Zorro has the necessary resources to be a luxurious adaptation of the vigilante character created by the writer Johnston McCulley in 1919 and popularized, among others, by Antonio Banderas in the films of Martin Campbell. The locations, the sets to recreate 19th century California or the efforts in figuration and costumes reveal this potential. But the series, which Prime Video premiered in its entirety on Friday and which arrives on La1 this Sunday, is a disaster that takes us back to the times of Águila Roja.
This should not be taken as a disregard for the accessible adventure genre for the whole family. The problem is that there are those who seem to see the genre as a place to lower the bar of quality and get carried away by lazy, irresponsible and often ridiculous trends. Seeing an actress with her hair and makeup as if she had to go out to the club or have an Instagram photo shoot, so we understand each other, is a way to cheapen other production efforts.
The television adaptation, created by Galician Carlos Portela, begins with two deaths. Alejandro de la Vega (Luis Tosar) is murdered on his own ranch in Los Angeles. The authorities reveal to his son Diego (Miguel Bernardeau), returning from Spain, that he died at the hands of Zorro, a local vigilante who was murdered that same night. He soon discovers that it was not like that, so he decides to investigate the crime and avenge his father while he flirts with an old girlfriend, Lolita (Renata Notni), engaged to another.
He does not expect to carry out this mission wearing the mask of Zorro. But, when a fox appears to him in the middle of the night and he follows it, he meets a native leader (Cuauhtli Jiménez) who clarifies his destiny: the forces of nature have chosen him as the successor of the vigilante, so He must ride his horse and wield his sword. This does not excite Nah-Lin (Dalia Xiuhcoatl), who considers it an insult that a white, foreign, blue-eyed newcomer has to be the savior of his community.
It is appreciated that someone says out loud something that the viewer inevitably thinks: why on earth does Bernardeau have to be the one chosen by mystical forces when, a priori, there are more capable and non-colonial people who can help local society from the authenticity. But explicitly putting a contradiction in the script does not erase it: Zorro, as a series, demonstrates an understanding of native culture as a folkloric and opportune element to give color to the story. There is no real, intimate or genuine interest observed.
The script, therefore, is one of the problems, partly due to the lack of verve in constructing the situations or setting out the romantic plot. Why does Diego de la Vega seem to be delighted to return when the reason that brought him back is the murder of his father? There has to be an intermediate point between presenting a gloomy production like Christopher Nolan and not even delving for three minutes into the personal drama and the relevant grief of the protagonist.
Another element that is impossible to overlook is, as we said, makeup and hair: the obsession with offering attractive characters from a contemporary perspective is so blatant that it prevents buying the fictional universe. The eye line is so obvious, the hair is so impeccable, that the sensation is the same as when a hanger microphone sneaks into a production: the illusion that the audiovisual should offer is broken.
And, since the direction confuses bringing the image to warm colors with building an atmosphere and offering playful fights with being essentially tacky, the production design, its main value, suffers. Of course, it would make for a crossover with Red Eagle if one day RTVE wants to resurrect the successful hero of an old school television that should not be recovered.