‘The Mask of Zorro’ is the Last Great Swashbuckler
The Scoop features personal essays on movie-centric topics.
By Elliott Cuff
Whether it’s being used to describe the latest output by Marvel or DC Studios, superhero fatigue has become the latest cinematic buzzword. Hollywood has become inundated with stories of extraordinary heroes fighting crime and injustice, either in the name of lawful activism or questionable vigilantism, and for some the frequency of these stories has become overbearing.
But here’s the thing: superhero movies have always existed, way before people began to claim the market had become oversaturated and that quantity had started to trump quality. Before X-Men (2000) and Spider-Man (2002) kicked off the comic-book superhero boom in earnest, heroic characters such as The Three Musketeers and Robin Hood were staple cinematic superheroes.
While those characters debuted theatrically in the early 1920s and have each been adapted for film on countless occasions since, you need to look slightly further back to the year 1920 to see the dawning of the very first fictional, cinematic, masked crusader: Zorro.
The Mark of Zorro (1920) was a landmark film for the development of action-adventure cinema, adapted from the 1919 novel The Curse of Capistrano by Johnston McCulley. Douglas Fairbanks brought to life a character who infused romance with swashbuckling action, immediately becoming the prototype for many of the most popular modern heroes.
But it wasn’t until more than 70 years later that Zorro and the swashbuckler film would be perfected, with Martin Campbell directing and with Antonio Banderas donning the Fox’s mask in The Mask of Zorro (1998).
Swordplay with a smile
Coming off the back of James Bond favorite GoldenEye (1995), The Mask of Zorro was somewhat of a departure for Campbell, whose only other foray into action cinema was the dystopian thriller No Escape (1984). GoldenEye notably revitalized the Bond franchise after a six-year hiatus, but Campbell would trade in high-tech gadgets and scintillating spy action for a more grounded approach with Zorro, exploring the complexities of 19th century Las Californias politics.
Catherine Zeta-Jones and Antonio Banderas in The Mask of Zorro.
The Mask of Zorro opens with a whimsical action sequence that immediately sets the tone for the rest of the movie, aided by stunning vistas, ornate period costumes, and captivating swashbuckling action—the energy of which is delightfully preserved in-camera. Don Diego de la Vega (Anthony Hopkins) arrives on the scene as our titular famed hero of the people, fighting and running rings around Spanish soldiers under the order of Don Rafael Montero, a corrupt governor who aims to execute three random peasants simply because he can.
It’s instantly clear why Zorro has retained such cultural relevance and endearment from this sequence alone: much like Robin Hood, Zorro is a defender of the common folk, and his skill and swordplay proficiency are matched only by the charisma that bursts from his smile. De la Vega is able to thwart Don Rafael with the aid of two young peasant boys, Joaquin and Alejandro Murrieta, the latter of whom is portrayed by Banderas following a 20-year time jump after the conclusion of the opening sequence.
The Mask of Zorro is defined by how it’s able to combine romance, comedy, and entertaining action together seamlessly, and each of these elements are firmly on display in this opening sequence. De la Vega offsets the dark tone of Montero’s actions with nimble feet and a noble tongue, not to mention an old-fashioned style of romance shown through the relationship with his wife Esperanza before the heartbreaking conclusion of the sequence, which is accentuated by James Horner’s sweeping score.
Campbell borrows plenty from traditional adventure serials and the swashbucklers of old, allowing each action sequence to grow into a cacophony of environmental acrobatics. If De la Vega’s Zorro was majestic and dutiful in his application of vigilantism, Alejandro is much rougher around the edges—talented with a rapier, undeniably, but much more prone to moments of effective physical comedy that border on slapstick.
Banderas makes the approach work; Alejandro has an aura about him, an indelible charm that makes him at all times captivating, whether he’s posing as a nobleman and dancing with Montero’s beautiful and “very spirited” daughter Elena (Catherine Zeta-Jones), or standing on the backs of two horses as though they were skis in a magnificent chase sequence. Banderas perfectly encapsulates the spirit of a swashbuckler. His total control over that archetype is best seen in one of the movie’s greatest sequences: a stable-set sword-fight between Alejandro and Elena that is brimming with comedy and sexually charged chemistry.
The lost art of whimsical action and heart
Strictly speaking, The Mask of Zorro isn’t a Western, but certain trope similarities and its dusty setting could see it passed off as one. Both heroes and villains alike are anything but morally ambiguous, at least from the surface. Don Rafael and his cold second-in-command Captain Love are single-minded villains who care little about the lives of peasant folk. It’s power and wealth they each crave, and their one-note characterizations work because of the old-fashioned style of storytelling.
De la Vega and Alejandro meanwhile aren’t morally clear-cut either. Alejandro is spurred on by the thought of revenge and only begins to care about the people after he sees the extremity of their suffering first-hand, while De la Vega’s age and world-weariness have closed him off from his former folk hero persona, resulting in him truly caring little about the peoples’ well-being over the safety of Elena, right up until a last-minute change of heart. Our heroes are still heroes, but they show the same emotional and moral complexity as the more modern superheroes who now dominate the silver screen.
“It’s instantly clear why Zorro has retained such cultural relevance: he’s a defender of the common folk, and his sword skills are matched only by his charisma.”
Aside from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise and perhaps the many iterations of Robin Hood, Hollywood has largely turned its back on the big-budget swashbuckler, all but crowning The Mask of Zorro as the last great non-fantasy film from the genre. Superhero blockbusters continue to bring together comedy, romance, and action for each tentpole mega-hit, but the precise alchemy that generated so much heart and whimsical spirit in the action-adventure movies of old has been lost in the modern shuffle. As some always say, they just don’t make movies like this anymore.
Speaking about Zorro in the final scene, Alejandro declares “he has been many different men.” He’s referring to the mantle that has been passed down to him, but in a way he’s also addressing the history of the character itself. Zorro has been a cultural icon for more than a century, passed down from one actor to the next, and The Mask of Zorro is the culmination of decades of cinematic heroism. It was our superhero classic before superhero products dominated en masse—the only difference being the costume and the mask.
Elliott Cuff is a writer, journalist, and film enthusiast. Follow him on Instagram @elliottlovesmovies.