*Spoilers.*
Literally, the “Maya and the three” of the title. This miniseries is so much more than I thought it would be after the first couple of episodes, and a huge part of that is down the warriors Maya finds to join her on her quest. It’s a great miniseries for a lot of reasons, but at the top of that list, for me, is the relationship that develops between Maya, Rico, Chimi, and Picchu.
Maya and the Three begins in a way that mades me assume I knew what sort of story it was going to be. Oh, the scrappy, rough ‘n’ tumble princess hates the idea of being forced to be a royal diplomat with her mother while her brothers get to fight on the battlefield with her father? Cue the Badass Girl Power anthem! Even Maya’s initial reinterpretation of the prophecy aligns with that notion. She correctly realizes that the Eagle Warrior (her) needs to join with a warrior from each of the other kingdoms, and she figures that those warriors will be the women/girls in charge of each kingdom: the Gran Bruja, the Widow Queen, and the Barbarian Princess. Four female badasses from assorted generations coming together to save all their kingdoms from a warmongering god? Make that a whole soundtrack of Badass Girl Power anthems!
But the other warriors aren’t the leaders of their respective kingdoms. Wherever she goes, Maya is directed instead toward someone outcast. Rico is an immensely powerful wielder of peasant magic, but a traumatic accident involving magic in his childhood makes him afraid of his own abilities. Chimi was cast out of her village as an infant because her neighbors feared her albinism, and in her exile, she became an expert warrior with only animals for company. Picchu is a skilled fighter who’s built like a brick wall, but he’s haunted by the ghosts of those killed by an enemy he showed mercy to. Each is broken and beautiful.
As the four come together and haltingly get to know each other along their journey, we’re treated to an engaging range of personalities. Rico is an anxious jokester, constantly talking to “lighten the mood” for fear of what he might find in the silence. Chimi is a highly-guarded woman of few words, full of gentle compassion for all animals but forever waiting for the other shoe to drop with any human who shows her kindness. Picchu is uncomplicated and earnest, open with his emotions amid his pidgin language. At the center of these disparate misfits is Maya trying to hold the group together. She’s fierce and commanding, and those are the traits she tends to lean on, but a well she goes to less often is her strong empathetic streak—as she navigates her new friends’ trauma and damage, she finds the latter serves her more than the former.
Each of “The Three” is a wonderfully-realized character in their own right, heartbreaking in their turn while also delivering cool action and entertaining laughs. And in addition to just loving each of them for themselves, I really like the effect they have on Maya. Our heroine begins the miniseries with an enormous chip on her shoulder. She’s discontented with her life and rails against the unfairness of it, and when she discovers a shocking truth about her parentage – that she was born after her father had a dalliance with the Goddess of Death – she lashes out at her family for it. I get that she’s going through a lot, but she takes it all out on those around her. In meeting Rico, Chimi, and Picchu, Maya begins to understand what true hardship can be and gains a great deal of perspective on her own life. By the time she returns home, she’s more than ready to appreciate everything she has, using her gifts and blessings to support those to whom life hasn’t been as kind. And to me, that’s a much bigger victory for her than being a sword-wielding badass fulfilling a prophecy.
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