Alex Freund

Published in Esquire's August 2010 issue on "The Impossible"

Alex Freund

No waiter has ever looked so happy. None who's ever waited on me, at least. In fact, a moment ago, this same guy did wait on me. But he wasn't this waiter then. Now, after noticing Mexican actress Ana de la Reguera sitting across from me, he looks like he just strapped the sun to his face.

Alex Freund

She notices his smile (it'd be hard not to) and the one she gives back to him is neither proud nor perfunctory. She's genuinely pleased to be appreciated. For what, it's hard to say. He could be familiar with her work — the countless Mexican movies and telenovelas; the HBO Latino series Capadocia, which was nominated for three International Emmys; 2006's Nacho Libre, in which she plays a meek nun with a knack for subtle glances and a face that manages to draw attention away from Jack Black's absurd showboating. He could be one of the four people who saw her in the Bruce Willis/Tracy Morgan flop, Cop Out. Or he could just be struck by what he sees.

Alex Freund

De la Reguera is the opposite of Cinco de Mayo: huge in Mexico, and recognized by only a few people here. When the thirty-three-year-old did Nacho Libre, her first American movie, Jack Black couldn't have been bigger — a few years after School of Rock, on the heels of King Kong. But when the two went out in Oaxaca, near where they were filming, she was swarmed while he was ignored. Here, in the bar at the London hotel in New York City, a few blocks from the huge, touristy crowds of Times Square, she's just another patron. No one, with the exception of a Mexican actor who greeted her on the way in, seems to recognize her at all.

Alex Freund

That will likely change this fall, when she stars with Danny McBride in the second season of HBO's foul and funny Eastbound & Down. After leaving North Carolina at the end of season one, Kenny Powers (McBride) — a racist, homophobic former pro baseball player — moves to Mexico to start over. "[Mexico] is kind of like a Third World country [to him]," de la Reguera says. "And if he feels like he's king in America, imagine how he feels there." He soon falls for de la Reguera's character, a lounge singer who covers pop songs translated into Spanish and who has, as de la Reguera says, "a big asset." She explains: "He called himself a boob man in the first season, but now..." She trails off as if she won't qualify, as if it were obvious what he'd like about her. It is.

De la Reguera grew up in Veracruz, a beach town where her mom still lives and she keeps an apartment. She landed her first telenovela role at nineteen and found immediate success, doing fifteen more TV shows and movies over the span of ten years. But the Mexican film industry is tiny — only thirty to forty movies are made each year — so four years ago she moved to Los Angeles. "There was a period of adapting to the country, to the auditions," she says. "People really didn't get to know me, because they still thought maybe I don't speak English or that I live in Mexico. [Plus], there's much more competition." It wasn't until last year that she started getting the roles she wants. She got new representation, and she learned to avoid most dramas: "I'm going to look terrible when I say this," she says, "but they always write the Latina parts the same. There's a lot of roles for doctors, lawyers, or cops, and all of them ... are smart, clever, strong, but at the same time, they're superfast talking and super... sharp. I'm not interested in spending six years doing that every day of my life. So I told my agent, just send me to comedies."

De la Reguera is small — around five feet tall. She's stunning, even without makeup, in a plain black shirt, cream blazer, and jeans. Although she apologizes for not looking prettier, there's really no need. While we talk, she grabs a few strands of thick brown hair that have fallen over her shoulders and fiddles with them mindlessly. It's a combination of innocence and sex that reminds you of Penélope Cruz or Emmanuelle Chriqui. And while she's not exactly funny, she is fun. When she brings up her newest project — director Jon Favreau's upcoming sci-fi western Cowboys & Aliens, starring Harrison Ford and Daniel Craig — I ask her if she's seen Iron Man 2, also directed by Favreau and recently out in theaters. She shakes her head, then gestures toward the recorder, smiles, and exclaims, "Yes! Of course!"

The most telling moment of the afternoon is the last one. As we say goodbye, right as de la Reguera turns and starts to walk away, I notice a girl standing a few feet from her, talking with some friends. She's about fifteen, a tourist. When she sees de la Reguera, her face changes. She turns her head fully toward her for a second look. It's not recognition; it's a look of appreciation. Like the waiter's but less lusty.

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