Entertainment journalism is packed with splashy headlines and viral soundbites, but the best in the business bring something more: a sharp perspective, an insider’s fluency, and a real love for the craft. Miriam Spritzer is one of them. She didn’t set out to be a journalist—her background is in ballet, opera, and musical theater—but when a Brazilian TV channel needed an international correspondent, she stepped up. That leap, part boldness, part serendipity, set her on a path to covering the industry from the inside out.
Her background isn’t just a fun fact—it’s a competitive edge. She doesn’t just ask actors about their roles; she understands the technical demands of performance, the choices behind the choreography, and the unspoken language of a film set. That lets her cut through the fluff and ask the kinds of questions that make even the most media-trained stars pause and think.
In this Q&A, she breaks down the realities of arts coverage, the challenges of telling global stories, and why a little fearlessness can open the right doors. Whether she’s covering Broadway, Hollywood, or an overlooked gem, her approach stays the same: smart, thoughtful, and always in tune with the story beneath the surface.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Crouse: How did your background in the performing arts shape your approach to entertainment journalism?
Spritzer: I grew up immersed in the performing arts. I started ballet at five, was in a dance company for a while, and from there, I ventured into acting, singing, and playing instruments. I trained in opera, musical theater, and acting, but journalism wasn’t initially on my radar. When I moved to New York in 2010, I wasn’t working as a journalist yet. I had gone to business school in Brazil, where the education system is structured differently—you go straight into your field of study, whether it’s law, business, or medicine. I wanted to pursue a career in the performing arts, but coming from a family of doctors and professionals, I opted to study business alongside it.
I applied for musical theater programs outside Brazil, as the industry there was still developing. However, I decided to pursue business as a parallel path. When I moved to New York in 2010, I was studying for a professional certificate in an unrelated field but wanted to stay close to the theater world. About a year in, a Brazilian TV channel needed an international correspondent. A friend who was leaving New York recommended me, noting my background in acting and comfort on camera. I auditioned over Skype, and they hired me. Part of it was that I presented myself well, but I also suspect they didn’t have many options. It was a regional channel in Brazil, and they took a chance on me. If it didn’t work, they wouldn’t continue.
And look where that led you! It’s incredible.
Exactly! If you had asked me in 2009, I wouldn’t have said I wanted to be a journalist. Later, I went back to school to earn a journalism certificate, but when I started, I had no formal training. I had to learn how to conduct interviews, gain access to events, and navigate the industry. What I had in my favor was a lack of fear. As a teenager, when I visited New York, I’d knock on theater doors and ask to see backstage. Because I was young and eager, I often found people willing to show me around. That experience gave me insight that others might not have had.
When I began working in journalism, my network consisted of theater professionals, so I naturally started covering theater. That led me into film and TV because international media had more opportunities there. To answer your question, my background in the performing arts helps me as a journalist because I understand the language of the industry. When I interview a choreographer, I know their work and what they expect from dancers because I’ve been in that world. The same goes for actors—I may not be a great actress, but I understand the technical process of performance. That allows me to ask deeper, more meaningful questions than the generic “How did you prepare for this role?”
That’s a level of understanding that most journalists don’t have.
Totally. I had an interview with Ariana Grande about Wicked, and because I’ve studied Wicked since it premiered, I knew the history of its composers, choreographers, and costume designers. Plus, Wicked demands a different vocal technique than pop music. That context allows me to ask more insightful questions that resonate with creatives. It’s similar to how a journalist interviewing another journalist understands their profession at a deeper level, making the conversation more engaging.
What areas of the arts do you think don’t get the recognition they deserve in mainstream media?
Mainstream media is driven by clicks, access, and audience size. It’s not necessarily that niche art forms lack interest, but they don’t always generate broad appeal. Even in my own work, I see how editors prioritize the most universally appealing clips from interviews rather than the more specific, nuanced moments. That’s why Hot Ones is so popular—it asks questions talent hasn’t answered a million times. But in fast-paced journalism, the reality is that the easiest, most accessible soundbite often wins.
You’ve worked as a journalist in both Brazil and the U.S. How do you adapt your storytelling for different audiences?
One of my first roles in the U.S. was explaining Latin American events to North American and European audiences. I had to frame complex topics in ways they could relate to. For example, baseball metaphors don’t work in Brazil because we don’t follow baseball. One of my assignments was to cover the Super Bowl, a sport I barely understand. I ended up linking it to Gisele Bündchen, who was married to Tom Brady at the time and is from my home state in Brazil. That connection made the story more relevant to my audience. My job is to bridge cultural gaps. Whether I’m covering a Brazilian film for an American audience or vice versa, I have to make it accessible and compelling.
What role do you think arts and entertainment play in global conversations?
A huge role. During the pandemic, people who once dismissed the arts suddenly realized how much they relied on them. Streaming skyrocketed, and everyone missed museums, concerts, and live theater. People criticize cultural products without acknowledging the work behind them. I’ve had countless conversations with people who think Broadway is just Phantom, Les Mis, and The Lion King. But there are 41 theaters showcasing a vast range of work.
And you’re in a unique position to reveal that hidden world to people.
I am. I saw this with Emilia Pérez, a French film set in Mexico. Latin Americans criticized it, especially because it was competing with Brazil’s Oscar entry. But if you look at early reviews, it was well received. As a journalist, my job is to assess it for what it is, not get caught in online debates. Not every film is a movement—some are just entertainment.
What inspired your Cultural Quarantine project?
During the pandemic, I noticed people were desperate for content. Broadway shut down, film productions paused, and the arts world was in crisis. I started curating online events—fundraisers, streaming performances, and talks with industry professionals. That led to deeper connections with organizations like the Chelsea Film Festival. I saw it as a way to support the arts and give people a much-needed escape.
That’s amazing. What advice do you have for young women trying to break into this industry?
Be fearless. Ask questions. Knock on doors. The worst that can happen is someone says no. I used to take rejections personally, but I realized that a no doesn’t mean failure—it just means you weren’t the right fit for that moment. Out of ten closed doors, one will open. I’ve helped countless interns get opportunities because they reached out. I believe in paying it forward, just as others did for me.
That brings me to my last question. Here at Worth, our motto is Worth Beyond Wealth. What does that mean to you?
For me, it’s all about people. My mentor once told me, “Your network is your gold.” That’s true both in business and in life. I moved to New York knowing no one, and my community became my wealth. Diversity of thought and experience enriches everything, from storytelling to human connection. Having access to different perspectives makes my world bigger, and I try to bring that into everything I do.
Across the board, diversity of opinion and thought generally only improves things.
Absolutely. I was at a documentary awards event recently, speaking with two composers—one Eastern European, one American—alongside an Argentinian fine artist. Someone made a comment about politics that was completely uncontroversial in New York, but I laughed because I knew if the same comment were made in Latin America, the reaction would be completely different.
We assume everyone around us thinks the same way, but that’s not always the case. Cultural diversity affects even the smallest things—like how people express themselves. In Brazil, we’re naturally expressive and affectionate, while my European friends tend to be more reserved. Neither is better, but understanding these nuances makes our world bigger and our interactions more meaningful.
