Paz Vega: The Life Story Behind Spain's Fiery Star

Paz Vega was twenty-five when Lucía y el sexo made her famous, and the film is still the centre of her story, the role against which every other role is measured. She was born on 2 January 1976 in Seville, as María de la Paz Campos Trigo, and she grew up in Andalusia, in a city of flamenco, of orange trees, of heat, and she learned to act at the Centro Andaluz de Teatro, a drama school in Seville, and she moved to Madrid, where she became a television star, in Compañeros and in 7 vidas, and then she became Lucía, a woman in Madrid who loves, who loses, who writes, and who is, in Julio Medem’s film, a portrait of desire itself. The career that followed took her to Hollywood, to Spanglish, to The Spirit, to The OA, and back to Spain, to Fugitiva, to directing, and the journey is the story of a woman from Seville who became an international actress, and who did it by working, by taking risks, and by refusing to be a label.

Seville, 1976: A Childhood in Andalusia

Paz Vega was born in Seville in 1976, when Spain was a new democracy, when Andalusia was finding its voice, and when Seville was a city of tradition and of change, a city where flamenco is not a show but a life, where the streets smell of orange blossom in spring, and where a girl who wants to act can dream of it without leaving home. She grew up in a family that was not in the theatre, a family that supported her, and she has described her childhood as happy and ordinary, with school, with friends, and with a growing love of performance that she discovered for herself. The Seville beginning matters, because Vega has never lost the sense of being from Andalusia: she is Sevillian, she speaks with an Andalusian warmth, and she has kept her connection to the south even as her career took her to Madrid, to Hollywood, and to the rest of the world.

The Andalusian identity also matters because it gives her acting a quality that is distinct: a warmth, a directness, a sensuality that is not performed but lived, and the quality is visible in Lucía, in Carmen, in Flor in Spanglish, women who are passionate, who are strong, who are not afraid to feel. The city is the anchor, the place she comes from, and the anchor holds, even when the fame pulls hard, even when she is performing in Los Angeles or in New York, and the audience that knows her best knows that she is still the girl from Seville who fell in love with acting and decided to learn it properly.

Centro Andaluz de Teatro and the Move to Madrid

Vega studied acting at the Centro Andaluz de Teatro in Seville, a drama school that trains actors in the Andalusian tradition, in classical Spanish theatre, in contemporary work, and in the discipline of the stage, and the training was serious, it was physical, and it gave her the tools she would use for the rest of her life. The school also gave her a sense of acting as a craft, as something that is learned, practised, and perfected, and not as a fame that is given. She learned voice, movement, text, and the discipline of rehearsal, and she learned it in Seville, in a school that is proud of its Andalusian identity, and the pride is part of her acting: she is a Sevillian actress, and she is proud of it.

After drama school she moved to Madrid, as every young Spanish actor does, and she began to audition, to take small parts, to work in television, and to learn the profession from the inside. Madrid is a hard city for a young actor, and it is harder for a young woman from Seville, because the roles on offer are often stereotypes, the Andalusian girl, the passionate woman, and Vega had to decide which roles to take and which to refuse. She took the small roles, she learned, and she waited, and the waiting was not passive; it was active, it was a time of study, of watching, of preparing for the role that would come. The role came in television, and television gave her a career.

Compañeros, 7 vidas and Television Fame

Vega’s first fame came from television, and it came in Madrid. She appeared in Compañeros, a popular Antena 3 series about a group of teenagers, in which she played Laura, and the role gave her a young audience, and a working life, and it taught her how to sustain a character over many episodes, how to work with a large ensemble, and how to handle the attention of fans. She then joined 7 vidas, one of the most popular Spanish comedy series, in which she played Lucía, a role that made her a household name in Spain, a woman the audience laughed with, a woman who was funny, who was warm, and who was, in many ways, the heart of the show. The series ran for years, and Vega’s Lucía became a beloved character, and the love is the proof of her comic talent, a talent that film audiences, who know her as the dramatic Lucía of Medem’s film, sometimes forget.

The television years were not wasted years, even though some film critics treated them as a reason not to take her seriously. Vega learned how to work a camera, how to use her face, how to time a joke, and how to recover from a mistake, and she learned it in front of millions of people, every week, live. She also learned what it means to be watched, to be judged on her appearance and her voice, and to keep going anyway, and that knowledge is visible in her later performances, which often play women who are being watched and judged. The television actress became a film actress, and the film actress never forgot the television years, because they taught her how to work, and how to be funny, and how to be loved by an audience.

Lucía y el sexo: The Breakthrough

The role that made Vega a film star came in 2001, in Lucía y el sexo, released in English as Sex and Lucia, directed by Julio Medem, in which she played Lucía, a waitress in Madrid who, after the death of her lover Lorenzo, a writer, travels to an island in the Mediterranean, and who tries to understand his life, his writing, and her own desire. The film is a puzzle, it is erotic, it is poetic, it is about love, about loss, about the stories we tell ourselves, and Vega’s performance is at the centre of it: she plays Lucía as a woman who is passionate, who is curious, who is not afraid to want, and who is, in the end, a writer herself, a woman who tells her own story. The performance won her the Goya for Best New Actress, and the film was a success in Spain and abroad, and it made Vega an international actress, a woman whose face was known in France, in Italy, in the United States.

Lucía matters because it is a film about a woman’s desire, told from a woman’s point of view, and Vega plays the desire without shame, without apology, and with a honesty that is rare. The film’s eroticism is not a decoration; it is the subject, it is about how a woman loves, how she wants, how she loses, and Vega’s performance is the proof that an actress can play desire and still be a serious actress, that the body is not separate from the mind, and that the two together are the character. The Goya was the recognition, but the performance is the thing, and it remains one of the best debut leading performances in Spanish cinema.

Hable con ella, Carmen and the Spanish Films

After Lucía, Vega worked in Spanish film, in roles that were serious, that were varied, and that showed her range. In 2002 she appeared in Hable con ella, released in English as Talk to Her, directed by Pedro Almodóvar, in which she played Amparo, a small role, but a role in a film by the most important Spanish director, and the appearance mattered, because it showed that Almodóvar trusted her, that he saw her as part of his world, and that she belonged in it. In 2003 she starred in Carmen, directed by Vicente Aranda, in which she played Carmen, the gypsy woman from Prosper Mérimée’s novella and Bizet’s opera, a woman who is passionate, who is free, who loves and who dies, and the role is one of the great roles in Spanish culture, a woman who is Andalusian, who is sensual, and who is doomed, and Vega played her as a Sevillian, as a woman who understands Carmen from the inside, because Carmen is from Seville, and Vega is from Seville, and the understanding is the performance.

The Spanish films matter because they show Vega as a Spanish actress, a woman who works in her own cinema, in her own language, and who is at home in it. Carmen is the clearest example: the role could have been a cliché, a passionate gypsy, and Vega makes her a person, a woman who is strong, who is funny, who is afraid, and who is, in the end, a victim of a man who cannot let her be free. The performance is built on the Andalusian identity, on the warmth, on the directness, and the audience in Spain recognised it, because they saw a woman from Seville playing a woman from Seville, and the recognition is the pleasure.

Spanglish and Hollywood

In 2004 Vega made her Hollywood debut in Spanglish, directed by James L. Brooks, in which she played Flor Moreno, a Mexican woman who, with her daughter Cristina, goes to work as a housekeeper for an American family in Los Angeles, the Claskys, played by Adam Sandler and Téa Leoni, and who must navigate a world that is not hers, a language that is not hers, and a family that is falling apart. The film is a comedy and a drama, it is about immigration, about class, about motherhood, and Vega’s performance is at the centre of it: she plays Flor as a woman who is proud, who is dignified, who speaks little English, and who communicates with her face, with her body, with her silence, and the silence is the performance, because the audience understands Flor even when it does not understand her words. The film was a success, and Vega’s performance was praised for its restraint, for its dignity, and for the way she played a Mexican woman as a Spanish actress, with respect, and without caricature.

Spanglish matters because it introduced Vega to an American audience, and it proved that she could work in Hollywood, in English, in a film that is about America, and be as good as she was in Spanish. The role also showed her range: Flor is nothing like Lucía, she is quiet where Lucía is loud, she is a mother where Lucía is a lover, and Vega plays the quietness with a precision that Lucía never needed. The Hollywood debut was a success, and it opened doors, and Vega took the doors, and she worked in American film and television, in The Spirit, in Triage, in The OA, and the work is part of her career, not the whole of it, because she kept her base in Spain, working in Spanish film and television, and the balance is deliberate.

The Spirit, Triage and the American Films

In 2008 Vega appeared in The Spirit, directed by Frank Miller, in which she played Plaster of Paris, a villain, a woman who is elegant, who is dangerous, who is a dancer, and the role was a supporting one in a comic-book film, a film that is visual, that is stylised, and that gave Vega a chance to play a villain, a woman who is not good, who is not sympathetic, and who is fun to watch. The film was not a critical success, but the role mattered for Vega, because it showed that she could play a villain, that she could be elegant and dangerous, and that Hollywood saw her as a woman who could be more than a housekeeper, more than a mother, and the seeing is the point.

In 2009 she appeared in Triage, directed by Danis Tanović, in which she played Elena, a woman whose husband, a photographer, returns from Iraq changed, and the film is a drama about war, about trauma, about a marriage, and Vega’s performance is quiet, it is restrained, and it shows that she could play a woman who is waiting, who is worried, who is trying to hold her family together. The American films are a chapter, not the whole book, and Vega’s work in them is professional, committed, and honest, even when the film is not, and the honesty is the mark of a serious actress, a woman who does the work, whatever the film.

The OA, Fugitiva and Television Again

In 2016 Vega joined the cast of The OA, a Netflix series created by Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij, in which she played Renata, a woman who is part of a group of people who are trying to understand a mysterious woman, Prairie, and the series is strange, it is ambitious, it is about parallel worlds, about death, about love, and Vega’s Renata is a woman who is tough, who is funny, who is a survivor, and the performance is a reminder that Vega is a television actress as well as a film actress, a woman who can sustain a character over many episodes, and who can do it in English, in an American series, with a large ensemble. The series ran for two seasons, and it developed a devoted following, and Vega’s work in it was praised for its warmth, for its humour, and for the way she made Renata a real person in a strange world.

In 2018 she starred in Fugitiva, a TVE series, in which she played Magda, a woman who, with her children, flees from her husband, a man who is violent, and who tries to start a new life, and the series is a thriller, it is a drama about domestic violence, about a mother protecting her children, and Vega’s performance is at the centre of it, a woman who is afraid, who is brave, and who is determined. The role is a long way from Lucía, and the distance is the point: Vega, in her forties, was playing a mother, a woman who is protecting her children, and the motherhood is the performance, because Vega is herself a mother, and she understands what it means to protect a child, and the understanding is visible in every scene.

Grace of Monaco and Maria Callas

In 2014 Vega appeared in Grace of Monaco, directed by Olivier Dahan, in which she played Maria Callas, the great opera singer, a woman who was a friend of Grace Kelly, and who is, in the film, a small but memorable presence, a woman who is elegant, who is sad, who is a legend, and Vega plays her with a respect, a stillness, and a voice that is not Callas’s, but that suggests her, and the suggestion is the performance. The film was controversial, it was criticised, and Vega’s performance in it, though small, was praised, because she made Callas a person, not a caricature, a woman who is tired, who is lonely, and who is still a diva, and the diva is the point: Callas was a diva, and Vega, who grew up in Seville, who knows what a diva is, plays her as such, with a dignity that is real.

The role matters because it shows Vega’s range in a different register: she is not playing a Sevillian woman, she is playing a Greek opera singer, a woman who is world-famous, and she does it without imitation, without trying to sound like Callas, and the not trying is the performance. The film is a reminder that Vega is an actress who can play real people, who can play legends, and who can do it with respect, and the respect is the mark of a serious actress, a woman who takes her work seriously, even when the film does not.

Rita and the Director

In 2024 Vega directed her first feature film, Rita, a film about a young girl in Seville in the 1980s, a girl who grows up in a difficult family, and who tries to understand the world around her, and the film is a personal one, a story about Seville, about childhood, about a girl who is like Vega herself, and the directing is the latest chapter in her career, a woman who has acted for thirty years and who now wants to tell her own stories, in her own way. The film premiered to praise in Spain, and it showed that Vega is not just an actress, but a director, a woman who understands a story, who knows how to tell it, and who trusts her actors, and the trust is the point: a director who has been an actress knows what an actor needs, and Vega gives it, because she has been there.

The directing matters because it is a new beginning, a woman in her late forties who is starting a second career, and who is doing it in Seville, in her own city, with her own story. The film is a love letter to Seville, to childhood, to the Andalusia that made her, and the love is visible in every frame, in the light, in the streets, in the faces, and the audience that watches Rita sees a director who knows her subject, because she lived it, and the living is the film. Vega has said that directing is the future, and the future is open, and the audience should expect more films from her, more stories about Seville, about women, about the south, and the expectation is a happy one.

Family, Orson Salazar and the Private Life

Vega has been married to Orson Salazar, a Venezuelan actor, since 2002, and the couple have three children, Orson, Ava and Lenon, and they have lived between Madrid and Los Angeles, and they have supported each other’s work, and the partnership is one of the longest in Spanish cinema. She keeps her private life private, she does not share it on social media in detail, and she lets the work speak, and the choice is a statement: the actress is not the gossip, and the gossip is not the art. The family is the anchor, the place she returns to after the filming, after the festivals, after the fame, and the anchor holds, even when the career pulls hard, even when she is in Hollywood, even when she is directing in Seville.

She remains close to her family in Seville, and she has spoken about her mother, about the importance of home, and about the need to protect her children from the public eye. Vega is now in her late forties, she has a career that spans thirty years, she has a Goya, she has Hollywood films, she has a Netflix series, she has a directorial debut, and she has the freedom to choose her next work, and the choices she has made suggest that she will keep choosing work that interests her, keep directing, keep acting, and keep building a career that is hers.

The Sevillian, the Actress and the Director

Vega’s place in Spanish cinema is secure, and it is a place that no one else occupies. She is Lucía, she is Carmen, she is Flor, she is Magda, she is Rita’s director, and the five roles together are the portrait of a woman who is Sevillian, who is passionate, who is strong, and who is an artist. She has shown that a woman from Seville can become an international actress, that a television star can become a film star, that an actress can become a director, and the showing is the achievement. The legacy is not just the films; it is the permission she gives to other Andalusian women, to act, to direct, to tell their own stories, and the permission is the gift, and it will last.

The Legacy of Lucía and Spanglish

The legacy of Vega’s career is Lucía and Spanglish, two performances that are now part of cinema history, two women who are passionate, who are strong, and who are played with a honesty that is rare, and the two together are the proof of her talent. The audience that watches Lucía y el sexo now still believes in Lucía, still feels her desire, still understands her loss, and the believing is the legacy, and it will last. The audience that watches Spanglish still remembers Flor, still feels her dignity, still understands her silence, and the remembering is the legacy, and it will last, because great performances do not fade, they grow, and Vega’s performances have grown, year after year, into the classics they are.

My Take:

The first thing to say about Paz Vega is that Lucía is a woman who wants, and the wanting is the film. Lucía y el sexo is about a woman’s desire, told from a woman’s point of view, and Vega plays the desire without shame, without apology, and with a honesty that is rare. The film’s eroticism is not a decoration; it is the subject, it is about how a woman loves, how she wants, how she loses, and Vega’s performance is the proof that an actress can play desire and still be a serious actress, that the body is not separate from the mind, and that the two together are the character. The Goya for Best New Actress was the recognition, but the performance is the thing, and it remains one of the best debut leading performances in Spanish cinema.

The second thing is the Andalusian warmth, and how it shapes the acting. Vega is from Seville, she speaks with an Andalusian warmth, she is passionate, she is direct, she is sensual, and the quality is not performed but lived, and it is visible in Lucía, in Carmen, in Flor, women who are strong, who feel deeply, and who are not afraid to show it. The warmth is the gift of Seville, of a city where flamenco is a life, where the streets smell of orange blossom, and where a woman who wants to act can dream of it, and the dreaming is the foundation. The audience hears the warmth in her voice, sees it in her face, and knows, at once, that this is Paz Vega, and that there is no one else like her.

The third thing is the television years, and how they taught her to work. Vega became famous on television, in Compañeros and in 7 vidas, and the television work taught her how to sustain a character, how to time a joke, how to work with a large ensemble, and how to be loved by an audience. The film world sometimes dismisses television, and Vega’s career proves that the dismissal is wrong: the television actress became a film actress, and the film actress never forgot the television years, because they taught her how to work, and how to be funny, and how to be loved. The comedy of 7 vidas is part of her, and the drama of Lucía is part of her, and the two together are the actress.

The fourth thing is Carmen, and the Sevillian playing a Sevillian. Carmen is a gypsy woman from Seville, and Vega is from Seville, and the understanding is the performance: she plays Carmen as a woman she knows, a woman who is passionate, who is free, who loves and who dies, and the playing is not a cliché, it is a person. The role could have been a stereotype, a passionate gypsy, and Vega makes her a woman, a woman who is strong, who is funny, who is afraid, and who is, in the end, a victim of a man who cannot let her be free. The performance is built on the Andalusian identity, on the warmth, on the directness, and the audience in Spain recognised it, because they saw a woman from Seville playing a woman from Seville.

The fifth thing is Spanglish, and the silence. Vega plays Flor Moreno, a Mexican woman who speaks little English, and who communicates with her face, with her body, with her silence, and the silence is the performance, because the audience understands Flor even when it does not understand her words. The role is a difficult one, because an actress who cannot speak must act with her body, and Vega does, with a dignity, a restraint, and a precision that are remarkable. The film was a success, and Vega’s performance was praised, because she played a Mexican woman as a Spanish actress, with respect, and without caricature, and the respect is the mark of a serious actress.

The sixth thing is The OA, and the return to television. Vega played Renata in the Netflix series, a woman who is tough, who is funny, who is a survivor, and the performance is a reminder that she is a television actress as well as a film actress, a woman who can sustain a character over many episodes, in English, in an American series. The series is strange, it is about parallel worlds, and Vega’s Renata is the anchor, the real person in a strange world, and the anchoring is the performance. The return to television, after Hollywood, after film, shows that Vega does not see television as a step down, but as a medium, and that she will work where the good roles are, whether they are in film or in television.

The seventh thing is Fugitiva, and the mother. Vega played Magda, a woman who flees from a violent husband with her children, and who tries to start a new life, and the performance is at the centre of the series, a woman who is afraid, who is brave, and who is determined. The role is a long way from Lucía, and the distance is the point: Vega, in her forties, was playing a mother, a woman who is protecting her children, and the motherhood is the performance, because Vega is herself a mother, and she understands what it means to protect a child, and the understanding is visible in every scene. The series is a drama about domestic violence, and Vega’s performance gives it a dignity, a honesty, that makes it more than a thriller.

The eighth thing is Rita, and the director. Vega directed her first feature in 2024, a film about a young girl in Seville in the 1980s, and the directing is a new beginning, a woman in her late forties who is starting a second career, in her own city, with her own story. The film is a love letter to Seville, to childhood, to the Andalusia that made her, and the love is visible in every frame. The directing matters because it shows that Vega is not just an actress, but an artist, a woman who understands a story, who knows how to tell it, and who trusts her actors, because she has been one. The future, as a director, is open, and the audience should expect more films from her, more stories about Seville, about women, about the south.

The ninth thing is the body, and how Vega uses it. She is a beautiful woman, and her body has been photographed, and her best work uses her beauty as a problem rather than as a gift. In Lucía her beauty is a source of desire, in Carmen it is a source of danger, in Spanglish it is almost irrelevant, because Flor’s beauty does not help her, and Vega plays the irrelevance with a dignity that is real. The body is not the performance; the performance is what she does with the body, and what she does is to make it human, to make it complicated, and to refuse to let it be simple. The refusal is the mark of a serious actress.

The tenth thing is the voice, and how it carries the performance. Vega’s voice is Andalusian, it is warm, it is direct, and it can be passionate and quiet in the same scene. In Lucía the voice is loud, it is the voice of a woman who wants, and in Spanglish the voice is quiet, it is the voice of a woman who cannot speak English, and the quietness is the performance. The voice is the instrument, and Vega plays it well, and the audience hears the difference between the two women even before it sees them, which is a kind of acting that the camera cannot fake.

The eleventh thing is the privacy, and the boundary she keeps. Vega keeps her private life private, she does not share it on social media in detail, and she lets the work speak, and the choice is a statement: the actress is not the gossip, and the gossip is not the art. The woman who plays characters who are watched, who are judged, who are followed, is herself a woman who wants a private life, and she protects it. The boundary is healthy, and it is also useful, because it means that when Vega appears on screen, the audience sees the character, not the celebrity, and that is a rarer and more valuable thing than it used to be.

The twelfth thing is the age, and the maturity. Vega was twenty-five when Lucía y el sexo came out, and she is now in her late forties, and the performances have grown with her: Lucía was a young woman, Flor was a mother, Magda was a mother protecting her children, and each role shows a different age, a different maturity, and the maturity is the actress’s, not just the character’s. The later work is better because the actress is older, because she has lived more, because she has learned more, and the learning shows. The audience that watches Fugitiva is watching a mature actress, a woman who has spent thirty years learning her craft, and the craft is visible in every scene.

The thirteenth thing is the range, and how wide it is. Lucía and Flor have nothing in common: one is a waitress in Madrid who wants, the other is a housekeeper in Los Angeles who cannot speak English, and the same actress played both, and played both well. The range is not a trick; it is a discipline, the discipline of a woman who learned at the Centro Andaluz de Teatro, who worked in television, in film, in Hollywood, and who never lets one role bleed into the next. The audience that watches Lucía y el sexo and then watches Spanglish is watching two different women, and the fact that they are the same actress is the point. Vega’s range is the range of a serious artist, and it is rare.

The fourteenth thing is the future, and what it might hold. Vega is in her late forties, she has a Goya, she has Hollywood films, she has a Netflix series, she has a directorial debut, and she has the freedom to choose, and the choices she has made suggest that she will keep directing, keep acting, and keep building a career that is hers. The audience should expect more films like Rita, more stories about Seville, about women, about the south, and the expectation is a happy one, because Vega has earned it. The girl from Seville who played Lucía became a director, and the becoming is not over.

The fifteenth thing is the influence, and how it is already visible. Young Andalusian actresses cite Vega as an influence, young women see that a woman from Seville can become an international actress, can become a director, and the seeing is the influence. The influence is not a matter of copying; it is a matter of permission, of Vega giving other artists permission to be Sevillian and global, to be passionate and serious, to be themselves. The permission is the gift, and it is a gift that will last longer than any single film, because it changes what other artists believe is possible.

The sixteenth thing is the legacy, and what it will be. Vega’s legacy is Lucía and Spanglish, two performances that are now part of cinema history, two women who are passionate, who are strong, and who are played with a honesty that is rare, and the two together are the proof of her talent. The legacy is not just the films; it is the proof that a woman from Seville can become an international actress, that a television star can become a film star, that an actress can become a director, and that the work, done patiently, is the way. The audience that watches Lucía now still believes in her, still feels her desire, and the believing is the legacy, and it will last.

The seventeenth thing, and the last, is the lesson. Vega’s career says that a girl from Seville can become an international actress, that a television star can become a film star, and that the work, done patiently over decades, is the way. She studied in Seville, she moved to Madrid, she played Lucía, she played Carmen, she played Flor, she directed Rita, and she never stopped, and the never stopping is the point. The lesson is not that talent will always be recognised, but that the work, done with honesty and with warmth, is its own reward, and that the reward, when it comes, is deserved. Vega’s reward has come, in the form of a Goya, of a global audience, of a career that is hers, and the audience that watches her now knows that it is watching a great actress, and that the greatness was earned, in Seville, in Madrid, in Los Angeles, and in every film where she refused to be a label and became an actress instead.

Frequently Asked Questions

What was Paz Vega’s breakthrough film?

Lucía y el sexo (Sex and Lucia), directed by Julio Medem in 2001, in which she played Lucía, a waitress in Madrid who travels to a Mediterranean island after her lover’s death. She won the Goya for Best New Actress for the role.

Where was Paz Vega born?

She was born on 2 January 1976 in Seville, in Andalusia, Spain, as María de la Paz Campos Trigo, and she studied acting at the Centro Andaluz de Teatro in Seville before moving to Madrid.

Who did Paz Vega play in Spanglish?

She played Flor Moreno, a Mexican housekeeper who goes to work for an American family in Los Angeles, in James L. Brooks’s film Spanglish from 2004, her Hollywood debut, in which she communicates largely through her face and silence because Flor speaks little English.

What role did Paz Vega play in Carmen?

She played Carmen, the gypsy woman from Mérimée’s novella and Bizet’s opera, in Vicente Aranda’s film Carmen from 2003, a role that suited her as a Sevillian actress playing a woman from Seville.

What is Rita by Paz Vega?

Rita is Vega’s directorial debut, a feature film released in 2024 about a young girl growing up in Seville in the 1980s, a personal story about childhood and Andalusia that she directed in her own city.

Who did Paz Vega play in The OA?

She played Renata, a tough and funny survivor who is part of a group trying to understand the mysterious Prairie, in the Netflix series The OA, which ran for two seasons from 2016.