Diego Luna was a star in his native Mexico before the brilliant and sordid 2001 Alfonso Cuaron drama Y Tu Mama Tambien introduced him to U.S. audiences. But for a while, at least, it seemed like the movie that made him famous might also be the last good one he made. While his co-star, Gael Garcia Bernal, made a string of top-shelf dramas, Luna appeared in the heist flop, Criminal, and salsaed his way through Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights. His latest film, the boxing documentary Chavez, rescues Luna from his slump. And this time he isn't just an actor. He's the director, too.

Chavez, which had its world premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival, is the story of Mexican boxer Julio Cesar Chavez, who had a tremendous undefeated run in the '80s and '90s. For a year and a half, Luna followed him and his son, also a boxer, catching them inside the ring and, far more fascinating, after the final bell. He spoke with Nerve while he was in New York City for the film's debut. — Sarah Hepola

I was in the theater lobby when you and Gael Garcia Bernal came in front of the paparrazzi. The cameramen were yelling at you so loud, it was almost scary.
Yeah, that was the craziest ever. Maybe it was because I was hungover. But I had the feeling they were angry at me. I don't know why they'd be angry. We were on time. We gave everyone a picture.

At one point, you started jokingly yelling back at one of the cameramen.
I think sometimes they don't realize how rude they're being. I've been waiting three years for this movie to happen. I care more than they do. I flew five hours and slept four hours last night, and it was kind of bizarre.

You said you were hungover. What did you do after the screening last night?
I had an amazing party! The movie went perfectly, and I was the happiest man in New York.

Were you more nervous than you normally are at a screening?
It's very different. When you're an actor you always get nervous, but this is a different nervousness. It's the closest thing to being a father. You're there from when the movie is born and until the movie dies. So today is an amazing feeling. For the first time I feel like I really own something.

Why did you want to make a documentary about Julio Cesar Chavez?
I was a huge fan of him when I was a kid. It also reminds me of a very important time in my country. Bad things were happening, everything started to go wrong. I remember kind of becoming a man, in a way, and Julio was there. So it was a chance to talk about myself and my country and it was a great opportunity to honor someone who is still alive.

Why did he mean so much to you as a kid?
It was the only good news we were getting. I never saw him lose, for fourteen years almost. That's unbelievable. My country was so polarized, and Julio was the guy who united the country. Rich and poor, left and right, everyone was cheering for him.

Was he what you expected?
I didn't think he was going to be as sweet as he is. He's a sweet man, and very charismatic.

He had a troubled marriage that ended in divorce, but you chose to focus on the relationship between him and his son instead. Why?
There's nothing more important than my relationship with my father. And it is what makes Julio a real person in the film. It is what makes him a normal guy, and I wanted people to relate to him.

What did Chavez think of the film?
I think he liked it. It's not easy to see yourself like that. He showed a lot of maturity because he watched the film and then at the end, he said, 'It's true. It's beautiful. Thank you very much.' That was the word he used. Bonito.

I mean, you have him in vulnerable moments. You have him angry, hurt, crying. It must have been nerve-wracking wondering what he was going to think of it.
I had probably considered every possibility. I'd thought about getting out of the country. You don't want to piss off the best boxer in Mexican history. I had the movie ready a few days ago but I was trying to show it to him the right way. I wanted to have a big theater. It wasn't like that. It had to be in a little TV in his house. After what he said, I had the first good night of sleep I'd had in months.

Are you a boxer?
Oh, nooo. I trained for three days to understand what they go through. But it wasn't my sport. I play football.

Have you ever taken a punch?
The last fight I had was probably when I was seven years old. I'm the kind of guy who runs away from fights.

So what appeals to you about boxing then?
I guess it's one thing to watch it and another thing to do it. It's a very powerful sport and it takes you to the basic things about human experience. Everything comes from your inside. It doesn't matter if you know who's fighting, you're watching him suffer and endure. You may not even know who he is, but in that moment, you feel as though he could be your brother. And boxing is very cinematic too. And movies should be like thoughts. They should stay in your mind.

There's something of a cultural explosion in Mexico City right now. Abortion was recently legalized, there's more of a gay presence. What's going on?
There are good things happening. Not as fast as I'd like, but there are. People are tired of not being asked what they want. Everyone's getting more active and people are starting to wake up, which makes me feel very lucky to be part of this and to live today. It's not just now, either. It's been like that for the last ten to twelve years.

Y Tu Mama Tambien is one of my favorite movies. But I never really understood the significance of the title. What does it mean to you?
It's something we say a lot in Mexico. If I say — well, I would never say this to you, but if I said this to the guy who is walking past us right now — if I said, "Hey, you're an asshole!" He'd say, "Eh, y tu mama tambien!" Because in Mexico, it's the worst thing to say. You just cannot mess with people's mothers. So it says a lot about where the guys come from. I think it's a brilliant moment near the end when the character says he fucked his mother, too. You don't know if it's a joke. It doesn't matter anymore. They already forgive each other. Once you can forgive that, you can pretty much forgive anything.

http://www.nervepop.com/filmlounge/interview/diegoluna/index.aspx