When I was a child and cable television was in its infancy, I probably watched the Disney Channel more than any other. Because of its newness, the network struggled to provide programming throughout a twenty-four-hour period, and much of it was unoriginal outside of updates to The Mickey Mouse Club. It was through this medium that I was first exposed to the classic cartoons of Mickey Mouse and friends because that was one of the ways they filled the time. Another way they provided content was by airing reruns of old television shows like The Adventures of Zorro (1957-1961). While I was too young to recognize such things at the time, and do not remember the show well anyway, I likely missed any of the deep Catholic connections that are a part of this swashbuckling hero. That was how I knew the character until Antonio Banderas donned the trademark black costume for The Mask of Zorro (1998) and The Legend of Zorro (2005). Again, I do not recall much Catholicism in them, either. If you want to see such things, then I recommend taking a look at a movie they remade a few times, The Mark of Zorro (1940).

Despite mostly taking place in California, The Mark of Zorro begins in Madrid, where Don Diego Vega (Tyrone Power), an accomplished horseman and one of the finest swordsmen in Spain, receives an urgent summons from his father to return to Los Angeles. Diego reluctantly leaves his military life and sails home, expecting to find the prosperous community he remembers. Instead, he discovers frightened peasants being squeezed by excessive taxes and soldiers abusing anyone who cannot pay. His father, Don Alejandro Vega (Montagu Love), explains that he has been forced out as alcalde and replaced by Don Luis Quintero (J. Edward Bromberg), a weak and corrupt official whose authority is enforced by the far more dangerous Captain Esteban Pasquale (Basil Rathbone). Diego initially appears appalled, but when his father and the other caballeros admit that open resistance would bring the army down upon them, he decides upon a less obvious strategy. The vigorous swordsman who left Spain seemingly disappears, replaced in public by a languid, fashion-obsessed young aristocrat who complains about California, performs parlor tricks, and appears interested in little beyond clothing and perfume. His parents are horrified by the change, which is precisely what Diego wants everyone else to believe. At night, he dresses in black, covers his face, and becomes Zorro, “the Fox,” robbing Don Quintero’s tax collectors and returning the money to the peasants from whom it was taken. His ally is Fray Felipe (Eugene Pallette), a Catholic friar who distributes the recovered money and supports Diego’s effort to defend the oppressed. Apparently, this Zorro understands that helping the poor is easier when one has a friar handling the charitable distribution. Zorro soon enters Don Quintero’s residence, frightens the alcalde into promising to resign, and orders him to restore Don Alejandro to office before escaping through the town and taking refuge in a church. Disguised beneath a priest’s robes, Diego encounters Don Quintero’s beautiful niece Lolita (Linda Darnell), whom he had already noticed upon returning home, and uses the opportunity to flirt with her before escaping his pursuers. Lolita is fascinated by the mysterious outlaw but considerably less impressed by Don Diego, whose affected uselessness makes him seem like an absurd prospective husband. Diego also begins flattering Don Quintero’s ambitious wife, Inez (Gale Sondergaard), filling her head with descriptions of fashionable life in Madrid because her desire to return to Spain can help persuade her husband to obey Zorro’s demand. Captain Pasquale, who is himself attracted to Inez, becomes increasingly irritated by Diego even while dismissing him as harmless. Hoping to bind the powerful Vega family to his regime, Don Quintero proposes that Diego marry Lolita. Don Alejandro rejects the idea, but Diego accepts because it advances his plans and, more importantly, because he genuinely loves her. At a dinner with the Quinteros, Diego continues his foppish performance until a dance with Lolita reveals flashes of the confident man beneath it. Later, he visits her privately and admits that he is Zorro. Her contempt for Diego vanishes rather quickly once she learns that the ridiculous aristocrat and the romantic outlaw are the same man. Meanwhile, Zorro continues humiliating Don Quintero’s government, but Captain Pasquale traces the stolen tax money to Fray Felipe. The friar is arrested as Zorro’s accomplice and threatened with execution. Lolita races to warn Diego, who has nearly succeeded in maneuvering Don Quintero into signing his resignation. Before the document can settle matters peacefully, Captain Pasquale arrives, tears it up, and confronts Diego. His suspicions sharpen when the supposedly delicate young man displays unexpected skill with a sword. The two begin by cutting candles before their confrontation becomes a furious duel through Don Quintero’s residence. Diego finally runs Captain Pasquale through, killing the one man capable of matching him with a blade. Don Quintero now realizes that Diego is Zorro and has him arrested. Diego is thrown into jail with Fray Felipe, and both face execution. Even behind bars, however, Diego refuses to abandon the theatrical tricks that helped conceal him. He convinces the jailer that he can transform a small coin into gold, distracts him long enough to seize his weapon, and escapes with Fray Felipe. When Don Quintero gathers the local caballeros and peasants to witness Zorro’s punishment, Diego instead bursts free and openly calls upon them to resist. Don Alejandro finally joins his son, and the people overwhelm Don Quintero’s soldiers in a general uprising. With Captain Pasquale dead and his troops defeated, Don Quintero has little choice but to resign and restore Don Alejandro as alcalde. Justice returns to Los Angeles without Diego needing to maintain his masquerade, and his romance with Lolita can finally proceed without either of them pretending she is marrying the useless man he invented. When Inez speaks eagerly of Madrid, Diego announces that he and Lolita intend to remain in California, marry, raise children, and watch their vineyards grow. He then tosses his sword into the ceiling, ending with the masked avenger’s work temporarily complete.

For this Catholic reviewer, however, the most interesting feature in The Mark of Zorro may be that Zorro’s resistance is not merely a private crusade: Fray Felipe and the mission stand alongside him, linking defense of the poor with a Faith that treats justice and charity as obligations rather than decorative virtues. This is not without historical precedent either, especially in the Americas. In Florida, for example, during Spanish rule, whenever Native peoples revolted against the colonial government, the clergy serving on the missions sided with the oppressed Native peoples. They may not have behaved as Fray Felipe does, however, who can handle a weapon and is seen bashing people over the head with a club during the climactic battle. It is a departure from usual friar comportment, but at least he asks God’s forgiveness after each blow. I guess I should not complain too much. Most films, particularly early ones, did not get everything right. An example of this comes when Diego escapes Don Quintero’s forces in his guise as Zorro, taking refuge in the church. When he enters, there is . . . something happening. I cannot say it is Mass because Fray Felipe is not wearing the correct vestments, and everyone is huddled around him as he prays. It is an odd scene to watch as a practicing Catholic, especially when the altar has the correct look, but why are there no pews? Strange. Less strange, though, are the simple devotions on display throughout. I was less thrilled with characters saying “Santa Maria,” or “Holy Mary,” as an exclamation of surprise, which comes uncomfortably close to using a sacred name irreverently. Nonetheless, there are statues of Mary throughout, and we see characters giving the Mother of God Her due. To the uninitiated, I am sure this came off as those silly Catholics doing their brand of nonsense, but the important distinction is that Catholics venerate Mary; we do not worship Her. When we ask for Her intercession, we are asking Her to pray for us, not claiming that She possesses divine power of Her own. Any grace comes from God, and Mary’s intercession depends entirely upon Christ. Confusing Marian veneration with worship is a classic non-Catholic mistake.

What would not be a mistake is watching The Mark of Zorro, particularly if you are in the mood for some classic cinema. There are some fun stunts and a neat special effect when Zorro jumps his horse off a bridge. The Catholic stuff is pretty good, too.