Katheryn Winnick on Moving from Vikings to Big Sky
When Big Sky premiered on ABC, many viewers tuned in out of curiosity. Created by legendary showrunner David E. Kelley, the series promised suspense, mystery, and a dark exploration of small-town secrets. But for a significant portion of the audience, the real intrigue lay in one question: Who is Katheryn Winnick after Lagertha?
For six seasons, Winnick embodied Lagertha — a shieldmaiden, warrior, queen, and one of the most iconic female characters in modern television history. Leaving that role behind was never going to be easy. And yet, Big Sky demanded exactly that: not a Viking legend, but a woman grounded in the modern world, shaped by trauma, anger, and unfinished business.
Jenny Hoyt is not a queen. She carries no sword. But make no mistake — she is just as dangerous.
A Dark Mystery at the Heart of Big Sky
From the mind of David E. Kelley, Big Sky follows private detective Cassie Dewell (Kylie Bunbury) and former police officer Jenny Hoyt (Katheryn Winnick) as they search for two sisters kidnapped along a desolate highway in Montana. What begins as a missing-persons case quickly spirals into something far more disturbing — a string of disappearances connected to truck stops, and a killer operating in plain sight.
Jenny’s involvement is deeply personal. Her estranged husband, Cody Hoyt (Ryan Phillippe), disappears while investigating the case, forcing her into an uneasy partnership with Cassie — who also happens to share a complicated romantic history with Cody.
It’s not just a crime story. It’s a collision of grief, jealousy, loyalty, and survival.
Leaving Lagertha Behind Wasn’t Easy
In a one-on-one interview with Collider, Katheryn Winnick openly admitted that transitioning from Vikings to Big Sky was intimidating.
After six years of playing Lagertha — a character rooted in myth and history — Winnick was stepping into unfamiliar territory. Lagertha’s journey was known. She would rise, fall, and rise again. Jenny Hoyt, on the other hand, was an open question.
“There’s a fear in that,” Winnick explained. “You don’t know where the character is going. You’re making bold choices episode by episode, hoping they pay off.”
Even something as simple as wearing jeans felt strange after years of armor, braids, and battlefields. Unlike Lagertha, Jenny is closer to Winnick herself — modern, flawed, emotional, and unpredictable. That closeness made the role both challenging and thrilling.
A Shocking Pilot Ending That Changed Everything
Few TV pilots in recent memory delivered a twist as jaw-dropping as Big Sky’s opening episode.
When Winnick read the script, her reaction was visceral.
“Did that just happen?” she recalled thinking. “Am I reading this right?”
Cody Hoyt — positioned as a central figure — is brutally killed in the pilot. The moment doesn’t just shock the audience; it detonates Jenny’s emotional core. Her motivation is no longer about justice alone, but about closure, guilt, and a desperate need to right something that can never truly be fixed.
This death reshapes the entire series. It cements the tension between Jenny and Cassie — two women bound by loss, betrayal, and love for the same man — and forces them to confront their differences in order to survive.
The Love-Hate Bond Between Two Women
One of Big Sky’s greatest strengths is its central relationship.
Jenny and Cassie are polar opposites. Jenny is impulsive, confrontational, and emotionally raw. Cassie is analytical, composed, and methodical. Their partnership is born out of necessity, not trust — and that friction is electric.
Winnick credits much of that chemistry to her co-star Kylie Bunbury.
Despite filming during COVID restrictions, the two actresses developed a powerful on-screen bond. Their first scene together involved a physical fight — hair pulling, bar brawling, raw aggression — setting the tone for a relationship built on conflict and respect.
“It’s competitive, but there’s love there,” Winnick said. “And the audience feels that.”
She even likened the dynamic to a modern, gender-flipped Starsky and Hutch — two equals, clashing but inseparable.
Why David E. Kelley’s Writing Matters
For Winnick, working with David E. Kelley was a major draw.
What sets Kelley apart, she says, is how he writes women — not as ideals, but as contradictions. His female characters are strong yet broken, confident yet haunted. They don’t “have it all together,” and that honesty makes them compelling.
Kelley’s ability to mislead audiences, to guide them down one narrative path before violently shifting direction, keeps Big Sky unpredictable. It’s suspense television with emotional depth — dark, twisted, and timely.
In an era oversaturated with content, Big Sky feels deliberate. Uncomfortable. Necessary.
Stepping Behind the Camera: Winnick the Director
Beyond acting, Big Sky marks another important chapter in Winnick’s career: directing.
Long before Hollywood, Winnick directed in high school. Acting simply took over. But during Vikings, she finally stepped behind the camera — earning the Best Director Women’s Image Award for her debut.
For Winnick, directing is about perspective.
“With strong female leads, it’s important to have a woman’s voice behind the camera,” she said.
On Big Sky, she plans to continue directing, seeing it not as a departure from acting but an evolution. Observing lenses, blocking, and storytelling choices has become second nature to her — even while performing.
Learning from Sean Penn
Winnick also credits working with Sean Penn on Flag Day as a transformative experience.
Playing Penn’s wife while watching him direct was, in her words, awe-inspiring. His precision, preparation, and ability to draw performances from actors left a lasting impression.
It reinforced her belief that storytelling is most powerful when actors and directors speak the same language — something she now strives for in her own work.
What Comes Next for Jenny Hoyt?
At the time of the interview, Big Sky was greenlit for ten episodes, with its future uncertain. But one thing was clear: Jenny Hoyt was designed to grow.
Unlike Lagertha, Jenny’s arc is unwritten. Her pain is unresolved. Her identity is in flux.
And that uncertainty is exactly what excites Winnick.
She trusts David E. Kelley to make Jenny someone audiences don’t just admire — but empathize with. Someone messy. Human. Real.
A New Kind of Warrior
Katheryn Winnick didn’t abandon strength when she left Vikings. She redefined it.
Jenny Hoyt doesn’t fight with swords or shields. She fights with instinct, intellect, and stubborn resilience. Her battles are internal as much as external — and that makes them more dangerous.
From Viking queen to modern outlaw, Winnick proves that powerful women on television don’t need armor to be formidable.
Sometimes, the most dangerous weapon is simply refusing to back down.