Stream It Or Skip It?

The concept of Batman has always been framed as a higher calling for the man beneath the mask, but Aztec Batman: Clash of Empires (now streaming on VOD platforms like Amazon Prime Video) takes that to a new level. In this reiteration of Batman lore set in 1500s Mexico, the caped crusader is quite literally inspired by deities, most notably Tzinacan, an ancient bat god representing death and sacrifice. Neat! Mexican-born director Juan Jose Meza-Leon – whose credits include Rick and Morty and Harley Quinn – helms the latest of several period-specific and/or ethnic variations on the mythos, some of which feel truly inspired, while some come off as novelty for its own sake. Let’s see where this one lands.

The Gist: We meet Yohualli Coatl (Horacio Garcia Rojas) in the dream world, caught in the middle of a struggle between a giant, godlike bull and its giant, godlike bat equivalent. Yohualli awakens and shares the vision with his father, Toltecatzin (Jorge R. Gutierrez) who prognosticates, “You will give our bat god the respect that he’s due.” That is, as they say, a bingo. The opening moments of Yohualli’s fate play out as white men arrive on their shores, led by Spanish explorer Hernan Cortes (Alvaro Morte) and his enforcer Pedro de Alvarado (Jose Carlos Illanes). History tells us not to trust these guys, but Yohualli’s chieftain father welcomes them, offering them food and hospitality, like the good man he is. And then Cortes and his guys show off their guns. You know, just for fun, like, hey, look at what WE invented! And it doesn’t take a consult with the gods to deem this a bad omen.

Once the Europeans politely request directions to the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan, Toltecatzin blanches; cue the massacre. Batman lore hereby dictates that Yohualli watch his father die, and so it goes. He escapes into the rainforest with a bullet wound in his shoulder and falls unconscious into the water and wakes up in the presence of an ivy-coated earth-mother goddess, who nurses him to health and ushers him on his way, toward a friend of his father’s who might be the equivalent of a mid-millennium Middle American butler-type character if you squint hard enough. Meanwhile, Cortes and his goons get to conquering and imperializing every city and village between him and Tenochtitlan, reaping bloody gold and bloody glory in the name of his Christian god, who he claims to speak with every morning, probably over coffee and Nutella-and-banana scones.

Yohualli,who continues having visions of the bat god Tzinican, beats Cortes to Tenochtitlan and warns King Moctezuma (Humberto Busto) of the pending danger. The king consults with his shaman, Yoka (Omar Chaparro), who consults with a total idiot of a god who says they should welcome Cortes and his horde with open arms. Moctezuma follows his spiritual leader’s guidance, and Yohualli can’t believe it. He might just have to do something about this himself, Tzinican-style! Scuffles break out and as allies and foes reveal themselves, we start to wonder if any of these characters begin to resemble familiar ones from different contexts, e.g., the warrior lady wearing jaguar ears or Yoka and his twisted, sneering grin. No spoilers, even though it’s pretty obvious!

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Other Batman variants for ya: Two Batman Ninja anime spoofs, Victorian England-set Gotham by Gaslight and H.P. Lovecraft adaptation Batman: The Doom That Came to Gotham.

Performance Worth Watching Hearing: Rojas’ voiceover is a consistent indicator of Yohualli’s shift from earnest naivete to a more worldly perspective – which is a way of saying he does a pretty good low-slung Batman Voice. 

Memorable Dialogue: Yohualli expresses deep skepticism: “Stubborn and maddening are those who see a stone-god altar and think it’s listening to them.”

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: Disappointingly, Aztec Batman doesn’t quite meet the potential of its concept. Where the Ninja Batman films leaned into over-the-top silliness, this latest outing is an ethnocentric reiteration of the Batman origin story that’s superficially compelling – the Aztec versions of his cowl and weapons are keenly designed – but thematically jumbled. There’s a tug-of-war between the spiritual and the pragmatic in both Yohualli’s inner struggle and the greater context: He pushes back against the perceived woo-woo of dreams, visions and conversations with gods until he comes to understand the power and magnetism of the bat-deity. Meanwhile, Cortes claims to commune with his deity, even though we never see it, and we watch as Yoka (note: the name is a hint) is unwittingly manipulated by a glowing-neon god-being. 

There are potential riches to be mined from this dynamic, but we struggle to get a firm grip on Yohualli’s understanding of the spiritual realm, and from a narrative standpoint, his intellectual conflict doesn’t neatly shake hands with Cortes and Yoka’s relationships with higher powers. Is Meza-Leon – co-writing with Ernie Altbacker – asserting that one must embrace spirituality in order to become something greater? I think so, maybe, but the screenplay is cluttered with character introductions, reveals and assorted unnecessary complications that muddy its thematic intent.

Visually, the film is Just Fine, its robustly rendered backgrounds and contextual details almost compensating for the rote, mediocre action sequences. The story’s at least functional within the greater Batman mythos that applies the horseshoe theory to good and evil: the men in Aztec Batman who interact with gods are inevitably driven mad, although Yohualli has yet to truly show us that. Thus set up is a sequel that should be thoroughly cracking, right? Hopefully. But what about this movie, the one we’re watching now? Color me underwhelmed.

Our Call: Aztec Batman: Clash of Empires is a one-time-only kind of watch, mostly for diehard Batman completists. It’s novel, more than a little overstuffed and occasionally enjoyable. If that sounds like faint praise, that’s because it is. SKIP IT. 

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.