxes and rehabs. It was just so brutal. There is a romantic component to rock’n’roll, but if I was still loading trucks at Canpar and had a drug addiction that would be tragic, whereas if you’re in a rock band it can seem glamorous. And it isn’t, because your family suffers horribly. It was so hard for my family. I think that’s the big takeaway from this story. If you can recognize the pain you’re inflicting on others you have a chance to get out, if you’re willing to accept help. If you’re gonna change your habits or your life you’re kidding yourself if you think you can just dabble in anything.”

Up until 2003, Dillon had also been dabbling in acting. But once he cleaned up, that became his primary vocation. (A side-project called the Hugh Dillon Redemption Choir did produce an album in 2005.) During the Headstones’ original run, Dillon had scored roles in a handful of independent films, as well as TV guest appearances, including Degrassi: The Next Generation , for which he portrayed an abusive father. “I do get recognized for it,” he says. “I remember going to see a movie and the ticket girl lost her shit. I knew she couldn’t be a Headstones fan, and it turned out she just loved Degrassi.”

He was cast in films—both indies (i.e. Down To The Bone) and big budget films ( Assault On Precinct 13) but it was the lead role in Canadian drama Durham County as a homicide detective struggling to face his demons that was his breakout. This led to roles in AMC’s The Killing, CBC’s X Company, and most notably, a lead in CTV’s internationally syndicated cop drama, Flashpoint, which he compares to “winning the Stanley Cup or Super Bowl.”

Most recently Dillon can be seen in an episode of the newly revived Twin Peaks. It’s not a major role in terms of the storyline, but it no doubt left a huge impression on him. “It was awesome,” he says with glee. “I can’t tell you much, but I’m in a single episode. It’s so minor. But finally to be on set with a master like David Lynch was such a beautiful fucking experience. To have David Lynch put the make up on you himself is just surreal. It all just lasted for a second, but it was such a career high. I got to work with a guy who was one of the reasons why I’m an actor. What a great experience.”

Ask any long-time fan of Headstones though, and Dillon’s greatest piece of acting was in Bruce McDonald’s 1996 mockumentary, Hard Core Logo. After portraying a killer in the director’s 1994 film, Dance Me Outside, McDonald cast Dillon as Joe Dick, the loudmouthed vocalist of the titular has-been punk band. The film became an instant cult classic, inspiring Canadian rockers Pez to eventually change their name to Billy Talent, and impressing Quentin Tarantino so much he bought the rights to distribute it in the U.S. and even auditioned Dillon for the role in Jackie Brown (it eventually went to Michael Keaton.)

“I love it. That film changed my life,” he says with adoration in his voice. “It showed me a new direction I could take. And I did it totally clean. I signed a deal with Bruce to stay clean. They allowed me to sing and they used my ideas. I wrote the ending and got involved. So the least I could do was sign a deal that said I wouldn’t drink or do drugs on the shoot. That was the best deal I ever made because I got a glimpse of what it was like to work completely clean and sober.”

Dillon feels the experience he’s gained from acting has also impacted his work as a musician. “The thing I got from acting that I applied to the band is my fucking work ethic,” he exclaims. “Because when I came back to the Headstones, after doing some acting, it was much easier. I wanted to rehearse, I wanted to be prepared, and I wanted to be organized.”

When Headstones reunited in 2011 it wasn’t some nostalgia trip. Dillon doesn’t do nostalgia when it comes to his band. “Fuck no. Life’s too good now,” he admits. Instead, it was the death of the band’s lifelong friend and influencer Randy Kwan that got them back together. Before they knew it, they’d written and recorded a new album, 2013’s Love + Fury and come full circle.

“I didn’t come back to the band for any other reason but to be creative,” Dillon says.
“I rebuilt my life and moved to California and got into acting. I learned to refocus. I was very lucky. And I was lucky that Trent and Tim were such killer creative forces that going back to rock’n’roll became better. You learn things from working with people like that.”

With a new label Cadence Music Group behind them, Headstones find themselves in a perfect position at this stage in their life. Despite reaching his 50s and finding stability in a dual career, Dillon doesn’t seem to have lost his edge as a songwriter and vocalist. Little Army still retains that piss and vinegar Headstones built their reputation on, but it also sounds as if they’re doing it more out of love than anything.

“We get to make these records and hang out and when we play there is a magic to it,” Dillon says. “I think each record we’ve gotten better and better and it’s because we don’t give a fuck. We don’t have to do it.”



From leading a rock ‘n’ roll band to acting, and now back in music, Hugh Dillon’s career has been a roller-coaster ride filled with exciting ups and downs. When Dillon’s not busy starring in CBC’s TV series X Company, he’s busy recording with his old band, the Headstones. Today, they release their latest record, Little Army. Dillon joins guest host Gill Deacon to discuss his return to music and balancing that and acting now.

Friday June 02, 2017; hosted by Gill Deacon.




Hugh Dillon doesn’t pay attention to that old saying: Keep your day job.

The frontman of Canadian punk/hard rock outfit Headstones for the last three decades – minus a 10-year group hiatus that began in 2003 – has also forged a successful acting career in films like Hardcore Logo and TV series’like Durham County and Flashpoint. So why does the 53-yearold, who’s been sober for “about 13 years” after well-documented struggles with heroin and booze, continue to make music? “What makes me really tick is the cathartic nature of being able to write because those are my words,” said Dillon – who last year alone shot the films The Humanity Bureau with Nicholas Cage in Osoyoos, B.C., and Wind River with noted screenwriter Taylor Sheridan (Hell or Highwater, Sicario). “Everything else is somebody has written what I’m saying. I do like rock n’roll for that because it is your own vision, it is your own voice, it is your own self-expression.”

The Kingston-formed, Toronto-based Headstones latest disc, Little Army, arrives Friday (June 2) with two shows that night at T.O’s Velvet Underground before a fall tour.

We caught up with Dillon, who’s also got two TV projects in development – one with Sheridan in the U.S. and one in Canada – in T.O. recently.


“I loved his voice, but I really loved the songwriting. That’s what it all comes down to is the songs [like] Jesus Christ Pose. There are certain songs that when I hear them, it’s a time and a place that was defining. My mental visual is sitting behind the driver in a s–y van with the radio stations in Canada and [Soundgarden] would come on and that was the soundtrack of us driving across this country. It was them and Nirvana and The Tragically Hip … nothing else mattered.”


“So much of it, with our history, is linked to alcohol and drugs and underneath that is depression and whatever else is there. What you’re always trying to do is be honest and be upfront. And what’s great about our relationship as a band, we’ve known each other so long, you can see any little warning signs so it helps all of us. I do know enough that you have to be vigilant, you have to know yourself because if you slip in that downward spiral of isolating yourself … you can isolate to a place where it seems to be pointless. And it isn’t. I mean I’ve been there.” SOBRIETY “I played all the, ‘Let me see if this combination works. If I just have half a Valium and one shot of whisky, yeah good.’And it comes back to the concept of fooling yourself. You’ve got to know yourself. You can’t fool yourself. I have done it so much. And that’s what our band is like because we know each other so well. Any misstep or anything that’s bulls–, everyone is lasered on it. And so it kind of makes you accountable. Because it isn’t just you, your actions affect everybody. And if you want to f–ing be part of [a band] – be honest.”


“[Nic] was just an awesome professional. You know I like working hard and it’s just you have to be on your game. He had such a grounded, hard work ethic and for me that guy’s been married to Elvis’daughter [Lisa Marie Presley], his uncle is Francis Ford Coppola, he was in [the 1983 film] Rumble Fish, and yet it’s all about the work. And I like it to be about the work … It’s gratifying to see somebody through life’s maze bulls–is on the ground bringing his A game.”


“My grandfather’s a writer. It’s storytelling. I’m Irish. It runs in the blood. I’m black Irish so I’ve got to deal with the temper and the nonsense. You’ve got to know yourself. You’ve got to not let your thoughts take you into some dark alley. It’s like being able to put it somewhere. And even when I didn’t have the band [during the hiatus] and I was trying to find my way and doing Flashpoint, I had a solo band, I was always write. It stops me from acting in ways that I used to act. That’s why I love writing because it calms you and it puts everything down on paper.”


“I ran some of the lyrics by Gord Downie, we go back so far to us being 17 and in high school together [in Kingston]. We just loved music. We talked about [Bob] Dylan and Jim Morrison and it was all about writers and songwriters. We were friends. There was such a musicality about that period of time – about two years. And in this bar that I referrence [in the song], the Prince George, e, we would go down there. And Gord and I loved music and it was Dillon and Downie, we were in a lot of the same classes. We were in a dramatic arts class together, we were in home room. All of it goes back to him. It’s not just the singer and The Tragically Hip, and this band that I love. It goes back to I would not be here, literally, without him.”


“I feel that guy’s going to live forever. I can say that. It’s like I want to think positively every day and every moment like, ‘You f–ing kidding me, I just saw him with Bobby Orr.’ ‘It was a hockey game and I think it was the Senators against Boston. I know it’s naive but I feel he’ll live forever.”


“I thought for sure we were going to buy it in some ridiculously stupid way. It was so lawless. It is weird. It is the chemistry. It is the writing. It is the ability to recognize each other so honestly. It’s like [guitarist] Trent [Carr] and [bassist] Tim White have been friends since 1972, lately it’s a big numbers game. [Trent's brother] Steve [Carr] has been in the band as well but nobody talks about it – he’s on the cover of the new record – he plays keys, he’s been our road manager, so this record he’s on the cover and in the promo shots.”

By , Postmedia Network / Posted:


From the multi-award winning creators of the hit series Flashpoint, Mark Ellis & Stephanie Morgenstern, CBC and Temple Street Productions (Orphan Black) announce the start of production on the highly-anticipated original series CAMP X, shooting on location in Budapest, Hungary until the end of the October. The eight-episode, one-hour series is set to air in early 2015.

CAMP X is an emotionally driven adventure drama, set in the thrilling and dangerous world of WWII espionage and covert operations. It follows the stories of a team of highly skilled young recruits – Canadian, American and British – torn from their ordinary lives to train as agents in an ultra-secret facility on the shores of Lake Ontario. Inspired by remarkable true stories, CAMP X is about the origin of spycraft.

¬†Teaming up again with Ellis & Morgenstern is Hugh Dillon (Flashpoint, The Killing).The series’ international ensemble cast also includes Evelyne Brochu (Orphan Black, Pawn Sacrifice); Jack Laskey (Endeavour, Hatfields and McCoys); Warren Brown (Luther, By Any Means); Dustin Milligan (Demonic, 90210); Connor Price (Being Human, Carrie); Lara Jean Chorostecki (Hannibal, Copper); and special guest Francois Arnaud (The Borgias).

¬†”CAMP X is a story we’ve been burning to tell for a long time. ¬†It’s incredibly powerful to see it take shape in the hands of so many talented people,” say creators Ellis and Morgenstern.

See the full press release here.

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Thank you to all of our fans that brought Love + Fury to life through PledgeMusic. But, in case you were wondering, we are not done yet!

Because of the experience that YOU gave US, we would like to do this all again.

strong>Help us make another album – click this link to get involved!


Hugh, Trent, Tim, Dale.

Hugh wins the 2014 Canadian Screen Awards, Shaw Media Award for Best Performance by an Actor in a Continuing Leading Dramatic Role, for his role in FLASHPOINT.
View the full list of 2014 CSA winners here.

Hugh Dillon


Hugh Dillon was in Toronto from his home in Los Angeles earlier this summer to talk about Love + Fury, a new album from the Headstones after the punk-hard-rock band re-united 11 years after calling it quits.

But the 50-year-old singer-songwriter wasn’t able to contain the discussion to the subject of his music or his successful acting career (The Killing, Durham County) boosted by the five-year run of CTV’s police drama, Flashpoint. This was a conversation that could have been called Darkness + Pain = Redemption + Light. And the lessons he wants to impart can be explained in this equation: Patience + Kindness + Generosity = Possibility + Hope.

The simplicity of the math belies the complexity of the journey, though, which roils behind his eyes, ready to be channelled into an intense, on-screen character. What it required – the conversation, that is – was the forbearance of his publicist, who sat in an adjacent booth, and several times raised a hand of warning for him to stop, which Dillon gleefully ignored. He flirted with his past as a boy with a crush, recounting the worst bits off-the-record like deliciously sordid sex scenes, all of them delivered in whispered confession between bites of expensive salad.

“Darkness and existential angst,” he explains at one point, holding his fork in mid-air, when asked about his troubled youth spent in Kingston, Ont., the youngest in a family of three children. He was restless and malcontent, rebelling against his conservative upbringing with a mother who was a teacher and a father who worked for a large multinational.

“I had a great acting teacher in high school. But I didn’t like acting because it took too many people to get the job done.” At this observation comes a snort of laughter before he continues: “You have to talk to too many people and listen to others’ opinions. With music, you get a few friends together and just make it.” His parents sent him off to Ashbury, a private boys’ school in Ottawa to try to discipline him.

Did that work? “Are you kidding?” he replies with boyish impishness. He finished high school and set off for Queens University, where he lasted a year. “I took sociology, history and the study of drugs,” he deadpans with a devilish smile. He almost landed in jail. His parents were frightened, so his mother sent him packing: he wasn’t allowed to come back to Kingston for five years. She gave him a passport and $1,000. Off he went to London, England, where he lived in a squat and busked on the street, performing his own songs. When he returned to Canada a year later, he faced two truths. He knew he could make music, but he couldn’t afford to. His parents refused to help him unless he returned to university. He lived in a cheap Toronto apartment and worked in factories stacking boxes and later, for five years, as an orderly at the Hospital for Sick Kids. Finally, he saved enough money to record a demo tape, which led to a record deal.

“You’re young, you like to drink beer, smoke a little pot, you get a record deal and incrementally three or four years into it, you drink too much, your nerves were shot, so you take Valium. It kind of slows you down a bit, and then you’re like, ‘Hey, what does heroin do? Cool!’ And you think you’re the smartest guy in the room. You drink all night, take a little heroin, which takes the edge off, and you have all these people expecting to see you perform, so it works. Heroin prolongs your drinking until it gets you, too.” That little passage was delivered as melodically, as seamlessly, as the lyrics of a song he has performed a thousand times.

But then he throws his shiny bald head back and booms with laughter. The romance with his addiction was going to end with something worse than a STD. “Oh, I would have died!” he points out with unexpected enthusiasm. Here’s another bit of math: 20 detox attempts + 5 rehab stints = 0. “I had to turn my back on [the band],” he says, explaining that each time he went on tour, he would relapse.

“I went up north and was cutting trees down. It wasn’t romantic and cool. It was $4.10 an hour and I was 40.” A voice-over job for a Chrysler came along. Then, an award-winning movie, Down to the Bone. (He had been given his first acting opportunity by Bruce MacDonald in 1994 in Dance Me Outside.) He wouldn’t have spearheaded a reunion of The Headstones if it weren’t for an out-of-the-blue phone call from Randy Kwan, a friend from high school who had co-written some of his early songs. They had gone separate ways. But Kwan called to tell him two things: he was husband and father, and he was dying from cancer. (He died six months later.) Dillon offered to help by getting the band back together to play a few gigs. “And because we spent so much together, we wrote a song, BinThisWayForYears.” They decided to fund an album through pledges from their fans. (Universal later distributed it.) “It was great because we were not interested in doing it for vanity.”

He has been clean and sober for eight years, a period his parents, now in their 80s, have been able to witness. “I am confident in who I am,” he states. And of course, there’s his wife of 25 years, Midori Fujiwara. “I’m here because of her. She didn’t give up on me when everyone else did and I had given up on myself.”

And there’s another woman he credits: Anne Marie La Traverse, the executive producer of Flashpoint, who gave him his breakout role of Ed Lane. “What it comes down to, from that Flashpoint experience, is a kindness and generosity and a work ethic that I have taken away with me.”

No more struggles with meaninglessness?

“Check it out!” he exclaims. “I have a car waiting for me. My wife is waiting for me. I’m going to Muskoka. I’m talking to The Globe and Mail. I’m connecting to people. And I’m at a restaurant ordering salad! I love it!”

It’s about what you add up, and what you choose to subtract. “Life is too short to spend in negativity,” he says. “So I have made a conscious effort to not be where I don’t want to be.”

The Globe and Mail


Actor, rocker, and front man of The Headstones, Hugh Dillon, stopped by Studio Q to chat about his band’s new record Love + Fury. It’s their first album in 11 years, and Dillon says time and tragedy have turned the musicians into a different kind of band.

The younger version of himself would sooner spit into the crowd than rehearse for a show, but he now says that Dillon can “eat it.”

“This band could beat the hell out of that band, because the raw talent was there but not the work ethic,” he said.

But this reunion album, which was sparked by a death close to the band, is no cash cow. Take a listen to the interview to hear that story and how the album became the band’s first ever top ten record.

Click HERE to listen to the interview


“This guy’s a time bomb and you’re about to see what lights the fuse,” Dillon tells THR of prison guard Francis Becker’s breakdown.


The Killing continues to head into deeper, darker territory.

With Stephen Holder (Joel Kinnaman) and Sarah Linden (Mireille Enos) on the road to solving the season’s mystery of the dangerous serial killer targeting street kids, another story line is just as significant. Death row prison guard Francis Becker (Hugh Dillon) finds himself in “a dark duet” with imprisoned inmate Ray Seward (Peter Sarsgaard), behind bars for allegedly murdering his wife years prior.

STORY: ‘The Killing': Peter Sarsgaard on the Rosie Larsen Case, ‘Contrived’ Endings and Season 3

For Canadian actor Dillon, who appeared on Continuum and starred in Flashpoint, Becker is “giving a master class in dysfunction to tell you the truth,” he tells The Hollywood Reporter. “He’s a product of his environment. He’s emotionally bankrupt. He’s struggling to keep some semblance of humanity.” He likens The Killing to “a poisonous flower: the more it unfolds, the more you’re in it and the more deadly it gets.”

Filming the scenes between Becker and Ray “couldn’t be better,” with the actor recalling a time when Jonathan Demme (The Silence of the Lambs, Rachel Getting Married) was directing he and Sarsgaard ‚Äî an actor Dillon admires. “This isn’t network television. It’s elaborate and so beautifully written and the kind of thing that as an actor you’re waiting to do and hoping you get to do these kind of roles,” Dillon says. “I look for parts and roles on film and shows I’m interested in that are exciting to be a part and this was that.”

Dillon characterizes the Becker-Ray dynamic as remarkably tense. “It’s a dark duel. It’s the antagonist’s antagonist. It’s the bad guy to the bad guy, who’s cloaked as an authority figure,” he says. “[The writing] instilled that kind of tension in the words and the characters.”

STORY: How ‘The Killing’ Came Back to Life

Becker heads into “very dark” places, but Dillon reassures that hints of who this guy is have been inserted along the way. “As the [season] goes on, you see what the psychological baggage he carries with him is and that is his family,” he says. “He is the dark lord in the prison. He is the master of that domain. That’s why he has such a problem with Seward. His home life is, for a guy like that, so dysfunctional, it’s killing him.”

Acting primarily in a stale, static environment such as a prison wasn’t as challenging for Dillon as one might think ‚Äî though he “tended not to” look to past prison documentaries or films in preparation for the role. Having grown up in a town with five penitentiaries, Dillon was “aware of that environment,” instead speaking to correctional officers for research. “Shooting in such a dark, depressing place just helps you in every regard when you’re acting because going on to that set,” he says, “it’s a character in and of itself.”

In a show like The Killing, where every one is a suspect in the season-long mystery, Dillon knows that the light is also being shined on Becker. “There are a few episodes coming up where you go, ‘He’s the guy,’ ” he says.

The seventh episode of the season, “Hope Kills,” “really reveals Becker’s underbelly in terms of his home life and what makes him tick. This guy’s a time bomb and you’re about to see what lights the fuse,” Dillon says. “Ray’s a master manipulator. He chips at Becker to make him comfortable and react.”

How different of a place does Becker end up in at the end of the season? “It’s night and day,” Dillon says. “It comes down to the effect that this kind of job and this kind of lifestyle [has] ‚Äî it’s almost like post-traumatic stress. It affects every element of this guy’s personality, of his emotional life, of his humanity ‚Äî right down to his son and his wife. The end is a beautifully-written piece because it really shows the reverberations of crime and punishment on an individual.”

The Killing airs 9 p.m. Sundays on AMC.

Twitter: @insidethetube

The Hollywood Reporter

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