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Hollywood and Mexican Filmmakers: A Century of Struggle

Hollywood has been feeding off Mexican representation in Hollywood for over a century, taking what it wants while leaving actual Mexican filmmakers and actors scrambling for scraps. From the Golden Age to now, Mexican representation in Hollywood has been a fight for visibility, control, and respect. The industry loves the aesthetic of Mexican culture but doesn’t want actual Mexicans telling their own damn stories. And that’s not just a historical issue—it’s still happening today. Just look at Emilia Pérez, a film about Mexico made in France. Would it have been showered with the same praise if a Mexican filmmaker had directed it? History tells us the answer is probably no.

Lupe Vélez: The Firecracker Hollywood Wanted to Control

Lupe Vélez was a force of nature—talented, charismatic, and completely uncontainable. Hollywood loved that about her… until they didn’t. Marketed as the “Mexican Spitfire,” she was typecast as the wild, passionate Latina, never allowed to step outside the roles they assigned her. They wanted her fiery—but only on their terms.

Her off-screen relationships with Gary Cooper and Johnny Weissmuller only added to the gossip mill, with Hollywood more invested in her personal drama than her skills as an actress. And when she got pregnant out of wedlock? That was the end. The same industry that profited off her image turned its back on her, leaving her isolated and desperate. In 1944, she died by suicide, yet another example of Hollywood taking everything and giving nothing back.

Mexicans in the Golden Age of Hollywood: The Erasure and the Stereotypes

Lupe Vélez was far from the only Mexican actor that Hollywood used and discarded. Studios routinely cast white actors in brownface to play Mexican roles, all while sidelining actual Mexican talent. They justified it with the same tired excuse: “audiences won’t buy a real Mexican lead.” Meanwhile, actual Mexican actors were given the same demeaning roles—bandits, maids, sidekicks, or nameless background characters.

Even when Mexican stories were told, they were told through a white lens. Look at Viva Zapata! (1952), where Marlon Brando—yes, Marlon Brando—played a Mexican revolutionary while actual Mexicans were kept to minor roles. The message was clear: Mexican culture was profitable, but actual Mexican people weren’t worth the spotlight.

And before anyone brings up Rita Hayworth—no, just no. That woman was Spanish, not Mexican. And yet, every time the topic of Latinas in Hollywood comes up, people want to claim her as representation. Rita Hayworth’s transformation from Margarita Cansino into a redheaded Hollywood bombshell is a whole other story of whitewashing, but it does not belong in the discussion of Mexican representation in Hollywood. Mexicans had to fight for scraps while Hollywood played dress-up with our culture, and no, painting a white actress tan and calling it a day is not the same as hiring actual Mexican talent.

But let’s talk about the actual Mexican talent Hollywood did have—and ignored, underused, or outright disrespected. Dolores del Río was one of the most glamorous stars of Hollywood’s Golden Age, but despite her talent, she was repeatedly typecast as the “exotic beauty” or the tragic Latina woman. When she refused to conform to the industry’s stereotypes, she was pushed aside and found greater success back in Mexico, helping shape the Golden Age of Mexican cinema instead.

Then there was Gilbert Roland, a dashing and talented actor who spent decades playing side characters, rarely given the leading-man roles his talent deserved. Or Ramón Novarro, one of the biggest silent film stars, often considered the “next Valentino”—until homophobia and racism derailed his career.

And let’s not forget Katy Jurado, the first Latina actress nominated for an Academy Award, who built a career playing fierce, complicated women despite Hollywood’s best efforts to keep her in the “spicy senorita” box. Unlike many of her peers, she refused to be boxed in—and paid the price with fewer opportunities.

And, of course, Rita Moreno, the first Latina EGOT winner, who spent her entire career battling typecasting and Hollywood’s unwillingness to see her beyond stereotypical roles. Moreno has openly discussed the racism and misogyny she endured, the limiting roles she was offered, and how she had to fight to be seen as more than just a token Latina. Even after winning an Oscar for West Side Story (1961), she struggled for meaningful opportunities—because, according to Hollywood, there was only room for one Latina star at a time.

Fast Forward to Today: New Faces, Same Old Barriers

Hollywood has made some progress, but let’s be real—Mexican filmmakers and actors are still fighting for a seat at the table. And that brings us to Emilia Pérez, a critically acclaimed film about Mexican identity, made in… France. Now, don’t get me wrong—it’s a beautifully crafted film. But would it have received the same level of international praise if a Mexican filmmaker had directed it?

The pattern is familiar. Guillermo del Toro, Alfonso Cuarón, and Alejandro González Iñárritu—collectively known as the “Three Amigos”—have forced Hollywood to recognize Mexican filmmaking, but it took decades of proving themselves on a global scale before Hollywood took them seriously. Then there’s Gael García Bernal and Diego Luna, who made their mark in Y Tu Mamá También and had to carve out careers beyond the limitations Hollywood initially gave them. Luna has since taken charge by directing and producing, while Bernal has pushed boundaries with bold roles (Cassandro being his latest example).

The fight for representation also needs to acknowledge Afro-Latinas, who face an entirely different level of erasure. While Mexican actors have long struggled for visibility, Afro-Mexicans are barely acknowledged in mainstream entertainment at all. Actresses like Yalitza Aparicio (Roma), who is of Indigenous descent, shattered expectations by landing an Oscar nomination, but how many Afro-Mexican actors have had the same opportunity? Hollywood still clings to the idea that “Mexican” looks a certain way—ignoring the diversity within Mexico itself.

Then we have someone like Amara La Negra, an Afro-Dominican singer and actress, who has been vocal about how she’s told she’s “not Latina enough” because she doesn’t fit the narrow Eurocentric standard Hollywood has for Latinos. If Hollywood barely gives space to brown Latinos, where does that leave Afro-Latinos? The fight for Mexican and Latinx representation isn’t just about getting more faces on screen—it’s about acknowledging all of us, in all our complexity.

Final Thoughts: Who Gets to Tell Mexican Stories?

Lupe Vélez fought to be seen in an industry that refused to give her real respect. Today, Mexican filmmakers and actors are still fighting. Hollywood is happy to profit from our culture but won’t hand over the reins when it comes to storytelling. The fight for Mexican representation in Hollywood isn’t just about seeing Mexican faces on screen—it’s about who controls the narrative.

So we have to ask: When will Hollywood fully embrace Mexican talent—not just as subjects of stories, but as the storytellers themselves?

Written by Regina Luz Jordan | Editor & Founder, Hollywoodland News
Telling Hollywood’s untold stories—past and present—through the lens of diversity and change.