by Rich Elias, Jul 15, 1998

• Rated PG-13
• 136 Minutes
• 4 Stars

Zorro has been on screen or TV many times before, but never so handsomely. Anthony Hopkins stars as Don Diego, a nobleman in colonial California who fights Spanish oppression disguised as Zorro, the masked swordsman. His enemy, Governor Don Rafael Montero, tracks the fox to his lair, where he kills Don Diego's wife, steals his infant daughter, and imprisons the people's hero. Twenty years later, when Don Rafael returns from Spain, Don Diego escapes, but age prevents him from putting on the mask again. To further his revenge, he trains a young bandit named Alejandro Murieta (Antonio Banderas) to use the sword and whip with cool precision. Soon a new Zorro rides into the night. Elena, the purloined daughter now grown to womanhood, is a delectable complication. She grew up believing Don Rafael is her father, but a wild stirring in her blood forces her to wonder. The stirring gets wilder when she lays eyes on Alejandro, first as Zorro, then in disguise as a nobleman seeking to uncover Don Rafael's secret plans for California. Her breast, as they used to say, flutters.

So does ours. "The Mask of Zorro" swells with action and romance. The main purpose of the story is to make sure we cheer the hero and hiss the villain between swordfights, which are wonderfully gymnastic exhibitions of murder as fine art. These fight scenes are the best I've seen since Errol Flynn died. (The swordfight director coached Flynn in one of his last movies.)

Love is also a battle, with Elena intrigued by Alejandro and the masked swordsman. Lucky for her, they're the same guy. The one modern touch in this old-fashioned romance is to make Elena his equal in spirit and almost in strength. Catherine Zeta-Jones, who plays Elena, is so astonishingly beautiful you almost don't notice how she effortlessly transforms Elena into a woman worthy of Zorro. They go through a complicated mating ritual in which she refuses to surrender until he surrenders first. Love and war, for these two, amount to much the same thing, as a hot flamenco dance scene and, later, a sexy swordfight prove.

Chemistry. It's an odd term, but Banderas and Zeta-Jones have it on screen. And so do Hopkins and Banderas. It's the friction between two characters who have something extra together that the pasteboard script can't provide. The chemistry between the main characters makes you feel that all the exaggerated heroics arise from passions driving these characters. That makes "The Mask of Zorro" even more thrilling.

More impressive (to me at least) was the total lack of irony in this movie. I've complained for years about action movies or thrillers or romances which don't trust themselves to play it straight. They becomes parodies of the very formulas they depend on, movies like "Malice" or "Congo." Zorro, with his black mask, fiery stallion, limber sword, and general air of testosterone-laden machismo, seemed ripe for parody (and was parodied, unsuccessfully, in "Zorro the Gay Blade" years ago). This kind of hipness suggests we're too media savvy to let go at the movies. Because we know movies are a sham, we get films which confirm that, yes, movies are a sham. But what else is new? Is there anything wrong with a big story and strong characters who overwhelm us? Who make us gasp and swoon? This hasn't hurt "Gone With the Wind" from making money every time it's re-released.

"The Mask of Zorro" is shamelessly romantic and heroic. It includes touches of comedy, including a few Schwarzenegger-like one-liners for Banderas. But you have to think that director Martin Campbell spent months watching old Flynn and Douglas Fairbanks swashbucklers to figure out how to stage the action in this "Zorro." We get to watch Zorro swing across a room on a chandelier, watch him thrust and parry his way up a flight of stairs, and watch as the world's slowest fuse burns its way toward a cache of powder kegs. There's even a line when toward the end of the movie Don Rafael has Don Diego at swordpoint and actually says, "I have waited twenty years for this moment."

Can you believe anyone in the 90s could write this line with a straight face? We're much too hip these days. But the line is perfect, presented without irony as we sit on the edge of our seats, feeling like big little kids and saying, "Yes. This is what movies are supposed to be like." Big. Dumb. Awesome.

The movie has its flaws. Editing gets sloppy. The music tries so hard not to reprise the old Disney Zorro theme ("Out of the night, when the full moon is bright . . .") that you have to question music director James Horner's choices, especially in the closing credits. Earlier, he relies too much on chintzy flamenco music. Whenever Zorro unsheathes his sword, Horner cues the guitars and castanets. There was so much clicking that at first I though Banderas' knees were knocking.

But he's handsome. Zeta-Jones is gorgeous. Hopkins adds gravity. The scenery is stirring. And Zorro is a hero. What else could you possibly want?