Zorro (2024), scripted by Carlos (Velvet Collection) Portela and directed by Javier Quintas, Jorge Saavedra and Jose Luis Alegria, is a Spanish/English-dubbed series produced by Secuoya Studio (and queued through Amazon Prime). It follows a path similar to Lee Falk's Phantom, wherein Zorro's manifestations are part of a decades-long line. Unlike Falk's persona, however, this redesign of Johnston McCauley's Californian Robin Hood isn't a family affair, but more one of preordained summoning.
As such, when the 10-part series' prelude Zorro, a Native-American crusader, played by Cristo Fernandez, perishes, his trained-in-the-crusader-arts sister, Dahlia Xiuhcoatl's Nah-Lin expects to assume his role. She's disappointed to find Miguel Bernardeau's Don Diego del la Vega waiting in the destined wings.
In truth, Don Diego has engaged a specialized sojourn, fine-tuning his stealthy skills in Spain (ala Bruce Wayne training in Tibet with the League of Shadows), but it's the ethereal signs of Nah-Lin's tribe that come to chose Don Diego as the heir apparent. This leads to great derision within Nah-Lin, as she tries to sabotage Don Diego's efforts to expose a government that proclaims to be magnanimous, but cares little for its people.
It's the mysterious Clan of the Bear that bolsters this disagreeable hierarchy, working as an early version of Gotham's Court of Owls (i.e., a cover for puppet magistrates). It turns out that the Clan murdered Don Diego's upper-crust father. This melodramatic linchpin is flavored by some Russian mingling and an intense, inheritance subplot. (Nah-Lin buffers the collective strand for much of the saga, often succeeding as a sly, counter "fox," yet cut from an unflinching, Damian Wayne cloth, or if perceived from at lighter vantage, an agitated imprint of Linda Stirling's Barbara Meredith of Zorro's Black Whip.)
Though the chapters are told through a linking stream, some installments are near autonomous. This gives the series a pleasing balance, as does its exceptional, supporting cast: Renata Notni as Don Deigo's unrequited love, Lolita Marquez; Emiliano Zurita as lawmen Enrique Sanchez de Monsterio (Marquez's fiancé, who's coerced toward immoral deeds, though holds a virtuous heart); Andres Almedia as Lotlita's high-strung father, Tadeo; Elia Galera as Lolita's mother, Lucia, who harbors a startling secret; Randolfo Sanchez as the acerbic Governor Pedro Victoria (the series' predominant antagonist); Peter Veves as sedulous reporter, Janus Carver; Cuatli Jimenez as the prophetic Cuervo Nocturno; Ana Layevska as the unscrupulous Irina Ivanova; Cecilia Suarez as the treacherous Guadalupe Montoro; Paco Tous as Don Deigo's endearing, Alfred-ish valet, Bernardo (who rather resembles the late, great Freddy Fender); Chacha Huang as Don Diego's beleaguered, but facetious maid, Mei, among other refined characters and thespians.
This extravagant event holds passion and vigor, emphasizing its characters and their motives throughout, as well as mounting ample action, which includes spirited whip-snapping, gun-toting and Olympian athleticism. Along the way, the dialogue is crisp and never stilted, with the best subtitling/dubbing perhaps ever rendered for any production, whether on the big screen or small.
That El Zorro still enthralls after his advent of more than a hundred years shows how much his emblematic stature is appreciated. Considering the socio-economic damage that now erodes from Mexico to the U.S. (with Zorro's once cherished California being a jolting case in point), the hero's justice-serving adage is needed more than ever. With that said, bring on Season 2! If the implication is sincere, an extensive, old-time, New York expedition awaits.
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