In 2019, on the 500th anniversary of Hernán Cortés’s arrival in Mexico, then-Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador sparked significant controversy across the Spanish-speaking world. He made a historic request to King Felipe VI of Spain, asking for an apology for the atrocities committed against Indigenous peoples during the Spanish conquest. This demand ignited a public dispute that continued into the presidency of López Obrador’s successor, Claudia Sheinbaum. Following the King of Spain’s refusal to issue the long-sought apology, he was not invited to Sheinbaum’s inauguration as Mexico’s first female president. In response, the Spanish government, led by Pedro Sánchez of the Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party, chose not to send any representative to the ceremony at all.
However, outside the realm of official diplomacy, Spain’s response to Mexico’s demand has manifested in a lavish, flamboyant musical performance that has captivated audiences in Mexico City and beyond. This production is none other than *Malinche*, a musical that presents a romanticized version of the Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire through the lens of La Malinche, the Indigenous woman who served as Cortés’s translator and bore his child. The interpretation of her character varies widely; she is seen as a hero, a victim, or a traitor, making her an archetypal figure in Mexican history and culture. The term *malinchista*, derived from her name, remains a derogatory label for Mexicans who are perceived to prefer foreign—particularly European or North American—cultures and products.
In *Malinche*, the title character is portrayed as a courageous, idealistic heroine who inspires Cortés with her songs, embraces Christianity, and is depicted as consistently truthful and supportive in her translations. This version aligns with traditional Mexican nationalist narratives, culminating in La Malinche giving birth to the first *mestizo* (mixed Spanish-Indigenous) child. The musical reframes this moment not as a tragedy, but rather as a celebratory conclusion to a grand romance, positioning her as the symbolic mother of all Mexicans.
Currently running in Mexico City through at least November, *Malinche* first debuted in Madrid earlier this year. The production was buoyed by substantial public subsidies from the local government, controlled by the center-right Partido Popular, which stands in opposition to Spain’s ruling socialists. Marketed as an “experience” akin to “Las Vegas and Broadway,” there are whispers of an English-language version in the works, aimed at touring the United States. A Netflix documentary chronicling the musical’s creation has also been produced. Now several months into its run, *Malinche* has proven to be a box office hit, replicating its success from Spain.
Despite its popularity, *Malinche* has not been without controversy. The musical’s creator, the aging Spanish rock star Nacho Cano, has faced legal troubles for violating Spanish labor and immigration laws regarding the employment of Mexican cast members, who initially entered Spain on tourist visas. Furthermore, Cano has made headlines for securing favorable deals with local Madrid authorities to construct what has been described as the “largest stage in Europe” for the production. His politically charged statements, including a claim that “Sánchez is coming for me” following his legal battles, suggest a deeper divide in Spain’s politics, particularly regarding the portrayal of the nation’s imperial past.
While Spain’s controversies primarily focus on the production techniques rather than the content, the response in Mexico has centered on the musical’s historical representations. The true events surrounding the fall of the Aztec Empire are complex and multifaceted, yet *Malinche* simplifies this narrative, depicting the Aztecs—as they referred to themselves, the *Mexica*—in a one-dimensional light as bloodthirsty savages fixated on human sacrifice. Such portrayals have drawn ire from modern historians, who argue that this characterization is a gross oversimplification of a rich and nuanced history.
The musical takes significant artistic liberties. For example, while the circumstances surrounding the death of the last Aztec emperor, Moctezuma, are still debated, there is no credible historical account suggesting that he accepted Christianity on his deathbed, a dramatic twist fabricated for theatrical effect. Despite its historical inaccuracies, the staging of Moctezuma’s death is visually impressive, with the character being carried off by an angel descending from the rafters—a fitting metaphor for the production’s overall impression: technically dazzling but historically dubious.
*Malinche* resonates deeply within the Spanish-speaking world, touching on sensitive topics regarding the interpretation of both Indigenous and Spanish heritage. While many theatergoers may view the musical as light entertainment, it is crucial to recognize that audiences are likely to be disproportionately composed of wealthier Mexicans who may not object to Cortés as a heroic figure or La Malinche as a romantic icon.
Spain continues to wield significant cultural and economic influence in its former colonies, evidenced by the countless branches of Spanish banks like Santander and BBVA in Mexico City. Concurrently, Madrid has emerged as a major Latin American city, with a surge in immigration from the region, particularly as the United States tightens its borders. The migration of *Malinche* from Madrid to Mexico City underscores the musical’s ambition to carve out a prominent place in the cultural exchange between the two regions, whether that culture is emerging, reemerging, or simply enduring.
The handling of colonial history in the Spanish-speaking world starkly contrasts with attitudes found in the Anglosphere. It is hard to envision a musical with an uncritical portrayal of English colonialism being accepted in the English-speaking world today. Various productions, from *Hamilton* to *Back to the Future*, engage critically with historical injustices, while *Malinche* presents a sanitized vision of a mass baptism of Indigenous peoples as a triumphant moment.
Yet, the Spanish-speaking world grapples with its own culture wars surrounding its past. Issues stemming from the Spanish conquest and Indigenous dispossession remain contentious in Latin America. In Chile, President Gabriel Boric’s constitutional referendum faltered partly due to proposed rights for Indigenous groups like the Mapuche. In Guatemala, trials are underway for perpetrators of a U.S.-backed genocide against the Maya. In the United States, Latin American migrants of Indigenous descent face significant abuses within the immigration system, compounding existing challenges.
AMLO’s initial push for a Spanish apology for the conquest resonated profoundly because many injustices, both historical and contemporary, remain unresolved. Yet, in both Spain and much of Latin America, there appears to be a persistent belief that Spanish explorers, missionaries, and conquistadors, while not entirely virtuous, were at least a mixed blessing, spreading Spanish culture and language worldwide. Many on the political right in Mexico and across Latin America continue to admire the Spanish conquest, viewing it as the foundation of shared cultural and religious heritage.
Even those who reject favorable interpretations of the conquest, such as members of Mexico’s ruling Morena party, still find themselves influenced by Spain, often using it as a counterpoint to new nationalist narratives that resonate with the Indigenous and mestizo majority. Since Mexico’s War of Independence, the Aztecs have served as a symbol of national identity, free from subsequent Spanish influence. Yet, the seamless transition of a musical about colonial history from Madrid to Mexico City highlights the enduring presence of Spanish influence.
La Malinche’s historical significance complicates narratives surrounding Mexico’s past, but unfortunately, the creators of *Malinche* have not succeeded in crafting a more nuanced story. The musical concludes abruptly with the massacre of Spanish forces by the Aztecs during the *Noche Triste*, followed by the birth of La Malinche and Cortés’s child. The final number, titled “Mexico Mágico,” celebrates this birth as the inception of Mexico itself, delivering a clear message from Spain to Mexico: if La Malinche is your mother, then Spain still claims the role of father. Thus far, many Mexicans have shown a willingness to financially support this portrayal, purchasing tickets to engage with this contentious retelling of their shared history.
