Sigourney Weaver set cinema screens alight 46 years ago as Alien’s warrant officer Ripley: Jonesy the (“little shithead”) cat in one hand, a flamethrower in the other. An exquisite visual summation of this new, radical female sci-fi action character, and the soon-to-be-star playing her. A six-foot, New York born-and- bred, Off-Broadway actor who, it was opined, would never make it in Hollywood. And, well, if you measure her career against some traditional models for 1970s actresses — roles as the plain, platonic pal, or the hankie-holding girlfriend — Sigourney Weaver didn’t. Instead, she remade it.
Already known in theatre circles pre-Alien for her bold and bonkers characters, she had started as she meant to go on. And while a taste for the anti-clichéd may have been at least partly borne of necessity, it stuck on the tongue through choice. Today, then, at the age of 75, it should be deeply unsurprising that she’s mostly preoccupied with playing a teenage sapient humanoid who lives on an extraterrestrial moon. But Avatar is far more than just a flex of those ‘you didn’t expect that’ muscles. It’s the continuation of a collaboration with writer- director (“now friend”) James Cameron. One that began in the heat of her early career, producing the highlight of her first franchise (Aliens), and still sees her tearing up new ground in her third (after Ghostbusters).
And if you think, deep into her septuagenarian era — with more Avatar movies and a fourth blockbuster franchise incoming — that Sigourney Weaver is even remotely done torching our screens, then, well, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.
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EMPIRE: At the Toronto International Film Festival, you called Fire And Ash “timely”. There’s a definite tonal shift — what’s changed since The Way Of Water?
SIGOURNEY WEAVER: It’s a very different moment for the family, having lost the eldest son, Neteyam, and still not having a real home, and fighting for their country. There’s a lot more upheaval and unexpected new elements, like the Ash People, who are so completely opposite to the Na’vi. There’s much more darkness because these are our own people fighting us, and all we have is each other, more than ever. For my character [Kiri], there’s a lot of realisations and discoveries. She still has trouble connecting with the ancestors; the one thing the Na’vi people can count on is closed off to her and that’s confusing and upsetting. And because she’s half human, it makes her feel like she’s not part of them. I remember when I first read two and three [The Way Of Water and Fire And Ash], three seemed, by contrast, very dark — and yet here we are in a very dark period on the planet. There’s something eerie about how Jim [Cameron] can anticipate these revolutions in our world.
The parkour was intense, the free-diving really was very intense.
Only James Cameron would cast you in Avatar as Dr Grace Augustine, kill you off and then say, “Oh, we’re bringing you back as a teenage girl…”
I remember having lunch with him and we talked about this forest girl, but I had no idea he’d create something that made so much sense, and was so playable. I mean, of course, he has kids this age so he’s living with that reality all the time. But she’s a joy to play — and also, it’s a chance for me. I was such a miserable 14-, 15-year-old. I was so insecure — and funny, so I managed to survive high school — but I didn’t have any real confidence. And it’s given me an opportunity to go back and re-enter that state of mind, be in it and trust myself in a different way [with] that character; find the little crumbs of me there in the character. I felt a lot of despair when I was 14 and 15, and Kiri and all of them feel despair because of what’s happening to their world. But she has more support, perhaps, than I did as a kid, and so I find it very healing, in a way, to play her.
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You’re working and training with the young cast — and have done since The Way Of Water.
It was very important to Jim that we do everything. And I wanted to do all the things with the kids. The parkour was intense, the free-diving really was very intense. But I think, for me, as someone who’s about to turn 76, I can’t afford to do nothing, you know? I mean, I’m not a crazy person, but I do try to do something for an hour every day. I’ve always been like that, but now I have this extra motivation, because I don’t want to be an old crone by the time I get to [films] four and five. I still have to be able to do all these things — a little less free-diving, but that was so
exciting, the luxury of six months with the guy who trains Navy SEALs. And the fact that we are all in it together with our varying degrees of anxiety about swimming and going deep. I always had to get to the set, get in the water maybe 20 minutes before everybody else. It took me that long to get set up, warm up and calm down, because your body has to make a transition to being a water creature, from being a mammal. And that was never easy for me, [but] it’s fascinating. It’s really kind of a magic thing. I wish I could show it to you because it’s like a little bridge to this other world that was very necessary for us to be able to do these long days underwater.
I saw the water tanks on set of The Way Of Water and couldn’t get over the scale. I know they say you have to master your fear, but oh my God…
And it’s not like you get used to doing it! I think all of us had to cross that bridge every time, every day, or even after lunch too, you know? Just have to make that conversion against all the things in your body that say, “This is it, you’re going to die.” Yeah, it’s fascinating to find out what you’re capable of. Often [with] films I’m not the bravest creature in the world. Often I’m up against it and yet, because I really want to do it, I push myself and I go, “Wow. Never would I have thought I could do that.” But it doesn’t make it any easier the next time.
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And with Kiri, you added those less perfect, more ‘teenage’ elements to the character James created?
He comes up with these big moments, but leaves it up to you to do the work to get there — and not give up and go, “Oh, God!” No-one wants to let Jim down. You know, every time we come back to an Avatar movie, the world has moved on. And so I’m grateful for a filmmaker like Jim putting years into these stories, reminding us of who we really are, where we are. Like our democracy right now, we believed there were checks and balances. In fact, that isn’t happening, and you realise how much you’ve taken for granted — and now you have to fight. And that’s where we are with the planet, too. It’s an important lesson for us in America, and it’s an important lesson for us on Earth. You can’t just hope everything will be alright. You’ve got to actually take a stand.
People talk about the future of cinema, but there’s an urgency around large-scale, impactful cinema at a time when, as you say, the world is on fire.
It’s great to hear you say that. You know, films are, to me, sustenance, nourishment. And there’s a lot of stuff that’s not that nourishing, it passes the time. But every now and then — like I just had a movie open at TIFF [Toronto International Film Festival], Dust Bunny, a glorious small film by Bryan Fuller, and that night [it premiered] at Midnight Madness, people were just gobbling it up. Because it’s so special, it’s so personal. I feel the same way but on a much bigger scale with Avatar: you bring your whole self to it as a spectator.
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You couldn’t have imagined a film like Avatar back on your first major movie, Alien, but your physicality is key to both. When you were younger, there was cynicism about a woman so tall — at six feet — making it. How did you make it so core to you as an actor?
I came from the theatre where that’s all you have when you present yourself on stage — the last thing you want to do is hide as you come on; you have to embrace whatever you are. I had a very short mother, she was 5’ 2, 3” — English, too! — and she used to say, “You’re going to be so happy you’re tall.” And, of course, it was one of the many things I couldn’t imagine when I was a teenager. But I did grow into it, and [as] my mother was very much an athlete, I have always found that strength in women is so attractive. I feel very lucky that I was able to go, “Alright, well, listen, I’m six feet tall, and I [have] big shoulders,” and just pray that there’d be some crazy director there like Peter (Weir, who directed Weaver in 1982’s The Year Of Living Dangerously). I always thought it took an unconventional director to think of casting me, and I was able to find a lot of those — it could easily have not worked out like that.
That would have really been the death of me, if I had to play girlfriend or best-friend roles.
Years ago, Ridley Scott said of you when you came in for your audition for Ripley, “I knew this was her.”
Oh, really? That’s interesting. I really hadn’t done anything — a couple of little scenes in an Israeli movie [Madman], which I’ve still never seen — but I had no idea what I was doing. And I remember I wore these very high ‘hooker boots’ because I thought, “Oh, science-fiction. I can have some fun,” which meant that I absolutely towered over Ridley Scott. And more power to him that he didn’t go, “Oh my God, this woman is grotesque.”
I feel I was given jobs of playing women like Ripley who are in these extreme situations but [that] allowed me, as Kiri does, to use all the parts of me that are self-doubting. You know, you don’t play a character like Ripley thinking, “I have the answers,” and I decided that the first week of filming. I remember saying to [Alien co-star] Ian Holm, “Do you think Ripley really thinks what she’s doing is right?” And he said, “Yes.” And I said, “You know, I don’t think she ever has that certainty. It’s complete improvisation from beginning to end. She never feels like she’s doing the right thing, or that there is a right thing, or a great path to some logical ending. It’s all chaos. It’s overwhelming, and all you can do is put one foot in front of another.” And on Alien, I was literally doing that. I look back and feel very lucky, in a way, that I was fighting for my life, day to day — each day was so new to me. I tried not to think about the responsibility and pretended I was doing a play. I had a lot of confidence in a certain kind of theatre, and so just thought, “Oh, this is such a strange movie. It’s the Off-Off Broadway of movies.”
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You had ‘character’ roles in theatre: a schizophrenic, a woman with a hedgehog in her vagina… And in film, you didn’t start out with supporting ‘girlfriend’ roles.
I think that would have really been the death of me, if I had to play girlfriend or best-friend roles. Some of those more conventional movies, if I’d had to pretend to be more normal — which I’m not really — I would have had a much harder time, because I would have been acting. Trying to act as someone who acts normal. I’m much better at playing a girl who keeps a hedgehog in her vagina than I am at playing someone who’s going shopping with a friend. Although, I am playing Meryl Streep’s best friend in a movie that’s going to shoot at the beginning of 2026 [Joseph Cedar’s Useful Idiots]. And that’ll be fun! I mean, how rare is it to have two older women who are best friends, and have a history together? I’m delighted they’re even having that in a movie, that’s a shock. And so now, yeah, I’m ready finally to play the best-friend part.
Ripley endures as someone who even can inspire me if I need a little encouragement.
But I’m curious about the argument still raging: how important is it that Ripley’s a woman? For me, it’s the least relevant thing. She’s a complex human being — strong, good at her job and, sometimes, scared and vulnerable. Where do you come down?
I feel that one of the reasons Ripley endures as someone who even can inspire me if I need a little encouragement, is that she is an ‘everyperson’. She is a human character. And you’re right, [but] I think it was more significant when the movie came out — there had never been a survivor who was a woman. It was just unheard of. But as the years have gone on, I feel like the reason she’s interesting to people is because, as you say, she’s a human being, she’s not all powerful. I always felt I was so in touch with my own vulnerability when I was playing Ripley. She didn’t pretend it doesn’t exist, she just had to keep going. And I feel like women certainly were looking to see that in films, but I also think people were just looking for a character who can navigate situations and come out of them and do it not in a super-human, Marvel way. I think we all see ourselves in characters like that [where] it’s not easy. You have to survive this scene in order to get to the next thing. And I feel that that’s the story of Avatar, too.
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What James Cameron did with the script in Aliens is perhaps not dissimilar to Fire And Ash. Introducing grief and loss, these darker elements…
Yes, and I would say that with Oona Chaplin’s character [Varang, leader of the Ash People] — a scary, unnerving character, [who’s] so damaged from what has happened to her as an Ash Person — once again, Jim has created this incredibly strong, mesmerising woman character.
Do we learn the wrong lessons from these female characters? By trying to make them a model, a formula? We often hear in action that ‘X’ is the new Ripley?
I think it’s what you said earlier: when Walter [Hill] and Dan [O’Bannon] wrote this character, they wrote her like a guy. And I think that’s the secret to writing any character — you write the individual, and all these cultural requirements of what a woman should be sort of go. You know, it used to be the studio would say you have to be sympathetic. [And] sometimes they asked women to play characters of action, and then put them in some absurd costume. I was lucky because I was literally in a NASA suit Ridley and I found on the floor. And pretty much, Ripley gave me the freedom to say to directors, “I feel that the arc should be this; is this really true to the character?” I’ve always shot my big mouth off because as an English major, it’s all about the story. I have these alarms that go off when something is fudged, and always feel the script is better for asking questions. I wouldn’t abuse that privilege but as actors, it’s our job to feel it way down in here.
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There’s such breadth to your work. There are franchises — you’ve got Star Wars coming up — and indies, and we haven’t even talked about your comedies. If there is a thread, is it the writing?
Yeah, that’s my compass; it’s always the script. So [with] The Mandalorian And Grogu, it was not my intention to find a fourth franchise, I didn’t ever imagine that I would enter the Star Wars world. But what’s interesting about Star Wars now is they’re no longer trying to do the Star Wars to end all Star Wars. They’re letting the universe exist, and tell[ing] really interesting stories within that. I think Jon Favreau thought, “Okay, we want this very strong character. Let’s make it a woman.” I’m not sure it was supposed to be a woman. I think again, these days, they often think, “What do I need to do to make this seem more timely?”, and now, because women are doing everything, hooray for us. [But] I just fell in love with the script and said, “I don’t know anything about this world.” Jon said, “Well, you can watch the series,” and I said, “Oh, there’s a series?!”
Is there a filmmaker you haven’t worked with yet, something you have to make?
I might be doing a movie with this brilliant young director, Stephen Fingleton, whose first film, [2015 post-apocalyptic sci-fi thriller] The Survivalist, was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever seen. I’m always delighted when directors think of me, because, in a way, you have to have an imagination; the Alien thing is so strong, you know? I did The Tempest [on stage] last year in London and think that’s a great place to be an actor. There’s such a belief in the job — which is to take you out of your world and leave you changed. To light up some parts of you that are dormant.
This article was originally published in the December 2025 issue of Empire. Sigourney Weaver was shot exclusively for Empire in Los Angeles on 21 September 2025. Avatar: Fire And Ash comes to UK cinemas from 19 December.