When Netflix released “El Eternauta”, the highly anticipated on-screen adaptation of the iconic 1957 Argentine dystopian comic written by Héctor Germán Oesterheld. the world was invited into a deeply local, politically charged narrative that had never before reached such a large-scale global audience. Translating this story raised an age-old but increasingly relevant question:
To what extent should movies and literature be localized when translated—and where do we draw the line between accessibility and authenticity?
This question surfaced with particular clarity in the subtitles, where the professional translator hired to manage the multilingual subtitling team and create the subtitles in English intentionally opted to use the term “Malvinas Islands” instead of the more internationally familiar “Falkland Islands.” At first glance, it may seem like a minor editorial choice, perhaps even an error. But it reveals the translator’s deep cultural and ethical commitment to the Argentine original—and forces us to reexamine how we approach translation when it comes to artistic and literary works.
Translation Fidelity vs. Accessibility: A Balancing Act
Translators often walk a tightrope between two opposing goals:
1) staying faithful to the original text, and
2) making the content understandable and relatable for a new audience.
In many cases, localization is helpful or even necessary. Idioms, humor, currency, and measurements often need adapting to make sense in the target language. But El Eternauta is not just any story—it’s an Argentine story. Its themes, dialogue, and symbolism are heavily shaped by the country’s political past, military dictatorship, and social trauma.
So when Juan Salvo, the story’s protagonist, is revealed to be a veteran of the Malvinas War, the use of “Malvinas Islands” instead of “Falkland Islands” becomes a powerful act of narrative integrity. As the lead subtitle translator has stated in a public post: “No Argentinian, real or fictional, would call the islands by any other name.”
The translator’s choice was not necessarily a political statement—but a cultural one. To call the islands the “Falklands” would be to rewrite the character’s voice and erase the national context in which the story is grounded.
When Culture Is the Story
There are moments in international storytelling where culture isn’t just flavor—it’s substance. In The Eternaut, that includes:
- A card name known as truco, with unique significance to the Argentine community
- Buenos Aires slang and working-class idioms
- Historical references to military conscription via lottery
- 1980s-era social tensions during the military regime
These elements anchor the story to a specific time and place. They’re not meant to be swapped out for equivalent Western terms—they’re meant to challenge the viewer, to educate, and to provoke deeper understanding.
Instead of softening or removing these details, the translators opted to support viewers with context—via subtle cues or carefully worded subtitles—while preserving the original terminology. It’s a reflection of a newer, more respectful approach to translation that values cultural integrity over mass appeal.
The Politics of Naming: Why “Malvinas” Matters
Language is never neutral—especially when it comes to war, colonial history, and contested sovereignty. In Argentina, “Malvinas” is more than just a name. It represents a national wound, a rallying war cry, and a deep cultural memory.
For context, the “Islas Malvinas” is the Spanish, and especially Argentine, term used to refer to what the English-speaking world knows as the Falkland Islands. In 1982, these islands were the object of a brief but intense conflict between Argentina and the United Kingdom. Argentina, under a military dictatorship at the time, launched an invasion claiming sovereignty over the territory, located just 300 miles off the coast of the South American country. The UK responded with military force, resulting in a 10-week war that ended with British control reasserted. More than 600 Argentine and 255 British soldiers died in the conflict. Though the war ended over four decades ago, its emotional and political legacy remains raw in Argentina.
Using the British name “Falklands” in an Argentine production—particularly in a scene with a war veteran—would not just be inaccurate. It would be offensive.
The translator’s decision was backed by extensive research, context-sharing among a multilingual subtitling team, and an understanding that global distribution doesn’t justify cultural erasure. By ensuring “Malvinas Islands” was used across all subtitle tracks—from Japanese to Czech—the team demonstrated that faithful translation is not about blind equivalence, but thoughtful representation.
Where to Draw the Line in Localization
So when is localization helpful, and when does it dilute the message?
Localize when clarity is hindered by unfamiliar references, e.g. converting kilometers to miles; jokes or idioms would make no sense in the target culture; accessibility takes precedence over authenticity because there is a deep need for comprehension without altering core meaning.
Do not localize when the original term carries emotional, political, or historical weight; the term reflects character identity or national voice; and altering it would break narrative authenticity.
The Eternaut makes the case that some elements—such as “Malvinas,” “truco,” or conscription lotteries—must remain untouched. They’re cultural fingerprints, not props.
Trusting the Global Audience
At the heart of this translation philosophy is trust—trust that audiences around the world are capable of learning and adapting. The decision to retain culturally specific terms treats viewers as intelligent, curious people who want to engage with different worldviews, not have them filtered or flattened.
This isn’t just good translation—it’s good storytelling. It elevates rather than dilutes, and invites the audience to step into a different reality, even if it’s momentarily uncomfortable or unfamiliar.
Final Thoughts: Cultural Integrity in Global Media
El Eternauta is more than a sci-fi tale—it’s an archive of Argentine identity, memory, and trauma. Translating it with respect meant refusing to anglicize its pain or undermine its perspective. That’s why decisions like using “Malvinas Islands” matter—not as political statements, but as a commitment to truth.
In an era of ever-expanding global media, translators have more power—and more responsibility—than ever. They are not just language technicians. They are cultural guardians.
As The Eternaut shows, the line between localization and authenticity is not set in stone—but when in doubt, it’s sometimes wiser to preserve the original and let the audience lean in and learn.