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I discovered a while back that Disney+ was showing the 1957 Zorro series starring Guy Williams, and as someone who grew up with Lost in Space and always found Williams an extremely charismatic lead, I couldn’t resist the chance to see him in something where he got to stay the lead throughout, rather than being marginalized. I’ll get to talking about that show, but watching it inspired me to seek out other versions of Zorro, and over the past couple of years, I’ve managed to see essentially every English-language Zorro production I’m aware of, so that I could do a thorough survey (and I’ll include a few select foreign productions I’ve managed to see). Since this will be mostly broad overviews, I’m posting them here on my free blog instead of my Patreon (though of course, if you enjoy these free reviews, I hope you’ll consider subscribing to my Patreon reviews as well, since that helps me make a living). This will be a 9-part series, organized by category and only broadly by chronology.
I’ve been hesitant to post this now, as it might be bad timing given the recent investigations into the late Jeffrey Epstein’s “Zorro Ranch” for evidence of sex crimes committed there. I feared that if some story were to break about that in the near future, the association might taint any discussion of Zorro, or make it in poor taste to bring him up. But I’ve decided to go ahead anyway, as I’ve been working on this for years and don’t want it to go to waste. Zorro is a character with over a century of history, and I think he’s still well enough known as a hero (albeit with some problematical aspects of his own) that one infamous criminal’s appropriation of the name shouldn’t overshadow his cultural legacy.
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The original Zorro novel was a 1919 magazine serial called The Curse of Capistrano, written by Johnston McCulley. It was very much inspired by Robin Hood and by The Scarlet Pimpernel, the novel that pioneered the genre of the dual-identity hero, and Zorro, by donning a mask and costume, would in turn be the prototype for the superhero genre. The serialized novel was adapted a year later as a silent movie under the title The Mark of Zorro, and was subsequently reprinted under that title.
The Curse of Capistrano/The Mark of Zorro and its 1922 sequel The Further Adventures of Zorro arein public domain and available on Project Gutenberg as well as the Hoopla online library and elsewhere. Hoopla also has bare-bones audiobook editions of those two plus the other two McCulley serial novels, Zorro Rides Again (1931) and The Sign of Zorro (1941). McCulley published 58 more short stories about Zorro from 1932-59, overlapping the early films, the Republic serials, and the Disney TV series. They’ve been reprinted in a 6-part series called Zorro: The Complete Pulp Adventures in 2015-16, but I haven’t been able to find a library copy, so I can only cover the four novels. (It’s interesting that the Zorro canon includes four serialized novels and 58 stories, similar to the Sherlock Holmes canon’s four novels and 56 stories, and both series were contemporary with multiple screen adaptations of their characters.)
The Curse of Capistrano tells two parallel stories set in Spanish California, sometime in the early decades of Los Angeles’s existence (probably the 1790s, though McCulley’s version conflates elements of Spanish California, when the missions were dominant, and the later Mexican California, when ranches and caballeros became more important). One is a tale of the Robin Hood-like highwayman “Señor Zorro” (“Mister Fox”) leading a one-man insurrection against the corruption and cruelty of the colonial military under Captain Ramón and his hulking Sergeant Gonzales, as well as the equally corrupt governor. The other is the tale of the lazy, dissolute Don Diego Vega (it wouldn’t become “de la Vega” until the Disney series), a wealthy caballero (nobleman/landowner) whose father Don Alejandro wants him to marry Lolita Pulido, daughter of a once-proud family that’s been impoverished by the corrupt officials and wants to marry back into good standing. It’s as much or more a tale of courtly romance and manners as an adventure story, and involves a love triangle where Lolita is in love with the compelling Señor Zorro and lukewarm toward Don Diego.
It isn’t until Zorro finally kills Ramón in a duel and compels a pardon from the governor (with the backing of the caballeros) that he reveals to the readers and characters that he was Don Diego all along; he adopted the foppish persona as a cover, and was such a method actor that he feigned disinterest toward Lolita as Diego while courting her smolderingly as Zorro.
It’s a pretty well-written and entertaining story, but the action is sometimes implausible, as when Zorro crashes his horse into a group of charging lancers and somehow knocks them aside with no injury to his own horse. Some of it is hard to stomach, like how the Franciscan friars Zorro defends lament how badly they’re treated by the new regime after their great and noble achievement of conquering California and creating an empire. It’s plausible that colonialists would see it that way, but it makes them hard to empathize with.
Really, there’s a common thread throughout the various incarnations that’s distasteful in retrospect. Zorro adaptations are unusual among Westerns in showing Native Americans (including Diego’s deaf/mute servant Bernardo in the novel and some adaptations) as sympathetic characters whom the hero defends, but only because they’re subordinate “peons,” living in indentured servitude to “repay” their education and conversion to Christianity in mission schools. It’s just a step above slavery, but it’s portrayed as intrinsically benevolent except when corrupted by greedy individuals. As a landowner and colonizer, Diego is part of the oppressive system, but he’s portrayed as a champion of the oppressed. It hasn’t aged well, but for its day, I guess it could have been worse, since at least the hero is protecting Native Americans rather than slaughtering them like so many Western “heroes.”
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The Further Adventures of Zorro picks up the night before Diego’s wedding to Lolita. Captain Ramón (who it turns out was only “left for dead”) seeks vengeance on Diego/Zorro by hiring a pirate crew led by Captain Barbados to raid Los Angeles, attempt to kill Diego, and abduct Lolita to deliver unharmed to Ramón. Even though Diego’s identity as Señor Zorro is now public knowledge, he resumes the mask to pursue the pirates. The story establishes that his lazy, dissolute Diego persona isn’t just an act, but virtually an alternate personality, as he needs a challenge to get his blood flowing and engage his swashbuckling side. (Evidently romancing Lolita was not enough of a challenge by itself to get the job done.) He’s backed up by his fellow caballeros, who pursue the pirate ship in a trading schooner after Zorro manages to board it and harry the pirates from hiding until he’s discovered and thrown overboard. He makes it to shore and is rescued by a native peon whose father he once saved, and who directs him to the pirates’ stronghold.
But Ramón is playing both sides, conniving to betray the pirates and redeem his reputation by defeating them, and attempts various ploys to convince or compel Lolita to marry him. The caballeros are captured but eventually aid in the climactic battle, assisted by Sergeant Gonzales, who’s redeemed as their ally, becoming the template for the sympathetic comic-relief sergeant characters in later screen adaptations. Zorro finally confronts Ramón in a climactic duel, but Barbados stabs Ramón in the back before Zorro can stab him in the front.
Overall, it’s less interesting than the original, a straightforward narrative of chases and fights and reversals, relying too heavily on the stock melodrama trope of Lolita facing implied sexual threat from the villains and being ready to kill herself first. The most surprising thing is that the story doesn’t retcon away the exposure of Zorro’s identity, and indeed is catalyzed by his enemies directly targeting Diego’s loved ones for revenge. Even Ramón’s return from death is easy to reconcile with the original story, since he was still “twitching” at the end of his presumed death scene in Curse.
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Zorro Rides Again picks up three years later, establishing that Lolita fell ill after her abduction and has just returned from recuperating in Spain, so Don Diego is conveniently still unmarried. The story is initially coy about whether Diego has resumed being Zorro, and I briefly wondered if McCulley was restoring Zorro’s secret identity by having Diego claim someone else had taken over the role. But it soon becomes clear that an impostor Zorro is attacking innocent people to besmirch Zorro’s reputation, and Diego must go on the run from the new garrison commander Captain Valentino Rocha until he can find the impostor and clear his name. There were two suspects for the impostor, Rocha and an obnoxious trader named Sanchez, and I wrongly guessed it was Sanchez, as I was hoping McCulley wouldn’t just repeat himself with another evil captain.
But no, Rocha turns out to be the corrupt governor’s nephew and is seeking revenge on Zorro—since the novel retcons the previous one by having Diego claim to have killed Ramón himself. It could just be boasting, but the narrative goes on quite a bit about how a caballero’s word is unimpeachable. Inevitably, Rocha has designs on Lolita and attempts to persuade her to marry him, but much less is done with it this time around.
Diego spends the last half plotting to expose Rocha’s imposture publicly, but complications ensue and the way he eventually defeats Rocha shouldn’t really prove the case conclusively, though the story assumes it does. McCulley tacks on an additional villain, Don Estevan Garcia, asserted to be the governor’s right hand and the secret power behind the throne, but not much is done with him, so it’s unclear why he was added to the story. The novel is decent, but some of the plotting and writing feels sloppy, like McCulley was just trying to fill pages.
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McCulley published four short Zorro stories from 1932-35, three of which are summarized at https://www.zorrolegend.com/origin/mcculleystories.html. The summaries indicate that they treat Zorro’s identity as secret except to close associates, but I don’t know whether they attempt to justify the retcon. I don’t think they can take place during the original novel, since they feature characters introduced later. The subsequent 54 short stories published from 1944-59 were evidently in a similar vein.
McCulley returned to the character after a six-year hiatus with the 1941 serial novel The Sign of Zorro, a year after the sound remake of The Mark of Zorro (which I’ll cover in part 2). The novel is set around 1800 and Diego has retired from being Zorro for several years. He had married Lolita, but she died of fever, and Diego has regressed to his foppish, dissolute ways, so that the public no longer believes he was actually Zorro, a belief encouraged by the Vega family’s misinformation campaign. It’s a moderately plausible retcon, and at least Diego’s closest confidantes are still in the loop (including a reformed pirate named Bardoso who was a supporting character in Rides Again and is now one of Zorro’s main allies), though Sgt. Gonzales is back to seeing Zorro as an enemy of unknown identity, which is hard to reconcile with the previous two novels. Another major retcon is that Diego’s servant Bernardo has been cured of being mute, and his deafness is forgotten.
It takes surprisingly little to bring Zorro out of retirement, when Señorita Panchita Conchola requests his help in saving her brother Vicente, the new head of the household after their parents’ recent demise, from being manipulated by the devious Don Pedro Morelos, who’s convinced Vicente to accept his suit for Panchita’s hand and plans to steal the family’s wealth and disgrace Vicente in revenge for how their father treated him. Zorro resumes his outlaw ways to investigate, while Diego repeats his shtick from the original novel of languidly courting Panchita in a way that alienates her even though he genuinely is interested in her, which makes no more sense than it did the first time.
It turns out that Morelos and his associates have an evil plan to monopolize commerce in Alta California and rob the people blind, and Zorro offers his aid to the governor, a more honest successor to the previous evil governor. (There’s a fun scene where Zorro is prevented from sneaking out of the governor’s bedroom because people keep showing up on his patio, so Zorro has to hide under his bed like a paramour in a screwball comedy.) But the main focus remains on Diego/Zorro’s dual courtship of Panchita and his efforts to keep the hotheaded Vicente out of trouble. Although, like James Bond, Zorro is given a secondary love interest this time, a bad girl named Carmen who’s an accomplice of Morelos and whom Zorro seduces into helping him by leading her on to think he loves her, then gets rid of her by sending her to Monterey and lying that he’ll follow her, which makes him come off as rather a cad.
The governor pardons Zorro for exposing Morelos, and Diego challenges Morelos to a duel and dramatically reveals himself by marking Morelos with a Z. I’d thought this novel would explain why Zorro’s identity was a secret again in the later stories, but I guess not, since it ends the same way the first one did, with Diego revealed as Zorro, pardoned, and retiring to get married. Morelos even impersonates Zorro, rehashing a plot point from the third novel. Ultimately it’s an underwhelming tale, mostly a rehash of its predecessors. Perhaps McCulley wanted to go back to basics and retell a version of the original story for the benefit of fans of the recent movie, but it comes off as rather redundant.
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Next, I cover the early film adaptations, including the three (yes, three) different versions of The Mark of Zorro.