Critiquing stereotypical depictions of Latinxs in American media has been a foundational practice of Latinx media studies, as well as in animating Latinx political consciousness more generally. In Reel Latinxs: Representation in U.S. Film and TV, Frederick Luis Aldama and Christopher González take up this project to cover Latinx media representation from the birth of cinema through shifts to television and digital media up to the 2010s, or, as they characterize the text, a “roadmap through the history of our misrepresentation” (p. x). While they argue that “reel” Latinidad (the mainstream yet deficient depiction of Latinx identity on screen) “nearly flatlines a simplistic and racist reconstruction of Latinx subjectivity and experience” (p. x), they also collect examples of “real” Latinidad (depictions of Latinx identity they see as more accurate). By juxtaposing the “reel” with the “real,” they can not only critique, but also provide examples of preferable depictions, allowing them to emerge with a sense of optimism for the future of Latinx media representation should it follow this path.Positioned as an entry-level primer on the history of Latinx representation in US film and television, Reel Latinxs is structured around loose, thematic chapters (gender, children, comedy, the speculative), but operates more fundamentally as a kind of encyclopedia, with each chapter comprised of short sub-sections on a range of media objects. For instance, within the comedy chapter, the section on Latinx buffoons covers Cheech and Chong, Three Amigos! (1986), Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite (2004), and Nacho Libre (2006), tracing this character trope across different eras as it was invoked for different creative purposes. While these short segmentations don't allow for incredibly in-depth analysis of any particular film, the authors are able to draw value through linking these divergent media objects along conceptual lines, which allows them to cover much more, if at times cursory, ground.Indeed, the sheer number of films, characters, actors, and filmmakers compiled within this text make it a valuable scholarly reference source for those venturing into Latinx media topics. As the authors note, the prospect of defining Latinidad—both in fiction and in reality—is a challenge, since, as a multiracial ethnicity, they have no singular appearance, and in media tend to “swing on an ethnoracial pendulum between exaggerated presence . . . to absence” (p. 30). Thus, the authors take a generous approach in defining the scope of Latinidad, including not only the works of Latinx filmmakers and actors—whose specific nationalities and family histories have valuably been researched and noted throughout—but also Latinx characters played by non-Latinx actors. Additionally, Aldama and González provide compelling reads of coded, allegorical Latinidad signified by plot—dance, farm work, street racing—rather than the character or actor's identity alone. The resulting collection, erring on the side of inclusion, thus seems assuredly comprehensive in terms of potential Latinx media representation, making it a useful database for a variety of scholarly work.In support of the heavily segmented, legible structure, Reel Latinxs is written in a conversational tone, in which the authors freely incorporate their own histories, personalities, and opinions into the text. The authors do an excellent job of condensing theoretical concepts into plain language, including Viet Nguyen's “narrative plentitude” and Isabel Molina-Guzman's “color blind/color conscious TV.” Overall, though, outside citations are kept to an “omnipresent whisper” (p. xi), mostly collected as “Further Reading” within each chapter's notes. Including more of a history of Latinx media studies—in the same accessible language—would have been appreciated, but the decision to keep the discussion focused on the media objects themselves is also understandable. These stylistic choices allow Aldama and González to produce a text that contains a valuable collection of research for scholars but in a package that is less dry academic text, more manifesto—making it more accessible to students, or even those outside academia. Fittingly, the book concludes with a call to action framed under the rallying cry, “We want our Wakanda!” (p. 159). Taking the lead from black media activism in this regard, the authors demonstrate a desire for the ground-shifting reaction that can occur when an audience sees themselves—and knows others are seeing them—in mainstream popular culture, for perhaps the first time, in a non-denigrative way.
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Dec 31, 2022
Siti Rohana Ahmad + 1
