Originally published on May 25, 2022 on Letterboxd
I watch movie trailers a lot. If I’m bored and I have some time to kill, or I want to unwind briefly, I’ll see some trailers for films I haven’t seen and maybe some I have. It’s probably a weird time-filler, but trailers are great. They’re almost their own little form, a condensed adrenal rush that you can enjoy for 2-3 minutes. There are a few that I come back to from time to time because they’re so masterfully constructed, and the trailer for The Mask of Zorro is one of them. It’s difficult to decide how much of which scenes to show, how to order this jumble of images with certain sound effects, how much of the story to reveal, etc. and the trailer for this film is one of the best I’ve seen. I saw it a few months ago while on vacation in Florida, and I watched it a few more times that week to get that high again (along with the trailer for 1999’s Payback). I had not seen this film in years, maybe almost a decade, and upon my return home, I immediately rewatched it with my dad and brother.
It’s always a little depressing to watch a film this good. We all know all the ways in which modern Hollywood no longer resembles the magical movie machine we once knew, but every once in a while, I get a brutal reminder of the stark contrast between then and now. The Mask of Zorro reminded me of two types of films we no longer get, that of the epic film and the swashbuckler film. We still get a lot of movies with big budgets and casts, but they’re not like this. This period epic, with tons of staggering sets and location shooting, hundreds of extras milling about in any given frame, beautiful outdoor shots, twisty, personal narratives that involve many different characters and threads, we just don’t have stuff like this anymore. This film’s scale and practicality honestly reminded me of Michael Cimino and his sprawling tales, mainly due to the scope and the political landscape of the time being captured and intertwining with our hero’s story. As for the swashbuckler part, it’s almost entirely forgotten nowadays. Hollywood will periodically make a feeble attempt at an adventure picture, like this year’s Uncharted (which I won’t see), but almost never get any honest-to-God entires in the genre, let alone swashbuckler films, the almost entirely deserted sub-genre. When was the last time you saw a film with real horses and carriages, respectful but vicious sword battles, cool costumes, and a real sense of playfulness and fun? For me, it’s been a minute.
Getting the technical accolades out of the way, this movie has gorgeous location work, being that it was actually filmed in Mexico, with real sets constructed like the Hacienda and the mine. Critics like Ebert and Richard Shickel lauded the film’s swashbuckling throwback feel, action, and practicality, with Ebert remarking that the film is “a reminder of the time when stunts and special effects were integrated into stories, rather than the other way around.” Now, I’m no great Ebert respecter, but it’s interesting that he and others were bemoaning the loss of certain kinds of films in 1998, and that craftsmanship of this level was already on the way out then. I can only imagine what some of these people think of the kinds of films we are getting today.
This thing is jam-packed with some of the coolest, most stylish daredevil antics and derring-do you’ll find in a mainstream American blockbuster. The stuntmen get to perform lots of acrobatics and impressive feats, like when Zorro is leaping from rooftop to rooftop, jumping off of and onto things, swinging from tree branches and flag poles, flipping over objects and people, etc. and even jumping from horse to horse and surfing on two horses at once. Seriously, this has a chase in which Zorro moves between several horses, almost like the truck chase from Raiders of the Lost Ark, and it has maybe one of the most insane stunts I’ve seen in a film. The whole movie operates at this level, though, with the massive explosions and wild sword fights involving many different people. It’s so cool to see actors being so physical, and the duels look incredibly demanding (I get that Antonio Banderas and Anthony Hopkins had several stuntmen, but that still appears to be them doing a lot of their own stuff). Hopkins was apparently excited to do an action movie, and it shows. Even at his age, he’s really giving it everything he’s got when it comes to the fighting and swordplay. It’s appropriate that I mentioned Raiders earlier, because Spielberg apparently was involved as a producer on the project, and this honestly, reaches those Spielberg heights in regards to its spirit and technical prowess. It’s helmed by Martin Campbell, the man who revitalized the Bond franchise, and who gave us four of the greatest American blockbusters.
Banderas and Hopkins are both turning in career-best performances, with Banderas in particular completely inhabiting his younger Zorro with an energy and dynamism that you don’t often see in these types of pictures. Banderas at his most charming, his most physical, his romantic, and the same can be said for Hopkins. The two are quite the pair, almost father and son, with Diego de la Vega standing in for the bygone swashbuckling hero, passing the torch to Alejandro Murrieta, the new action hero. There’s much to be said for how the two handle both the legacy of the Zorro character and adventure heroes of old, and a lot of the film’s effortless distillation of years of cinema and history is owed to these two. This maintains the sense of adventure and respect for the main character that the 1975 Zorro had, as well as the dream casting (few stars have been more perfect for a role than Alain Delon and Antonio Banderas for this one).
Revenge, however morally wrong, is one of the great story themes. We are God-made beings, therefore, we are moral, or we at least have the capacity to be. When there is a wrong, we want to see it righted, especially if it happens to us. This is one of the great revenge stories in my eyes, just men being men, ferociously in pursuit of justice, with everything carefully planned just in time to come apart at the seams because of a woman. It’s not just the setting and influences that recall those old epics, but the real sense of romance and life, and the ideals at the center of the drama. Diego de la Vega and Alejandro Murrieta embody the masculine virtues almost to a fault, and their single-minded mission of shared vengeance is one of the most investing screen conflicts I’ve witnessed. It’s a story about two righteous, and righteously pissed off, guys tipping the scales back a bit after being pummeled by life and bad people. A towering obelisk of catharsis.
Men were made for greater things, for adventure, for dominion. We (men and women) are made in the image of God, so our desire for adventure is not out of boredom of life’s tedium and mundanity, but out of the unconscious knowledge that we are meant for greater things, for a larger story and adventure. This is why movies like The Mask of Zorro are often associated with boys’ tastes and why action and adventure films are often called “guy movies” while romances and dramas are often referred to as “chick flicks.” Men and women were both made in a unique and special way, with different roles, tastes, and hearts. Specifically for the man, in this case, it is a sense of duty and justice that compels him, and few films capture the spirit of protecting others, pursuing justice, and going after the woman you love more wholly and beautifully then this film, I think.
A large part of what makes this movie special has to do with the fact that our protagonists are true men. Our main character is a real man, but he’s a lost man, until someone older and wiser approaches him, until he’s touched by real life and woken up, finally ready to come into his own as a man and understand what life is about. Notice, both Alejandro and Diego are introduced in mildly cartoonish openings, fantastical interludes typical of a family adventure film, but both are immediately followed by the introduced character’s world being rocked by unspeakable real-world tragedy. It’s a nice parallel that reminds the audience of the stakes despite the constant playful spirit underlining the whole production. It’s a story of masculinity both found and regained, something that often can only happen through spiritual trials and tribulations. It’s also a nice reminder of the dangers of spiritual complacency. “Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he.” The book of Proverbs says. The most successful, memorable men and heroes in history were passionate, driven men with goals. Not to say that Diego is not so in the beginning of this film, but he has grown too comfortable. Tragedy reignites his fire, and it also does so for Alejandro for the first time.
The two are real men, driven by love, honor, and self-worth in the context of the larger story of their lives, unlike the antagonists, driven by greed, hate, and general evil. But it isn’t just the noble qualities that draw us to Diego and Alejandro, but also in their manner as men. They are both cunning, intelligent, rambunctious (Alejandro more so), and the father-son relationship that develops between them as Diego watches his protege grow into a true man is effective. Alejandro’s first night out as Zorro, a truly wonderful sequence, is like a young boy being allowed to do “adult things” for the first time, but it’s also someone elated at the idea of having purpose and something to live for, of getting a taste of the larger adventure. Is it any wonder that Elena is immediately taken with him? Not simply because girls like “bad boys” (though, this is true), but because women are attracted to genuine masculinity. The man she is currently being pursued by is not a man at all, but a dog dressed up as one and in service to small men and himself, but Zorro is in service of the people, slave to no one. He is truly living, and the woman recognizes this. Their subsequent romantic scenes only continue this line of analysis. Another interesting point of note is the importance of family in this narrative. Diego needs Elena back to give himself purpose, as she’s the only legacy he has. Alejandro swears vengeance for his brother, and when he takes it, he carves his family’s initial into his enemy. Everyone wears their last names and their heritage proudly, and one’s people is something to take pride in.
Maybe I’m just easily taken in by popcorn entertainment and the manipulative power of the crowd-pleaser, but I find a lot of truth and beauty in The Mask of Zorro. Godly men, truly seeking all that is good and pure, will be rewarded, despite all of the obstacles that they are sure to face. But things like love, family, and service of others and the less-fortunate are things worth facing those obstacles for. Now, such notions are often dismissed as “cheesy” and “schmaltzy,” but these are just words that we use to hide behind because we are embarrassed at the fact that we have abandoned ideas like this in our art, and that any calls to true adventure, no matter how big or small, are responsibilities we as a culture have never really been up for. Anyway, yeah, cool movie, makes me feel things that few films make me feel. One of the best out there, honestly.
Eye on Everything 