‘Selena y Los Dinos’ Review: Definitive Doc on the Tejano Music Icon Surprises with Candid Footage and Unspoken Observations
If a live performance can be deemed hallowed ground, then Selena Quintanilla at the Houston Astrodome in February 1995, a month before her untimely death, certainly qualifies. From that night, the heartfelt opening verse of her anthem “Como La Flor” sounds like a prayer, before the bittersweet jubilation of the cumbia ballad begins. Footage of that landmark concert unavoidably forms part of “Selena y Los Dinos,” a new documentary on the Quintanilla family and Selena’s rise to stardom — directed by Isabel Castro, whose previous doc “Mija” was also about Mexican American women in music.
But how can a filmmaker conjure up something unsaid and unseen about someone so widely revered, and still indelibly present in culture today? The answer: by gaining access to the Quintanilla family’s personal archives and forging judicious thematic threads with the material — much of which has never been made public before. Those familiar with the broad strokes of Selena’s rise to fame and the tragic ending to her story will find renewed appreciation for the performer as they see her as a vivacious child, an enchanting teenager, and a young woman asserting herself in her professional prime. The unvarnished quality of the video footage, specifically its tracking lines, informs the entire film’s retro aesthetic.
This definitive doc about Selena feels comprehensive and illuminating, thanks to candid family interactions found in home movies from their earliest performances at their restaurant, recordings of local Texas TV station appearances, and eventually images captured on the road while traveling in a makeshift tour bus. Rather than humanizing Selena, the unposed images construct the closest to a first-hand profile one could ever get about someone whose full artistic potential will forever remain a mystery.
Appropriately titled, “Selena y Los Dinos” consistently states that the success of the dazzlingly charismatic and talented Tejano icon was always a collaboration spearheaded by her father Abraham Quintanilla, Jr. — a former member of the original Los Dinos band — with the help of her siblings turned bandmates, AB and Suzette (both executive producers on the film), and their mother Marcela. The new interviews Castro conducted with everyone in the immediate family, as well as other musicians, songwriters and producers who were part of their inner circle, find them speaking with hindsight 30 years after her passing. The hurt of losing Selena is still palpable, but they all seem interested in engaging with this project as a celebration of life rather than a mournful sendoff.
Castro has taken on a daunting subject: a pillar of Mexican American culture, who has already been the subject of a scripted drama (Gregory Nava’s 1997 “Selena” starring Jennifer Lopez) and more recently a Netflix series, on top of countless news programs and posthumous anniversary commemorations of all stripes. On top of that, there’s a built-in caveat to making docs and fictionalized biopics about celebrities, in particular those on musicians: In order to use the songs and to access substantial archival material, the estate’s involvement is a necessity. That, of course, might prevent the filmmaker from touching on the less flattering aspects of someone’s existence.
Yet Castro, in collaboration with deft editor Carolina Siraqyan, manages to weave in segments that subtextually address some of the not-so-pristine shades of Abraham Quintanilla’s presence in his children’s lives. These moments are not damning or headline-worthy, but acknowledge that at times the businessman could be dismissive of his kids’ feelings or push too hard in order to succeed vicariously through them. One of his answers in a present-day interview with Castro disregards the potential of Selena’s fashion ventures rather bluntly, in what comes off as a rare gloves-off instance.
Chief among the filmmaker’s noticeable mandates (perhaps in conjunction with the family) is that Selena’s killer, Yolanda Saldívar, doesn’t occupy a single frame of “Selena y Los Dinos.” Her first name is mentioned once via a news broadcast from the time and Abraham Quintanilla, in footage from a press conference, refers to her as a disgruntled employee. Her absence from this estate-approved, official bio-doc is a poetic vanishment. Last year, a more salacious Oxygen network docuseries titled “Selena & Yolanda: The Secrets Between Them” gave the convicted criminal airtime to speak her “truth.”
Castro’s film makes a point of noting, via street interviews from the ‘90s, how young Americans of Mexican descent were finding in Selena a role model that inspired them to reconnect with their heritage. There’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shot of two little girls watching her command the stage that exemplifies the magnitude of her reach within the community. It’s not a stretch to assume Castro herself was among those young fans for whom Selena’s songs, outfits, and effervescent persona made her a personality-shaping idol. Such acknowledgement of an artist’s impact often only comes once the test of time has been passed, but it’s stirring to see the effect she already had while alive as a unifying, paradigm-shifting force across borders, eliciting similar euphoria from Mexican nationals and Mexican Americans.
For the latter demographic, however, her significance goes deeper, because she didn’t grow up speaking Spanish or listening to music genres popular in Mexico. Still, through her work, she found a way in. It’s
fascinating to see the evolution of her fluency in Spanish in the interviews that Castro features as a testament to her diligence. Yet she also yearned to record an English-language album to reclaim her American identity and reach a wider audience. Thought Cuevas doesn’t explicitly extrapolate Selena’s success as a foundational piece of the current global boom of Spanish-language music in diverse genres, one can’t help but think about how the industry and culture at large has changed, with Spanish-speaking acts now drawing major crowds around the world and dominating the charts at home and abroad.
To cap this loving, playful and inevitably poignant portrait, Castro and Siraqyan found the perfect
final clip, an almost prophetic statement on the endurance of art through those who appreciate it.
The only suitable response to that reminder of her departure and her earned immortality also
comes from the chorus of “Como La Flor”: “?Ah-ah,ay, cómo me duele!” Or, in English, “Oh, how it hurts.”
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