Flamin’ Hot – first-look review

A fiery crowd-pleas­er pre­mier­ing at this year’s SXSW, Eva Longoria’s fea­ture direc­to­r­i­al debut Flamin’ Hot adds even more spice to the heat­ed rags-to-rich­es sto­ry of Richard Mon­tañez, a jan­i­tor-turned-exec­u­tive at PepsiCo.

In his mem­oir of the same name, Mon­tañez recounts how he invent­ed the recipe for pop­u­lar spicy corn chip Flamin’ Hot Chee­tos while clean­ing the snack machines at a Frito-Lay plant. In Flamin’ Hot, writ­ers Lin­da Yvette Chávez and Lewis Col­ick dra­ma­tize Montañez’s auto­bi­og­ra­phy for the big screen with cohe­sion and clar­i­ty, while Lon­go­ria flex­es her direc­to­r­i­al mus­cles with tech­ni­cal flair and genre transformations.

The film chron­i­cles Richard/​Ricky (Jesse Garcia)’s rise to suc­cess that spans over three decades: the late 1960s and the 70s grow­ing up in east Los Ange­les, hus­tling in school by sell­ing bur­ri­tos to his white class­mates; the 80s when he escapes gang life to work at Frito-Lay where he learns from its mechan­i­cal engi­neers; and final­ly the 90s when he cooks up the recipe for Flamin’ Hot Chee­tos that basi­cal­ly saves the com­pa­ny from reces­sions and layoffs.

While Garcia’s infec­tious, hap­py-go-lucky voiceover nar­ra­tions guide us through Ricky’s enthralling jour­ney to the cor­po­rate top, edi­tor Kay­la Emter (who pre­vi­ous­ly worked on Lorene Scafaria’s Hustlers)’s daz­zling, fast-paced inter­cuts seam­less­ly inter­weave the charm­ing protagonist’s fam­i­ly life and career endeav­ors. Blessed with a resilient Lati­no ensem­ble cast that com­mands both tears and laugh­ter at will, Longoria’s exe­cu­tion com­plete­ly match­es her ambi­tion in craft­ing an affect­ing dram­e­dy that cham­pi­ons part­ner­ships and heritage.

The film chan­nels the sen­ti­men­tal spir­it of a telen­ov­ela to depict the Mon­tañez household’s every­day life sat­u­rat­ed with mun­dane joys – even at times when they have trou­ble putting food on the table. Ricky’s wife Judy, played by the delight­ful and mer­cu­r­ial Annie Gon­za­lez, is a force to be reck­oned with – either cheer­ing him up when he wal­lows, or becom­ing the voice of rea­son when he waivers. Lon­go­ria makes sure to fore­ground Judy as Ricky’s equal in their inven­tion of Flamin’ Hot Chee­tos – giv­ing Gon­za­lez a meaty role to show­case her dra­mat­ic range.

At the core of Flamin’ Hot is indeed a Mex­i­can ver­sion of the nuclear fam­i­ly that takes pride in their culi­nary cul­tures with a uni­ver­sal sense of belong­ing. Upon this famil­ial cor­ner­stone, Lon­go­ria builds up a mul­ti­tude of socio-eco­nom­ic nar­ra­tives, notably the gen­er­a­tional trau­mas derived from sys­temic dis­crim­i­na­tions and per­se­cu­tions among the Latin Amer­i­can com­mu­ni­ty, and the arti­fi­cial dreams of cor­po­rate Amer­i­ca that dis­il­lu­sion the work­ing class.

Around the hap­py end­ing of Ricky’s sto­ry of excep­tion­al­ism lingers the poet­ic melan­choly that reminds us of those who nev­er make it like he does – and of the days when he admires the sim­ple beau­ty of the machines while hav­ing sun­set din­ners with his work bud­dies on the hoods of their cars.

Although a recent Los Ange­les Times inves­ti­ga­tion claims that Mon­tañez was nev­er the cre­ator of the beloved snack, Flamin’ Hot feels like a car­toon­ish fan­ta­sy any­way, now more than ever in our present pre­car­i­ous econ­o­my. The off­screen con­tro­ver­sy does not take away from the film’s well-thought-out adap­ta­tion of the mar­ket­ing guru’s per­son­al fairy­tale – con­vert­ing a dubitable entre­pre­neur­ial cliché into an all-encom­pass­ing melo­dra­ma with warmth and empathy.