Don’t worry, Hollywood. When Latinos tell Latinos’ stories, everyone ‘gets it’ | Opinion
I’d never had a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto. I’m Cuban, we don’t do “heat” in our food. Mexican and Cuban cuisine, much like our immigrant experiences, could not be farther apart. And yet, as I watched Eva Longoria’s phenomenal directorial debut, “Flamin’ Hot,” I related to every frame of the film. Our experiences in this country may be different, but our grit, work ethic and joyful determination are exactly the same.
Latino projects usually focus on identity to the point of insularity, making them incredibly boring. I don’t blame their creators; as a writer and actor, I know what they go through to get produced. I blame the “But will they get it?” syndrome even the most well meaning executives suffer from when it comes to the work of Latinos.
It’s an attitude I’ve never understood. Audiences “get” aliens, endless British drawing-room dramas and movies about elves, but outside of Latino trauma porn every decade or so, our stories are a bridge too far? It’s an exhausting attitude used to cover up a glaring truth. “They” will get it, if “you” let us tell it the way only “we” can. Case in point, “Flamin’ Hot.”
Led by Longoria, these Chicano storytellers didn’t have to do the obligatory box-checking that mires down great storytelling, freeing them up to dive into the specificity of their lived experience. Chicano humor and fight are a launching pad for the story, not a means to an end. And it works, brilliantly.
Unapologetic, comfortable in its complication and joyful — from the ugly racism that marked Richard Montañez early in life to the beautiful relationship with his wife that saved him — every beat in the movie feels authentic. The Montañezes navigate through their life without feeling the need to explain their existence. No preaching or neediness, just an immediacy that has you rooting for the characters from the moment you meet them. Not because they tick off a recognizable Latino trope, but because they shred them, replacing them with sincere and full expressions of who these people are.
What Longoria and team achieved is no small feat. Our country models its self image on what Hollywood produces, even if it is diametrically opposed to all evidence to the contrary. How else could presidential candidates get away with using our communities as props in political stunts? But “Flamin’ Hot” comes at you with a smile, turning every ugly talking point and vilification on its head. Ultimately, it dares you to reject what’s best about our country. That thing that truly gives the United States its superpower status — the promise of pursuing happiness.
I watched “Flamin’ Hot” in a movie theater filled with Miamians of every race, age and nationality in the Western hemisphere. Immigrants, first gens, Cubans, Venezuelans, Mexicans, Nicaraguans, Ecuadorians, the list goes on. All of us with vastly different backgrounds and experiences and yet we all laughed together, dried that tear rolling down our cheeks and leapt to our feet to applaud Longoria and cast as they returned to the theater after the movie ended. Each one of us felt seen.
French director Louis Garrel said the best advice he ever got about filmmaking was that a movie should make you want to go out and live. The next day I went and bought a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, opened up my laptop and got back to work on my screenplay. It’s amazing what a little fire can set off.
Longoria and team have put fearful executives in a terrible position. “Flamin’ Hot” is the exception that proves the rule: When Latino stories are told by Latinos, they are undeniable. Not only will audiences get them, like a great snack, they will always want more.
Carmen Pelaez is a writer and filmmaker.
