The red carpet of the Goya Awards shines with a murmur of anticipation. The air, filled with glamour and flashes, pauses for a moment when she appears. Susan Sarandon does not walk: she glides. She does not smile: she radiates. In her eyes lies the serenity of someone who has lived several lives already, and the spark of someone who is not done with this one yet. Tonight she receives the International Goya Award, an honor that, according to the Academy of Cinema, recognizes “the perfect combination of talent and professional success, glamour, and social and political commitment.” But what the Academy honors tonight goes beyond a legendary filmography. It is the constancy of a heart that beats, unwavering, to the rhythm of its own convictions, no matter the cost.
The interview takes place in a quiet corner, far from the noise of the gala. The award, a bronze sculpture representing Francisco de Goya, rests on the table between us.
1- Do you feel this award is, in some way, a hug after a difficult time?
She holds my gaze. There is no trace of bitterness, only a sharp clarity. She responds with luminous honesty:
“Being used as an example of what not to do if you want to keep working… is a heavy label,” she says, referring to the consequences of her statements about the conflict in Gaza in 2023, which led her agency to terminate her contract. “But I prefer that weight to the weight of silent complicity. I was inspired by those who believe enough in the possibility of a better world to raise their voice.”
Her filmography is a map of that same courage. From Janet’s sexual liberation in The Rocky Horror Picture Show to Louise’s feminist rage in Thelma & Louise, and the radical compassion of Sister Helen Prejean in Dead Man Walking, a role that earned her an Oscar, her characters have been women who break molds. “Cinema gave me a voice. It would be a betrayal not to use it for what I believe is right,” she says.
The conversation turns personal. Her romantic life, as public as her activism, has been a testament to freedom. From her first marriage to Chris Sarandon, whose surname she kept, to her long relationship with Tim Robbins (father of her two youngest children) and her later openness about her bisexuality.
2- How is resilience like that built?
“With truths,” she replies without hesitation. “Uncomfortable truths, sometimes. I raised my children with the idea that authenticity is the only real luxury. I was the eldest of nine siblings, I grew up in Catholicism… that teaches you about community, but also about the need to find your own faith.”
She speaks about losing friends after controversy, but also about finding “new friends… empathetic and brave friends and family.” In her story, loneliness is not a void, but a space she chose to fill with coherence.
On activism and the future, her reflection is clear:
“Activism is not a position, it is a natural consequence of being alive and looking around you,” says the woman who has been arrested protesting the separation of migrant families and who has spoken out against gun violence.
3- What would you like people to remember about Susan Sarandon?
She thinks for a few seconds, while applause for another awardee echoes outside.
“That I never confused my celebrity with my worth, nor my silence with my peace. That I chose to stand by. A death row inmate, an unpopular cause, my children, myself. In the end, that is the only work that matters.”
4-Looking back, is there any truth she paid a particularly painful price for, one she would reconsider or express differently today?
Her eyes rest on the Goya on the table, but her gaze seems elsewhere.
“Reconsidering the truth… what an interesting question. You know? I have been used as an example of what not to do if you want to keep working in this business. I lost an agency, some projects, and yes… also contact with friends and family. The price was, and still is, real.
But to reconsider the truth itself… no. My mistake, the ‘terrible mistake’ I once spoke about, was timing, perhaps the exact words in an improvised speech, not being able to find the formulation that would not hurt anyone amid so much pain. That haunts me. But the heart of what I said, the urgency of raising one’s voice against what one sees as injustice… no, I do not reconsider that. I was inspired by those who believe enough in a better world to speak, and I prefer that inspiration to silence. The price is not proof that the truth was worth it… the proof is that, despite the price, the new friendships you find are empathetic and brave, and you realize you are not alone. The price is just the bill for not having been a passive spectator of life.”
The conversation becomes especially intimate in those moments one cannot forget, and I ask her:
“Is there any anonymous gesture, away from the spotlight, that you consider as defining of the person you have tried to be as any speech in front of cameras?”
Susan Sarandon responds with a warm, genuine smile that lights up her face:
“Speeches are necessary, but they are carried away by the wind. What endures… is contact. I remember, years ago, at a premiere, a mother approached me. She was not a fan; she was a warrior. Her son had a rare illness. She did not want a photo or an autograph. She just took my hands and looked at me. Her eyes had a exhaustion I had only pretended to know. She said: ‘Thank you for making us feel less alone.’ And she left. In that second, there was no actress or character. Just two women in the trenches of unconditional love. I had portrayed fear and anger, but she was living hope. That completely disarms you and reminds you what this is for: to connect, to give voice to those who do not have one, to say ‘I see your struggle.’ Those microseconds of pure humanity, without cameras, are the bricks I have tried to build myself with. Today, receiving this award, I think of her and of all the anonymous people I carry engraved in my soul. They are my true filmography.”
The gala reaches its climax. When her name echoes through the auditorium, there is not just applause. There is a wave of respect. As she walks onto the stage, Sarandon does not carry the weight of a trophy, but the lightness of someone who has remained true to herself. But the lasting image, the truly emotional one, is not that of the actress holding the statuette, but of that woman with tears welling up, on the verge of crying.
The 2026 International Goya Award has found its recipient. But the example of Susan Sarandon, the person, belongs to anyone who believes that a life of principles is the only true masterpiece worth creating.
I would like to give special thanks to my young friend Nuria, without whom I could not have carried out this interview, as she not only shared moments of friendship after years without seeing each other and many hours of phone conversations, but also helped me translate the conversation. Thank you, Nuria, for making this dream possible, which otherwise would not have been possible.
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