REVIEW
ZORRO, THE DULL BLADE
Hollywood's newest version of the pulpy Spanish saga asks but doesn't answer the important question: "¿Donde está Señor Rodriguez?"

BY KIM MORGAN
243-2122 EXT.342

 

The Mask of Zorro
Rated PG
Now playing

No mystery, no moustache and no Robert Rodriguez. How can The Mask of Zorro succeed?

As director of the low-budget tour de force El Mariachi and two of the best and most underrated action/horror films of late (Desperado, From Dusk till Dawn), original director Rodriguez was so well-suited for this project that it's almost painful to think of what he would have done with it. Sadly, we'll never find out. Though it should have been Rodriguez's baby from start to finish, the film was taken from him and eventually came to be directed by Goldeneye's Martin Campbell.

Steven Spielberg and his goody-goody Amblin Entertainment are to blame for the no-win situation. As executive producer of Hollywood's latest take on Zorro, the Lost World director almost entirely drains the blood, balls and bravado out of what could have been one of the most exciting films of the summer. Almost.

Anthony Hopkins plays Diego de la Vega, a nobleman who has battled Spanish oppression in California through his superhero-like alter ego, Zorro, defender of the common people. Fighting against Montero (Stuart Wilson), the shifty Spanish governor of Alta California, Zorro meets a cruel fate: Montero kills his wife, Esperanza (Julietta Rosen), kidnaps his daughter, Elena (Catherine Zeta-Jones), and throws him in a prison to rot. But Zorro resolves to reverse his fortune.

Twenty years after the heinous tragedy, the swashbuckling daredevil escapes from prison and learns of Montero's current plan: to purchase California from Mexico's president, General Santa Anna, and make the state an independent country under his rule.

Though still as clever, the aged Zorro is not quite as agile as he used to be and must find a replacement. He happens upon the bandit Alejandro Murieta (Antonio Banderas), who is drinking away the sting of his brother's recent death at the hands of Montero's right-hand man, Captain Harrison Love (Matt Letscher). Zorro cleans Murieta up, trains him in the arts of whipping, horseback heroics and swordsmanship and teaches him Zorro's true mark--to always act as a gentleman. From there, Zorro and Murieta seek revenge and eventually claim the lovely Elena (as daughter and lover, respectively).

The film, however, can't match Elena's charm. Though it's no debacle, Zorro isn't snappy enough. Dragging on far too long at 130 minutes, it's nothing but an epic buildup with little payoff. Where are the thousands of sword battles? Where is the clever carnage? Where is the mythic sensationalism of the world's sexiest hero? With the absent Rodriguez, that's where.

Those along for the ride are left

to atone for replacement director Campbell's creativity gaps. As the Merlin-like teacher, Anthony Hopkins makes a perfect Zorro. His voice, countenance and watery-blue eyes, as well as his impressive handling of a whip, are all convincing. Hopkins takes utterly stupid dialogue and moves one to tears with his magnificent delivery.

Banderas is similarly perfect--though that's almost too weak a description. The handsome Spanish actor is the best Zorro ever. He has all the physical attributes that make Zorro "the fox" that he is (except for the thin mustache, which was probably too homoerotic for Spielberg's taste), but he also exhibits the smarts and wit that drive the character's rugged individualism. Regardless of what some have said, Banderas is not a cheesy celluloid version of Fabio. An excellent actor who's frequently called on by the legendary director Pedro Almodóvar, the star plays to his genetic superiority with impeccable comic timing.

Rodriguez already knew this about Banderas, which is why he cast him as the mobster/father of demonic children in Four Rooms and as the sexy hero of his over-the-top spectacle Desperado. Like the vastly misunderstood Desperado--which many viewed only as a "sell-out" version of Rodriquez's indie miracle El Mariachi--Banderas manages to simultaneously lampoon his Latin lover status and seduce the audience with his qualities of humility, compassion and grace.

Unfortunately, Campbell and Spielberg suck every last drop of flesh and blood that the actors have to give in this soulless effort. The filmmakers lack the sexy, explosive and wicked rhythms necessary for this mythic portrait. Zorro needed a director who would not quake with fear of the virile energy oozing out of its stars, who could harness all of this sizzling machismo and hammer us into delicious submission with it. Zorro needed Rodriguez. This Zorro is kids' stuff.

 

originally published July 22, 1998