When Batman Wears a Headdress: The Risk of Turning Indigenous History into a Superhero Costume

Different iterations of the Camazotz, including  Christian Pacheco's sculpted Mayan Batman

An obsidian batarang strikes a stone wall carved with the visage of Mictlantecuhtli, the Aztec god of death. A hand sweeps away cobwebs to reveal a stone bat with outspread wings. Batman? Even better—or so we're meant to think. The figure mirrors Camazotz, a Mayan deity. This discrepancy should matter, but the spectacle of a feathered Batman wielding a macuahuitl makes it all too easy to ignore.

Poster Art for Aztec Batman (2025)

There's undeniable chemistry between Batman and Mesoamerican mythology. Cenotes, ancient deities, and the tragedies of lost ancestries resonate naturally with Gotham's dark knight. Fan artists have long recognized this connection—Christian Pacheco sculpted "Mayan Batman" as Camazotz for the character's 75th anniversary, and countless others have reimagined the hero in mariachi suits and lucha masks. Now, Aztec Batman: Clash of Empires brings this fascination to the big screen.

"In our effort to decolonize storytelling, we unintentionally create a new, generalized history that becomes relatable while erasing the very distinctions we're trying to preserve."

The animated feature, produced by Mexico's Ánima Estudios, transplants Batman's mythology directly into the Aztec Empire. Director Juan Meza-León consulted anthropologist Dr. Alejandro Barriga to ensure cultural accuracy, reimagining villains like Joker, Two-Face, and Catwoman with Mesoamerican designs. Unlike 2018's Batman Ninja, where the hero time-travels to feudal Japan, Aztec Batman rebuilds its universe from scratch. But in doing so, does it risk creating something more costume than culture?

The Paradox of Progress

Make no mistake—Ánima Estudios deserves praise. A Mexican studio producing an animated film by Mexicans, in Mexico, about Indigenous Mexican history represents genuine progress in Latin American cinema. Following recent strides in Latinx representation, this film could prove smaller studios can compete with animation giants while enriching the medium with authentic cultural narratives.

Yet this progress carries a hidden danger. The film's "mash-up" approach risks reducing the Aztec Empire to a stylized backdrop—a commodity rather than a culture. Two troubling possibilities emerge from this approach.

"The problem isn't solely capitalism or colonization; it's one of costume."

First, success might inspire other Latin American studios to adopt this misguided model. The entertainment industry has long profited from audiences of color (consider anime's global dominance), and Mexican storytellers could become agents of self-commodification rather than curators of their own narratives.

Second, this commodification perpetuates the cultural ambiguity that confuses both native and foreign audiences. Despite Meza-León's consultation with experts, Warner Bros. Animation and DC Entertainment likely won't concern themselves with the consequences of blurred cultural lines. When Mayan and Aztec elements blend indiscriminately, these distinct civilizations become interchangeable aesthetics—what professors Raphael Dalleo and Elena Machado Sáez call "consumer citizenship," where Latino stories are marketed in ways that homogenize distinctions among various groups.

The Art of Amalgamation

Ancestry T-Shirt that blends the Mayan Chichén Itzá, the Aztec Piedra de Sol

David Gonzales's Chicano-inspired artwork illustrates this problem perfectly. The creator of the Homies toy line often blurs cultural boundaries for mass appeal. His Ancestry shirt amalgamates the Mayan Chichén Itzá, the Aztec Piedra de Sol, and a Conchero dancer into one visually striking but historically muddled image. It's attractive, marketable, and completely sacrifices accuracy for accessibility. After all, who's going to fact-check?

Jorge Garza's 2017 Ancient Adversaries offers a different model. His artwork depicting Batman and Joker as Aztec warriors went viral, becoming a mythology meme. But Garza's independent creation exists free from corporate constraints. Whether his work inspired the film remains unclear, but unlike Garza's art, Ánima Estudios must answer to Warner Bros.' business needs.

Jorge Garza's Ancient Adversaries

"What would an animated film spoken in Nahuatl sound like? An animated story about the battle between Huitzilopochtli and Quetzalcoatl? Count me in!"

The trailer already shows troubling signs. Including a Mayan deity lookalike in a story explicitly set in the Aztec Empire perpetuates the very cultural ambiguity the film should combat. These aren't fresh narratives wearing familiar faces—they're familiar properties wearing new aesthetics, corporate-approved costumes draped over ancient cultures.

The Road Not Taken

Perhaps the film will prove me wrong and become an outstanding success that respects its source cultures while entertaining global audiences. But its corporate backing remains concerning, and social media hype seems to drown out critical discussions about consumer citizenship. At best, Aztec Batman signals a new era of Latin American animation talent. At worst, it invites audiences to accept cultural ambiguity as morally acceptable.

I wonder if DC and Warner Bros. might have done better eschewing familiar properties altogether, choosing instead to nurture new narratives from Mexico and Central America's rich, entangled histories. What would an animated film spoken entirely in Nahuatl sound like? An epic about the battle between Huitzilopochtli and Quetzalcoatl? Count me in!

Ánima Estudios could have followed Vera Drew's 2022 parody The People's Joker and resisted the corporate machine entirely. But therein lies representation's central paradox: Do we push for decolonized stories unshackled by corporate interests? And if so, on what platform will anyone see them?

These are the questions we must grapple with in this exciting—and perilous—age of storytelling.