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How Leslie Liao left Netflix's HR department to return as a rising star in stand-up comedy

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How Leslie Liao left Netflix's HR department to return as a rising star in stand-up comedy

Pacing the stage, Leslie Liao muses about the various moisturizers she, an almost 37-year-old, feels compelled to use. “I spend most of my time rubbing creams all over my body. … Face cream, eye cream, foot cream, just constantly creaming myself.”

She continues; a mic drop about modern dating imminent. “I just learned there is a neck cream. I have to cream my neck. … I overheard a man complaining once how he spends all his money on drinks for girls and it’s so unfair. Bro, I am wearing $300 worth of face paint and body jam to not scare you away. I’d like my Moscow mule now, please.” The crowd erupts with laughter.

“That joke was a real conversation I had with a man years ago,” Liao says, seated outside at Jewel in Silver Lake. “He was really making the argument. He was like, ‘I would love if a girl bought me a drink.’ And then I went on this rant. I was like, ‘Do you know? I had to put on my face for you to even talk to me. I’m in debt. So, you owe me a Moscow mule.’ And he laughed so hard.”

This is precisely the type of deadpan observational humor Liao, an L.A.-based comedian, tends to lead with. In addition to riffing on various body creams, Liao’s shows cycle through such topics as the cognitive dissonance of “being attracted to men” but “not finding men attractive,” fixing said men, growing up Asian American in Orange County, and putting a 100-mile search radius on dating apps to achieve “maximum efficiency,” among other daily indignities.

The comedian’s two worlds started to overlap late last year when Liao booked a gig on “The Tonight Show” and a short set on Netflix’s “Verified Stand-Up.” “My bosses at Netflix saw me on Netflix. They saw me on Jimmy Fallon,” Liao says.

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(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)

Liao might be self-deprecating about her hyper-methodical nature, but it’s because of her personality that she finds herself here today working as a full-time comedian, free of the corporate world for the first time in her adult life. From 2017 to January of this year, she was living a double life—from 9 to 5, she worked in HR at Netflix. In the evenings, she did stand-up. One had nothing to do with the other. “I just didn’t sleep,” Liao says of that time. “The shows were so late. I would have to be awake so early and be so sharp. Some meetings, I would have to lead them. They’re not always a Zoom meeting where you can be off camera and like, put your feet up and secretly be in PJs.”

The comedian’s two worlds started to overlap late last year when Liao booked a gig on “The Tonight Show” and a short set on Netflix’s “Verified Stand-Up.” “My bosses at Netflix saw me on Netflix. They saw me on Jimmy Fallon,” Liao says. “In a nice way, they were like, ‘What are you doing here? They were so cool and supportive. They were like, go be a star. They didn’t fire me, but they were like, ‘It’s your time.’”

Though she was well on her way to achieving financial stability as a stand-up, Liao maintains that she needed a little bit of a nudge from Netflix bosses to take the leap away from a corporate job. “It was so scary — because all I knew was having a somewhat safe day job. But I’m so happy.”

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Since leaving Netflix, Liao has applied her high-key scheduling to a creative’s life. Her Google Calendar reveals a rainbow of appointments and events. (“When comics see my calendar, they scoff, laugh, and barf.”) When she arrives at the café for her photo shoot, Liao has on an oversized blazer and pulls two pairs of potential shoe options out of an oversize black tote — low-top sneakers and heeled black boots. She ultimately picks the sneakers, agreeing that the juxtaposition of a workwear top and casual trainers feels symbolic.

When fellow comics find out Liao had been employed at the streaming behemoth, Liao says, they nearly always ask if that’s how she got her foot in the comedy door, to which she responds with a look that can only be described as, Girl, no. “Do you think I’m gonna slide my demo under Ted Sarandos’ door?” she cracks. “Do you think I’m gonna find any exec in Content and try out a bit in the elevator? Do my shtick in the cafeteria?”

Woman in a business suit standing in front of a mural

Born to Chinese immigrant parents, Liao was drawn to entertainment from an early age (she’s a big fan of Jim Gaffigan, Conan O’Brien, Mitch Hedberg, and Tig Notaro).

(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)

“Honestly?” she continues. “If I went to any comedy exec at Netflix and told them, ‘You should put me on Netflix, I’m a comic. Did you know? Have you seen my stuff?’ They should fire me. It’s so inappropriate and unprofessional — and lame. They would have had every right to escort me out of the building that day.” Liao never even imagined that she’d be a stand-up comedian. Born to Chinese immigrant parents, Liao was drawn to entertainment from an early age (she’s a big fan of Jim Gaffigan, Conan O’Brien, Mitch Hedberg and Tig Notaro), but she always pictured herself doing something behind the scenes. “I used to want to be a ballerina,” she says. “And then it turned into like, some vague version of a corporate job. I was like, I’m gonna have a briefcase and a blazer.”

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Case in point: When Liao would watch the Academy Awards growing up, she liked how the celebrities would thank their agents in their acceptance speeches. “I’d be like, that sounds cool. I didn’t want to be Charlize Theron or Halle Berry. I wanted to be their agent. For whatever reason, it didn’t click for me to want to be the star. I wanted to be who’s helping the star get that gig.”

After attending USC Film School, Liao started doing what many 20-something entertainment hopefuls do — work as an assistant and begin climbing up the ladder. Prior to landing the job at Netflix, Liao assisted a comedy producer at Universal Studios, where she volunteered to help scout new talent. That’s when she started attending stand-up shows every other night. “They didn’t really need me to,” she laughs. “I was an assistant, so they were like, ‘Please stay and answer the phones. None of us are asking you to go to the Hollywood Improv. But I just got in the habit, and I loved it. I tried to make it part of my job.”

Liao didn’t even consider doing stand-up until witnessing a less-than-impressive showcase. That’s when the wheels started to turn: Should she try this herself? “At that time in my life, in my late 20s, a lot of my friends would tell me I should do stand-up. … But I never thought I could do it. It seemed like such an imaginary world to me. I didn’t know any comics personally. My parents had such business-y jobs. So, I couldn’t grab on to the idea that I could be on stage and people will clap for me. It just didn’t seem real.”

Woamn leaning on a fence looking into the camera

“I was scared of it going well,” Liao says when talking about her budding stand up career. “Because I knew that it meant I would never stop.”

(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)

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Prior to her very first set at the Haha Comedy Club in North Hollywood, Liao took a writing class, where she’d write, hone and workshop ideas along with a handful of fellow students. For graduation, the class performed sets for friends and family, each comic cheering the other on. “[The class] was designed in a smart way to [show you] this is how good it can be. You could have an amazing night, rather than starting on your own and having a ton of s— shows. I remember it like going as well as it possibly could. I remembered all the jokes, and everyone laughed where I thought they would, and at one moment I even riffed. “I was scared of it going well,” Liao continues. “Because I knew that it meant I would never stop.”

And she hasn’t. In addition to making the rounds at go-to venues like Dynasty Typewriter, the Comedy Store and the Laugh Factory, last summer Liao was included in Just for Laughs Festival’s New Faces of Comedy showcase. Next month, she’s playing the Masonic Lodge at Hollywood Forever as part of Netflix Is a Joke Fest.

Her path to comedy might be unconventional, but Liao has zero reservations about starting slightly later than most. If anything, chasing a comedy career in her 30s has proved advantageous. “I think I waited till I was 30 to make sure that I could feel a teeny bit confident to preach my thoughts onstage into a microphone,” Liao says. “A lot of comics start young, like at 20, or a teenager. I’m like, where’s the life you’ve lived? I knew I was lacking perspective in my 20s. I had to live some life to have things happen to me and be like, ‘What was that?’”

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Meet the Mexican American talent behind ‘KPop Demon Hunters’

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Meet the Mexican American talent behind ‘KPop Demon Hunters’

The House of Pies, a Los Feliz institution, is bustling on a chilly January morning.

It wouldn’t be shocking if some of the patrons here for breakfast were casually chit-chatting about the cultural behemoth that “KPop Demon Hunters” has become. After all, the 2025 animated saga about three music stars fighting otherworldly foes is now the most-watched movie ever on Netflix; “Golden,” its showstopping track, has since become the first Korean pop song to ever win a Grammy.

But for Danya Jimenez, 29, who sits across from me sipping coffee, the reception to the movie she began writing on back in 2020 isn’t entirely surprising, but certainly delayed.

“When we first started working on it, I was like, ‘People are going to be obsessed with this. It’s going to be the best thing ever,’” she recalls. But as several years passed, and she and her writing partner and best friend Hannah McMechan, 30, moved on to other projects. They weren’t sure if “KPop” would ever see the light of day. Production for animation takes time.

It wasn’t until she learned that her Mexican parents were organically aware of the movie that Jimenez considered it could actually live up to the potential she initially had hoped for.

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“Without me saying anything, my parents were like, ‘People are talking about this’ — like my dad’s co-workers or my aunt’s friends — that’s when I started to realize, ‘This might be something big,’” she says.

“But never in my life did I think it would be at this scale.”

“KPop Demon Hunters” is now nominated for two Academy Awards: animated feature and original song. And that’s on top of how ubiquitous the characters — Rumi, Mira and Zoey — already are.

“Everyone sends me photos of knockoff ‘KPop Demon Hunters’ dolls from across the border,” Jimenez says laughing. “My friend got me a shirt from Mexicali with the three girls, but they do not look anything like themselves. She even got my name on it, which was awesome.”

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After graduating from Loyola Marymount University in 2018, Jimenez and McMechan quickly found their footing in the industry, as well as representation. But it was their still unproduced screenplay, “Luna Likes,” about a Mexican American teenage girl obsessed with the late chef and author Anthony Bourdain, that tangentially put them on the “KPop” path.

“Luna Likes” earned the pair a spot at the prestigious Sundance Screenwriters Lab, where Nicole Perlman, who co-wrote “Guardians of the Galaxy,” served as one of their advisors. Perlman, credited as a production consultant on “KPop,” thought they would be a good fit.

Jimenez didn’t see the connection between her R-rated comedy about a moody Mexican American teen and a PG animated feature set in the world of K-pop music, but the duo still pitched. Their idea more closely resembled an indie dramedy than an epic action flick.

“If [our version of ‘KPop’] were live-action, it would’ve been a million-dollar budget. It was the smallest movie ever. Our big finale was a pool party,” Jimenez says. “We had all of the girls and the boys with instruments, which obviously is not a thing in K-pop, and everyone was making out.”

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Even though their original pitch wouldn’t work for the film, Maggie Kang, the co-director and also a co-writer, believed their voices as two young women who were best friends, roommates and creative collaborators could help the movie’s heroines feel more authentic.

“Maggie had already interviewed all of the more established writers, especially older men,” Jimenez says. “She knows the culture. She knew K-pop, she’s an animator. She just needed the girls’ voices to come through, so I think that’s why we got hired.”

Kang confirms this via email: “It’s always great to collaborate with writers who are the actual age of your characters! Hannah and Danya were exactly that,” she says. “They were very helpful in bringing a fresh, young voice to HUNTR/X.”

Neither Jimenez nor McMechan were K-pop fans at the time. As part of their research, they both started watching K-pop videos, but it was McMechan who got “sucked into the K-hole” first. Still, it didn’t take long until the video for BTS’ “Life Goes On” entranced Jimenez.

“K-pop is a river that you fall into, and it just takes you,” Jimenez says. BTS and Got7 are her favorite groups. For McMechan, the ensemble that captivates her most is Stray Kids.

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In writing the trio of demon hunters, the co-writers modeled them after themselves. The characters’ propensity for ugly faces, silliness and a bit of grossness too, stems from the portrayals of girlhood and young womanhood that appeal to them. Jimenez, who says she was an angsty teen, most closely identifies with the rebellious Mira.

“I have a monotone vibe,” says Jimenez. “People always think that I’m a bitch just because I have a resting bitch face,” she says. “But as you can see in the movie, Mira cares so much about having everyone be really close. I feel like that’s how I’m with all my friends.”

Characters with strong personalities that are not simplistically likable feel the truest to Jimenez. In “Luna Likes,” the prickly protagonist is directly inspired by her experiences growing up, as well as the bond she shared with her dad over Bourdain’s “Parts Unknown” show.

“There’s a pressure to show that Mexicans are nice people and we’re hard workers. I was like, ‘Let’s make her kind of bitchy and very flawed,’” Jimenez says about Luna. “She’s a teenager in America and she should be given all the same opportunities — and also the forgiveness for being an ass— and [as] selfish at that age as anybody else.”

Hannah McMechan, left, and Danya Jimenez, co-writers of "KPop Demon Hunters," in Los Angeles

Hannah McMechan, left, and Danya Jimenez, co-writers of “KPop Demon Hunters,” met in college.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

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Though their upbringings were markedly different, it was their shared comedic sensibilities that connected Jimenez and McMechan when they met in college. The two were close long before deciding to pen stories together. “Having a writing partner is the best. I feel bad for people who don’t have a writing partner, no offense to them,” says Jimenez.

McMechan explains that their writing partnership works because it’s grounded on true friendship. And she believes they would not have gotten this far without each other. While McMechan’s strong suit is looking at the bigger picture, Jimenez finds humor in the details.

“Danya is definitely funnier than me,” says McMechan. “It’s really hard to write comedy in dialogue versus comedy in a situation because if you’re putting the comedy in the dialogue, it can sound so forced and cringey. But she’s really good at making it sound natural but still really funny.”

Though she had been writing stories for herself as a teen, Jimenez didn’t consider it a career path until as a high schooler she watched the romantic comedy “No Strings Attached,” in which Ashton Kutcher plays a production assistant for a TV series.

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“He is having a horrible time. But I was so obsessed with movies and TV, and I was like, ‘That looks incredible. I want to be doing what he’s doing,’” she recalls. “And my dad was like, ‘That’s a job.’”

Danya Jimenez, one of the co-writers of "KPop Demon Hunters," stands near the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles.

Danya Jimenez grew up in Orange County.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

As an infant, Jimenez spent some time living in Tijuana, where her parents are from, until the family settled back in San Diego, where she was born. And when she was around 5 years old, Jimenez, an only child, and her parents relocated to Orange County. Until then, Jimenez mostly spoke Spanish, which made for a tricky transition when starting school.

“I knew English, but it just wasn’t a habit,” she recalls. “I would raise my hand and accidentally speak Spanish in class. My teachers would be like, ‘We’re worried about her vocabulary.’ That was always an issue, so it’s really funny that I turned out to be a writer.”

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As she points out in her professional bio, it was movies and TV that helped with her English vocabulary, especially the Disney sitcom “Lizzie McGuire.”

Jimenez describes growing up in Orange County with few Latinos around outside of her family as an alienating experience. She admits to feeling great shame for some of her behaviors as a teenager afraid of being treated differently and desperate to fit in.

“I would speak Spanish to my mom like in a corner because I didn’t want everyone else to hear me speak Spanish,” Jimenez confesses. “If my mom pulled up to school to drop me off playing Spanish hits from the ‘80s or banda, I was like, ‘Can you turn it down please?’”

Like a lot of young Latinos, she’s now taking steps to connect with her heritage, and, in a way, atone for those moments where she let what others might think rob her of her pride.

“During the pandemic I cornered my grandma to make all of her recipes again so I could write them down,” she recalls. “Now I have them all written down on a website. Or if my mom corrects me for something that I’m saying in Spanish, I now listen.”

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At the risk of angering her, Jimenez describes her mother as a “cool mom,” and compares her to Amy Poehler’s character in “Mean Girls.” Raised in a household without financial struggles, Jimenez doesn’t often relate to stories about Latinos in the U.S. that make it to film and TV. Her hope is to expand Latino storytelling beyond the tropes.

“That’s very important to me, to just tell Latino stories or Mexican stories in a way that’s just authentic to me and hopefully someone else is like, ‘Yes, that’s me,’” she says. “A lot of people have certain expectations for Latino stories that I’m not willing to compromise on.”

Though they still would like to make “Luna Likes” if given the chance, for now, Jimenez and McMechan will continue their rapid ascent.

They’re “goin’ up, up, up” because it is their “moment.” They recently wrapped the Apple TV show “Brothers” starring Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson that filmed in Texas. They are also writing the feature “Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman” for Tim Burton to direct, with Margot Robbie in talks to star.

“I feel like I’ve just been operating in a state of shock for the past, I don’t know how many months since June,” says Jimenez in her signature deadpan affect. “But if I think about it too much, I’d be a nervous wreck.”

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Jeremy Schuetze’s ‘ANACORETA’ (2022) – Movie Review – PopHorror

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Jeremy Schuetze’s ‘ANACORETA’ (2022) – Movie Review – PopHorror

PopHorror had the chance to check out Anacoreta (2022) ahead of its streaming release! Does this meta-horror flick provide interesting story telling or is it a confusing mess.

 

Let’s have a look…

Synopsis

A group of friends heads to a secluded woodland cabin for a weekend getaway, planning to film an experimental horror movie. As the shoot progresses, the project begins to fall apart—until a real and terrifying presence emerges from the darkness.

Anacoreta is directed by Jeremy Schuetze. It was written by Jeremy Schuetze and Matt Visser. The film stars Antonia Thomas (Bagman 2024), Jesse Stanley (Raf 2019), Jeremy Schuetze (Jennifer’s Body 2009), and Matt Visser (A Lot Like Christmas 2021)

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My Thoughts

Antonia Thomas delivered an outstanding performance as the female lead in Anacoreta. It was remarkable to watch her convey such a wide range of emotions with authenticity and depth. I was continually impressed by her ability to switch seamlessly between different dialects. I absolutely loved her delivery of the dialogue of telling The Scorpion and the Frog fable.

Anacoreta employs a distinctive, meta-horror style of storytelling. The narrative follows a group of friends creating a “scripted reality” horror film, and as the plot unfolds, the boundary between their staged production and their actual lives becomes increasingly blurred. This was interesting, but at the same time frustrating as a viewer.

Check out Anacoreta on Prime Video and let us know your thoughts!

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Todd Meadows, ‘Deadliest Catch’ deckhand, dies at 25

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Todd Meadows, ‘Deadliest Catch’ deckhand, dies at 25

Todd Meadows, a crewmember on one of the fishing vessels featured on the long-running reality series “Deadliest Catch,” has died. He was 25.

Rick Shelford, the captain of the Aleutian Lady, announced in a Monday post on Facebook and Instagram that Meadows died Feb. 25. He called it “the most tragic day in the history of the Aleutian Lady on the Bering Sea.”

“We lost our brother,” Shelford wrote in his lengthy tribute. “Todd was the newest member of our crew, he quickly became family. His love for fishing and his strong work ethic earned everyone’s respect right away. His smile was contagious, and the sound of his laughter coming up the wheelhouse stairs or over the deck hailer is something we will carry with us always.

“He worked hard, loved deeply, and brought joy to those around him,” he added. “Todd will forever be part of this boat, this crew, and this brotherhood. Though we lost him far too soon, his legacy will live on through his children and in every memory we carry of him.”

A fundraiser set up in Meadows’ name described the deckhand from Montesano, Wash., as a father to “three amazing little boys” who died “while doing what he loved — crabbing out on Alaskan waters.”

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According to the Associated Press, Meadows died after he was reported to have fallen overboard around 170 miles north of Dutch Harbor, Alaska.

“He was recovered unresponsive by the crew approximately ten minutes later,” Chief Petty Officer Travis Magee, a spokesperson with the Coast Guard’s Arctic District, told the AP. The Coast Guard is investigating the incident.

Meadows was a first-year cast member of “Deadliest Catch,” the Discovery Channel reality series that follows crab fishermen navigating the perilous winds and waves of the Bering Sea during the Alaskan king crab and snow crab fishing seasons. The show debuted in 2005. No episodes from Meadows’ season has aired.

Deadline reported that the show was in production on its 22nd season when the incident occurred, with the Shelford-led Aleutian Lady being the last of the vessels still out at sea at the time. Production has subsequently concluded, per the outlet.

“We are deeply saddened by the tragic passing of Todd Meadows,” a Discovery Channel spokesperson said in a statement that has been widely circulated. “This is a devastating loss, and our hearts are with his loved ones, his crewmates, and the entire fishing community during this incredibly difficult time.”

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Meadows is the latest among “Deadliest Catch” cast members who have died. Previous deaths include Phil Harris, a captain of one of the ships featured on the show, who died after suffering a stroke while filming the show’s sixth season in 2010. Todd Kochutin, a crew member of the Patricia Lee, died in 2021 from injuries he sustained while aboard the fishing vessel, according to an obituary. Other cast members have died from substance abuse or natural causes.

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