hen she was 20 years old, Delores del Río was "discovered" in her native Mexico by director Edwin Carewe. Shortly after, in 1925, she went to Hollywood. After a few bit roles, del Río quickly became a star, appearing opposite Henry Fonda and Orsen Welles—but not without some careful marketing.

From del Río's films, as well as letters, ads, scripts, and magazine articles, Joanne Hershfield, associate professor of communication studies, traces how Carewe and publicist Henry Wilson made del Río and her image into a "carefully constructed commodity" that was sold not that much differently from, say, a car.

In some ways, del Río's Mexican heritage was an asset, Hershfield says. Carewe marketed del Río as an "exotic beauty" and the "perfect Latin type." The movie magazine Photoplay called her a "raven-haired, olive-skinned, sinuous-limbed Carmen," whose hair "has never known curling-iron or finger wave."

ut because of ideas about race at the time, del Río also had to be qualified somehow. Many Mexican actors, especially those with dark skin, were relegated to roles as stereotypical "banditos" or "greasers." So Carewe touted del Río as "Spanish" rather than Mexican and emphasized her wealthy family, her education in a convent, and her ability to speak five languages. These promotional efforts succeeded; a caption in Photoplay, for instance, described del Río as "one of the most sedate and ladylike social leaders of the film colony."

In Flying Down to Rio, del Río is portrayed as more aristocratic than ethnic. She plays a Brazilian heiress who falls in love with and marries a white band leader. The movie portrayed a mostly white and wealthy Brazil, Hershfield writes, even though most Brazilians at the time were poor Afro-Brazilians.

One movie does emphasize del Río's ethnicity, but in the end warns against interracial marriage. In Bird of Paradise, del Río portrays Luana, a South Seas "savage princess" who captures the heart of a white sailor. But they can never be together. "The film says well, yes, white men can be attracted to these other women, but it's in the best interests of the nation and the race that they not marry and procreate," Hershfield says. "Hollywood was careful not to promote any notions that would turn audiences away."

Hershfield is also author of Mexican Cinema/Mexican Woman, 1940-1950 and is at work on a documentary about Hispanics in North Carolina.