OK, so maybe Selena’s songs didn’t have the most intellectually engaging lyrics around.

Bidi bidi boom boom ...

And maybe she wouldn’t have been invited to pack up her gaudy bustiers to take part in Lilith Fair, had she lived to see Sarah McLachlan give birth to the ovary-centric tour.

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi boom boom ...

But her place in pop culture is probably more assured than that of the music industry princesses who lived to see the sun come up April 1, 1995, partly because she didn’t, and partly because of her fans. Four years after the president of her fan club gunned her down in a Corpus Christi hotel room, scores of fans still flock to the Texas town to visit her home, the boutique that sells her clothing line and her grave. In Lourdes Portillo’s new documentary, Corpus: A Home Movie for Selena, they share the spotlight with her. Portillo paints an affectionate portrait of the slain Tejano star and her somewhat troubling legacy.

The film opens with the images that first brought Selena to the attention of many English-speakers: Gritty shots from Spanish-language news-crews of her killer, Yolanda Saldivar, in a stand-off with police after the shooting, followed by shots from the funeral.

Portillo pointedly pulled footage from Spanish stations.

“She wasn’t so well-known by most Ameri-cans,” she said. “Spanish stations really focused on her (death). Americans glossed over it, and were kind of cavalier about it.”

Portillo herself didn’t know much about Selena until the murder. But, as anyone who has seen her other work can attest, Portillo knows a good story when she sees one. And this one has enough raw material to launch dozens of fairy tales and soap operas: Selena, whom many believe was on the verge of almost unprecedented success on both the Spanish and English charts, goes to a hotel on the outskirts of her hometown to confront Saldivar, the manager of her clothing store. There have been financial improprieties, and Selena’s family has advised her to fire Saldivar. Some believe Saldivar had a crush on Selena, which might explain why Saldivar responded so passionately to her impending dismissal. (The possibility of prison time if she had, indeed, cooked the books might have been a factor, too.) Saldivar tries to take her own life. Selena tries to stop her, and the gun goes off. Selena bleeds to death, Saldivar goes to prison and Selena’s fans grieve for years.

Given all the juicy details, it’s surprising there haven’t been thousands of documentaries and bio-pics, authorized or otherwise. (“Otherwise” is probably more likely, given her family’s notorious protectiveness of her image.) Gregory Nava’s glossy Selena is hardly definitive, as Corpus demonstrates.

Portillo spent a year on the film, drawn to her subject by the obvious story elements, by Selena’s enduring appeal to poor Latinos and by the dichotomy of her legacy. The contradictions crystallize perfectly at the Tejano Academy in Corpus Christi. Young Latinas with dreams of their own shots at stardom speak emotionally about her death, confessing they couldn’t even listen to her music afterward because it upset them too much. They also say Selena showed them blonde hair and a fair complexion aren’t required for success -- an important lesson that would be saluted without reservation had it not come from a woman who made her living in outfits a hooker might covet. The barbed side of the lesson is illustrated in shots of pre-pubescent girls waggling their still-developing hips while singing songs of passion and desire.

Writer Sandra Cisneros builds on those images during an informal gathering of Latina scholars. Cisneros says she thinks Selena stood for some dangerous ideals. Nevertheless, she bought a Selena key-chain because it was the first time she had ever seen a Latina other than the Virgen de Guadalupe memorialized like that. It seems Latinas (or any other minority, for that matter) have to take their role models where they can find them if they seek them in the American mainstream. Selena’s message, good and bad, probably reached more impressionable minds than the works of the accomplished Latinas tossing back margaritas in the film. (Portillo is doing her part to even the score. She’s putting the finishing touches on a film about the dinner, which anyone who sees Corpus will definitely want to check out.)

Portillo draws a snappy parallel between the young Latinas’ sentiments and those of a Latino drag queen who “does” Selena in his act. (Even in San Antonio, where Cisneros is a prominent member of the community, you’re unlikely to find a key-chain stamped with her face, much less a drag queen with an impression of her.) The young man says Selena’s fame allows him to express pride in his culture by playing a prominent Latina entertainer rather than sticking to more traditional (read: Anglo) drag icons.

The shots of him padding his pantyhose and the girls vamping with their microphones underscore the film’s title. “Corpus” means body, and Selena’s body was part of her appeal -- not just because she was sexy, but because she had fuller hips and a pronounced rear end. She showed her fans you don’t have to be a stick to be sexy.

Selena herself moves through the film via video and home movie snippets. Hearing her sing lends a strong sense of loss to the film, another masterful work that fits well into the Portillo pantheon.

Deborah Martin spent one year working at the Corpus Christi Caller-Times, two blocks from Selena’s memorial. She now is the assistant arts editor at the San Antonio Express-News.la is a free-lance journalist, filmmaker, and Tejano-based member of the new Chicano intelligentsia.