This is a really amazing HBO Latino music documentary titled, The Latin Explosion: A New America, that indeed doubles as a lesson in civics. It was wonderful to see the evolution of Latino identity in the U.S. through this documentary.
It is so hopeful. And it portends exceedingly well for diversity in the U.S., generally, and the lived, U.S.-Latino experience itself.
-Angela
The best moments come early in “The Latin Explosion: A New America,”
an hourlong HBO documentary on Monday night. Desi Arnaz dancing with
his conga and wailing “Babalú.” Rita Moreno laying down the law in “West Side Story.”
A series of early rock ’n’ roll one-hit wonders matched with their real
names: Sam the Sham, a.k.a. Domingo Samudio; Question Mark (of Question
Mark and the Mysterians), a.k.a. Rudy Martinez; Cannibal (of Cannibal
and the Headhunters), a.k.a. Frankie Garcia.
“Explosion,”
a history and civics lesson in the form of a music documentary, traces a
straight line through more than 60 years of Latin rhythms and fancy
footwork. From Arnaz to José Feliciano, Celia Cruz, Gloria Estefan,
Ricky Martin, Marc Anthony, Jennifer Lopez, Shakira and Pitbull, it’s an
unapologetic celebration of crossover commercial success, consistently
grounded in stories of hardship and struggle. The capsule biographies,
with their copious performance footage (the main reason to watch), are
accompanied by statistics on the growth of the Latino population in the
United States and occasional forays into political and cultural history,
to name check figures like Herman Badillo or Cesar Chavez.
Fans
of the music might note some omissions — no Enrique Iglesias, Christina
Aguilera or Paulina Rubio, for instance. (Anacani, a singer on “The
Lawrence Welk Show” who was many television viewers’ only connection to
Latino culture in the 1970s, pops up on screen singing “Feliz Navidad”
but isn’t identified.) Those same fans might note that the documentary
was conceived by the music executive Tommy Mottola, who has worked with
Ms. Estefan, Ms. Lopez, Mr. Anthony, Mr. Martin and Shakira. Mr.
Mottola’s wife, the Mexican actress and singer Thalia, also appears.
The
film is less a documentary than a very nicely produced public service
announcement, something that would look at home as the centerpiece of a
rally or a convention. The sense of commercial and cultural-political
imperatives outweighing artistic ones grows as the timeline approaches
the present day, and reaches its apotheosis in a segment on the buying
power of Latinos. Pitbull is shown shilling vodka, Bud Light and Dr
Pepper and says in an interview, “We’re a very loyal culture, that’s why
products want us so bad because we’re loyal consumers.” At which point
Chavez begins to spin in his grave.
But
most of the documentary is devoted to music, and the sounds and images
help the time pass easily enough. From the joyousness of Arnaz, to the
polyester splendors of the 1970s salsa scene in New York, to the supreme
showmanship and clarion voice of Mr. Anthony, “The Latin Explosion” is a convincing statement in an argument that was won long ago.
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