Weeks before the cameras started to roll on Flamin’ Hot, Eva Longoria’s first narrative feature as a director, an exposé by the LA Times claimed that its subject, Richard Montañez, had falsely taken credit for the invention of the Flamin’ Hot Cheeto. This was no spurious dispute – the spicy corn puff is the stuff of snack legend, a global phenomenon that’s spawned its own fashion and makeup lines. And Montañez had used its creation as the triumphant climax of his memoir, A Boy, a Burrito, and a Cookie, which chronicles his rise from Frito-Lay janitor to the company’s vice president of multicultural sales and community promotions.
Frito-Lay told the Times that Montañez “was not involved in any capacity in the test market”, only to then double back and tell NPR that he was undoubtedly “a part of” the overall creation process. Montañez’s story was readily embraced precisely because it served as a step-by-step manifestation of the American dream. Flamin’ Hot, then, honours that (potential mis)truth. Its sturdy, conventional approach either makes for persuasive fiction or streamlined reality – take your pick.
