Like many Mexican Americans, I grew up eating those heavily processed corn puffs called Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, my nose usually running from all the lime and Valentina I’d douse on top. And while I don't walk around with red-stained fingers as often as I did in middle school, hot Cheetos still hold a special place in my chile-loving heart. But despite the nostalgia, I couldn’t shake off my lingering skepticism while watching Flamin’ Hot, Eva Longoria’s directorial debut that details the underdog story behind this billion-dollar brand. Yes, it's a remarkable story about how Latines can overcome enormous barriers in corporate America—but it's told in a way that tastes like a Frito-Lay press campaign.
Flamin' Hot charts Richard Montañez’s (Jesse Garcia) rise thanks to his ingenious snack idea, from janitor to marketing executive at Frito-Lay. Working at a Cheetos plant, Montañez endures years of rejection as he tries to climb the corporate ladder, until one day he gets the idea of redeveloping the product with the spices he loves in Mexican street foods, like elote. In an all-hands-on-deck family affair, the Montañezes tirelessly work to concoct the perfect level of heat and lip-smacking sazón. Fast-forward through multiple taste tests and a ballsy phone call to Frito-Lay executive Roger Enrico (Tony Shalhoub), and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos are on every shelf in the local market—and they eventually go flying off of them too.
There’s an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed first: The accuracy of Richard Montañez's story has been up for question since 2021, when the Los Angeles Times investigated Montañez’s claims and came up empty. In a statement to the Times, Frito-Lay called his story an “urban legend.”
If we assume that Flamin' Hot is close (enough) to the truth, it spins a story of how perseverance and defiant belief in a vision can unlock incredible opportunities, even for those who find themselves on the margins of society. It’s supposed to be a feel-good tale, about how the entrepreneurial son of immigrants spotted an opportunity in celebrating Mexican flavors. But a major issue lies in its inadvertent message: Like a red-dusted Trojan horse being wheeled out of the Cheeto plant, Flamin' Hot packages its inspirational rags-to-riches tale with a shiny portrayal of Frito-Lay that, in a few ways, feels like a two-hour sponsored ad.
Montañez's resourcefulness is also a story about making a profit. It's about how Mexican flavors (and the Hispanic consumer) boosted a multi-billion food corporation during an economic downturn. When a young Richard is bullied at school for eating a burrito at lunch, he sells it to his bullies and spins it into a business. When the Montañezes struggle to get by, Judy Montañez (Annie Gonzalez), his wife and cheerleader, sells tortillas outside a grocery store. When sales at Frito-Lay are down, Montañez saves his factory from closure by adding a Mexican spin to the company's product.
Like many immigrants and first-generation Americans, Montañez sees his community's buying power, but corporations only see profit margins. And although Flamin' Hot doesn't hide that ugly truth, it tries to send the message that big companies can change—that they can foster diverse talent and engage with diverse consumers. It tethers Frito-Lay to the Latine community and says, “We got a good thing going on—now go check out our full line of Flamin' Hot products featured in the closing credits.”
Although I couldn’t unsee the Frito-Lay ad, the film wasn’t all raised eyebrows. The film has a likable cast and a handful of moving performances, such as an emotional confrontation about Richard’s dreams between him and his father Vacho (Emilio Rivera), although the script's proneness for melodrama makes it a bit corny at times. (No pun intended.)
Flamin’ Hot also sends the message that no waiter, janitor, housekeeper, campesino, or other blue-collar worker is unworthy of respect. Judy and Richard Montañez are two young parents whose generation witnessed the Chicano Movement, the largest civil rights’ movement by people of Mexican descent. We watch them navigate generational trauma, blatant racism, and the fight to provide for their family with their limited job prospects—and they successfully break free from the cyclical poverty and crime prevalent in their community. Elements of the story champion our people's entrepreneurial spirit and the desire to build something for ourselves in this country.
But the movie turns that on-screen embrace of minority communities into something that ultimately serves a giant snack corporation. I had a hard time buying Flamin’ Hot’s fantasy: With a bit of ingenuity and the help of some Hollywood magic, the Montañezes are able to help Frito-Lay realize that engaging minority audiences is a good thing. Adding a spicy slurry to corn puffs not only appeals to the burgeoning Hispanic market, but it turns out to be a gold mine. And suddenly (almost miraculously) the company's racist white executives care about Mexicans—the end.
If that sounds like an oversimplified ending to a film tackling institutional racism, it's because it is. Flamin' Hot prefers to keep things light and cheery by serving the classic American Dream that ends in stability, validation, and complete assimilation into the corporate world. For the movie, a happy ending is a corner office with Montañez’s name on it, plus lots and lots of sold Cheetos. Richard Montañez's story is extraordinary. But there are so many success stories in our community that don’t improve a major corporation’s bottom line—and never have a biopic made about them. For many of us, that success story means simply existing in this country and creating the kind of life that we want for ourselves, which, in its own way, is quite remarkable. I’ll take that message over a Frito-Lay ad anyday.