The Reimagining of Lupe Velez In Today’s Industry
One of the saddest phrases in the English language is, “What might have been”. In the early 1900’s Lupe Velez, a pioneering, trail-blazing Latina talent, the likes of which had not been seen before, would be a good example.
Velez, was born Maria Guadalupe Villalobos Velez in San Luis Potosi, Mexico in 1908. Her star shone brightly in the entertainment night sky, but all too briefly, then tragically, crashed and burned all too soon. Like Marilyn Monroe and James Dean, who came after her, Velez died in the prime and promise of her career. But, unlike Monroe and Dean, Velez never reached the mythic status of legend.
Velez started her show business career at an exceedingly early age, in Mexican vaudeville. Later, she attended Our Lady of the Lake University in San Antonio, Texas, where she excelled in English, singing, and dancing. She began appearing in both Mexican and American silent films. In 1927 she appeared opposite the great Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. in The Gaucho.
One of Velez’s notable achievements early on in her film career was her successful transition from silent movies to talkies. The advent of the talking motion pictures proved disastrous to the careers of many great silent stars, including John Gilbert, Ramon Novarro, Paula Negri, and Fairbanks, some of whom experienced difficulties transitioning to talkies, because of high-pitched voices, or strong foreign accents. Velez’s Mexican accent never was an issue in her transition to talkies. In fact, her accent and distinctive Latina speech patterns and mannerisms were the core of her film persona: The Mexican Spitfire.
Velez honed her God-given, on-screen comedic skills by appearing in Hal Roach shorts with Charley Chase and Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. Velez was also directed in films by a “Who’s Who” of Hollywood’s top film directors: D. W. Griffith, Cecil B. de Mille, Henry King, Victor Fleming, and William Wyler.
The unique and comical acting skills of Valdez set her apart from her Mexican contemporaries Dolores Del Rio, and Katy Jurado. The film persona of Velez was a combination of looney and scatter-brained, like Gracie Allen, lovable, beautiful, and whacky, like Carole Lombard, and a vivacious and bombshell Hispanic, like Charo. In her films, The Half-Naked Truth (1932), Hollywood Party (1934), The Girl from Mexico (1939), and Mexican Spitfire (1940), Valdez displayed on the big screen comedic acting chops that would have served her well today, on the small TV screen.
Velez, Del Rio, and Jurado were among the earliest female Mexican actors to make it big in early Hollywood. Whereas Del Rio and Jurado were principally dramatic actresses. Where Jurado never cracked a joke or a smile in any of her movies, Velez did it all in her film roles, singing, dancing, and best of all madcap, zany comedy.
Most of Velez’s films had plots thinner than a single strand of fideo. The storylines were designed for Velez to interact and react to the other characters in the film. She was a master of verbal repartee, the ad-libbed quip, the facial aside, double-take, slapstick, and acid rejoinder. Brilliantly, she employed these abilities with Mexican-accented malaprops and other verbal miscues that do not reduce Velez’s on-screen persona into a racial stereotype. She delivers her lines with such convincing assertiveness, confidence, wit, and charm.
In High Flyers (1937), Velez sings and does hilarious impersonations of Del Rio, Simone Simone, and Kathrine Hepburn. Del Rio and Velez were bitter professional and personal rivals. Velez did other mocking impersonations of Del Rio, with obvious venom-filled glee, in several of her movies. The two hot-tempered Mexicans frequently had off-screen encounters at Hollywood parties that made spicy headlines in the tabloids.
Movie censors of the day were left scratching their heads in confusion when Velez’s character would let loose a manic, machine-gun salvo of Mexican invectives, while in the throes of a jalapeño-hot temper tantrum. The Spanish came out so fast and furious, the censors could only wonder what Velez was saying and only hope the viewing audience was just as confused.
After viewing dozens of Velez movie clips, some Spanish-language documentaries, and the film Mexican Spitfire, there is no doubt Velez would be a huge, comedy star in today’s film and TV. It is easy to re-imagine the Velez starring in a Garry Marshall sitcom. Maybe a Latino twist on Laverne and Shirley (Lavina y Chula), about two Latinas, as Dreamers dreaming of a better life, while they toil away in an East LA, Dos Equis beer bottling plant.
Between 1941 and 1943, there were five Mexican Spitfire sequels made, featuring Valdez as Carmelita Lindsay. Today, with the vast array of streaming platform outlets Mexican Spitfire could be turned into a phenomenally successful six-part mini-series.
The TV variety show, like the classic Carol Burnett Show, has been on the endangered species list for many years. But, Velez would be a natural hosting a variety show, showcasing her singing, dancing, Vaudeville, impersonation, and sketch comedy talents. No other current Latina superstar could pull it off. Velez’s infectious and irresistible charm would make The Lupe Velez Musical Comedy Hour a sure-fire ratings hit. But alas, she lived in another time, another era.
But alas, she lived in another time, another era. Velez’s off-screen personal life was tumultuous, controversial, and rocked by scandal. A highly publicized love affair with Gary Cooper, a marriage that ended in a bitter divorce, and other off-screen antics and eccentricities, proved damaging to her professionally and personally. In another time, another era, during the Golden Age of Hollywood, these sorts of scandals ruined the careers of several female movie stars. Just ask Ingrid Bergman and Frances Farmer.
Velez’s off-screen personal life was tumultuous, controversial, and rocked by scandal. A highly publicized stormy love affair with Gary Cooper, a marriage that ended in a bitter divorce, and other off-screen antics and eccentricities, proved damaging to her professionally and personally. During the Golden Age of Hollywood, these sorts of scandals ruined the careers of several female movie stars, including Ingrid Bergman and Frances Farmer.
Today, Velez’s personal escapades would make headlines inTMZ becoming storylines for her TV show, boosting her ratings, and land her a lucrative book deal. But sadly, Velez lived in a conservative era.
On December 18, 1944, at the age of 36, Velez took a fatal overdose of the Seconal barbiturate, following a heartbreaking failed relationship resulting in an unwanted pregnancy. The names and sordid details and circumstances surrounding her death are not relevant. The loss of a great multi-talented, pioneering Mexican star and a legacy unrealized, is what matters.
Netflix has an upcoming series titled Selena: The Series, celebrating the Mexican-American Queen of Tejano Music, Selena Quintanilla-Perez, who was murdered at 23 years old, at the height of her musical career. Like Monroe, Dean, and many other celebrities who died much too young, Quintanilla-Perez, since her untimely death, has been boosted onto the pedestal of myth and legend.
It’s time that Lupe Velez, the Mexican Spitfire gets a pedestal of her own.