Journalism

The Olympics that Weren’t

An athlete who gave up her competitive dream learns that in the end, you’re in the race for yourself

Exiled by Fear
The land of her youth no longer exists, replaced by a Mexico where her friends don’t leave their homes at night and where corpses hang from bridges. 

Carlos Mencia Couldn’t Save Them
More damage was done canceling a Santa Monica fundraiser than could ever have occurred by allowing a controversial comic to perform.

Mom, Obama and Me
Politics played the central role in my family’s nightly dinner conversations. I don’t recall ever disagreeing with my mother politically. Until now.

 


Lorenza Munoz interviewed dozens of filmmakers, creative talents and writers for the entertainment section of the Daily Beast.

 

 

 

Life of the pahh-ty
At this year’s celebrity-challenged Cannes Film Festival, one man stands out. And here he is, crammed into a narrow passageway on a yacht, making not very nice chitchat with a reporter.

Studios Cut to the Chase
At 5 a.m. the police kicked in the front door of the modest apartment house near working-class Essen. Guns drawn, they ordered the family out of bed. A few minutes later, they hauled away a 22-year-old college student as his stunned parents looked on in silence. This wasn’t a scene from a big-screen police thriller. But it had Hollywood’s fingerprints all over it.

Wearing pride on sleeve
Born in 1950s Oklahoma, Peter Mui says he never felt proud of his ancestry.
Afraid of ridicule, his Chinese immigrant father would ask Mui’s mother not to speak Mandarin in public so that the family wouldn’t stand out. But Mui has turned those childhood memories of prejudice into a $12-million clothing company.  With his YellowMan brand, Mui has taken a slur and turned it on its head.

At the crossroads of revolution
“Bienvenida al [fin] del mundo,” he blurted into the phone. (Loosely translated: Welcome to the rump of the earth). After flying for 13 hours, not sleeping in 24 and only vaguely remembering when I had my last meal, I agreed with him that I had indeed, landed at the end of the earth — Chile, to be exact, on the southernmost edge of South America.