Jorge Gutiérrez didn’t just make a cartoon. He built a myth. Honestly, if you haven’t sat down to watch Maya and the Three, you are missing out on what is arguably the most visually ambitious project Netflix Animation has ever greenlit. It’s loud. It’s bright. It’s incredibly violent for a TV-Y7 rating. It feels like someone took a bunch of Mesoamerican history, mixed it with 1980s heavy metal album covers, and then turned the saturation up to eleven.
Most people see a colorful thumbnail and think it's just another "princess" story. They're wrong.
Maya is a warrior. Specifically, she’s a Mesoamerican-inspired princess who discovers she’s actually the daughter of the God of War. On her fifteenth birthday, the underworld comes knocking. Literally. They want her life as a sacrifice to pay for her family's past sins. What follows is a nine-episode "event series" that plays out like a massive, serialized epic movie. It doesn’t follow the standard "villain of the week" trope. It’s one long, breathless sprint toward a finale that—fair warning—will absolutely wreck you.
The Myth Behind the Madness
The genius of Maya and the Three lies in its roots. This isn’t some generic fantasy world. Gutiérrez drew from Aztec, Maya, and Inca mythology, but he did it with a "remix" mentality. You see it in the character designs. Lord Mictlan, the God of War (voiced by a menacingly suave Alfred Molina), isn't just a guy in a cape. He’s a terrifying, multi-limbed entity inspired by the actual Aztec deity Mictlantecuhtli.
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The world-building is dense. We have Teca, the kingdom of the Sun, which looks like a futuristic version of Tenochtitlan. Then you’ve got the Caribbean-inspired Kingdom of Rooster, the jungle-heavy Kingdom of Skull, and the mountainous Kingdom of Puma. Each has its own distinct aesthetic and fighting style. It feels lived-in.
People often compare it to The Book of Life, Gutiérrez’s previous film. That makes sense. They share an art style—chunky, wooden-doll silhouettes and intricate patterns—but Maya is much more mature. The stakes are higher. In The Book of Life, death was a colorful detour. In Maya and the Three, death is permanent, heavy, and frequent. Characters you love will die. It’s brave storytelling for a platform usually obsessed with "safe" family content.
Why the Animation Hits Different
Let’s talk about the aspect ratio. This is a weird technical detail that most viewers notice subconsciously but can’t quite name. The show constantly shifts its black bars. During epic fight scenes, the frame expands or shrinks to emphasize scale. It’s a cinematic trick usually reserved for big-budget IMAX movies, not "cartoons."
The color palette is another thing. It’s aggressive. Neon pinks, deep teals, and burning golds.
Everything is textured. You can see the grain in the wood, the scuffs on Maya’s golden eagle armor, and the shimmer of the obsidian blades. It’s a level of detail that Tangent Animation (the studio that worked on it before their unfortunate closure) poured every ounce of soul into. It’s tragic, really. This kind of craftsmanship is becoming rarer as streamers pivot toward cheaper, faster production cycles.
The "Three" Aren't Just Sidekicks
The title refers to Maya and her three recruits from the different kingdoms.
- Rico: An orphaned "Greatest Wizard" who is basically a mess.
- Chimi: The "Skull Warrior" who was cast out of her village and raised by animals.
- Pichu: The "Barbarian" who hides his trauma behind a massive, muscular frame.
They’re all outcasts. That’s the point. The prophecy says "three outcasts and a eagle warrior" will defeat the gods. But the show deconstructs this. It asks if prophecies are even real or if they're just excuses for people to do the right thing.
Zoe Saldaña voices Maya with this raw, raspy energy. She isn’t "composed." She screams, she cries, and she makes terrible, impulsive decisions. She’s fifteen. It’s refreshing to see a female lead in a "chosen one" story who is allowed to be messy and genuinely angry.
The Reality of Cultural Representation
There’s a lot of talk about "representation" in media nowadays, and often it feels like a checklist. Maya and the Three feels different. It’s personal.
Gutiérrez has spoken at length about how this was his "love letter" to Mexican culture. He didn't just hire consultants; he built the DNA of the show around the concept of Mestizaje—the blending of cultures. It’s also deeply feminist without being preachy. The most powerful entities in this universe are the women, particularly Lady Micte, the Goddess of Death (voiced by Sandra Equihua, Jorge's wife and the show's lead character designer).
The relationship between Maya and her mother, Queen Teca, is the emotional anchor. It’s not a "Disney" relationship where the mom is just there to give advice. Queen Teca is a frontline general. She fights alongside her daughter. It’s about a lineage of strength.
Addressing the Ending (No Spoilers, But...)
We need to talk about the guts it took to write that ending.
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Usually, in Western animation, the hero finds a "third way" out. They win, and everyone goes home for cake. Maya and the Three doesn't do that. It honors the logic of its own mythology. In Mesoamerican myths, sacrifice isn't necessarily a tragedy—it's a transformation. The finale is bittersweet and visually poetic. It treats the audience with respect, assuming they can handle complex emotions like grief and legacy.
Why You Should Care Now
Netflix's library is a graveyard of forgotten gems. Maya and the Three was released in late 2021, and while it stayed in the Top 10 for a bit, it didn't get the multi-season franchise treatment because, well, it was a limited series by design. But in 2026, as we look back at the "Golden Age" of streaming animation, this stands as a peak.
It’s a masterclass in pacing. Nine episodes. That’s it. No filler.
If you're a fan of Avatar: The Last Airbender or Arcane, this is in that same tier. It has that same "grown-up" feel while still being accessible to kids who don't mind a little bit of "scary" in their stories.
Expert Take: The Legacy of Teca
From a technical standpoint, the industry still talks about the lighting in this show. Lighting CG characters is hard. Lighting them in a world where everything is reflective and glowing is a nightmare. The "Gods" in the show all have distinct light signatures. When Lord Mictlan enters a scene, the entire color temperature of the world shifts to a sickly, oppressive green and gold. It’s subtle storytelling that shows a high level of directorial control.
Actionable Insights for Your Next Watch
If you are going to dive into Maya and the Three, or if you're planning a rewatch, here is how to actually get the most out of the experience:
- Watch it on the biggest screen possible. Do not watch this on your phone. The scale of the "Gate of the Seven Underworlds" deserves a TV.
- Pay attention to the background art. The murals and carvings in the temples actually foreshadow the entire plot of the series.
- Listen to the score. Gustavo Santaolalla (who did The Last of Us) and Tim Davies created a soundtrack that blends traditional indigenous instruments with orchestral swells. It’s phenomenal.
- Look up the actual deities. After an episode, Google "Mictlantecuhtli" or "Cipactli." Seeing how Gutiérrez translated these ancient, often terrifying descriptions into character designs is a fun rabbit hole.
- Don't skip the credits. The art shown during the credits of each episode provides extra context and beautiful still-frame illustrations that expand the lore.
Maya and the Three isn't just a show; it's a finished piece of art. It’s a rare example of a creator being given a massive budget and the freedom to tell a specific, culturally rich story with a definitive beginning, middle, and end. It’s a reminder that animation is a medium, not a genre, and it can carry the weight of an epic just as well as any live-action blockbuster.