In 2001, to honor Walt Disney's 100th birthday, the studio teamed up with film critic/historian Leonard Maltin to release a series of "Treasures" of early works culled from their extensive archives. Each subject gets a deluxe DVD set in a fancy tin case, with little collectibles and a numbered certificate of authenticity. Each set is introduced by Maltin who explains a little of the history and context of the presentation, and includes a disc of extras relating to the "making of" and background info. Three or four titles get the treatment on a roughly annual basis, and now they have worked their way up to Zorro- The Complete First and Second Seasons.
Zorro the character goes back to a 1919 pulp serialized story by Johnston McCulley. The stories caught the attention of early star Douglas Fairbanks and were almost immediately adapted into the 1920 silent The Mark of Zorro. A series of swashbuckling epics followed into the '40s with a succession of leading men. In 1957, Walt Disney threw his hat into the ring and took a stab at bringing the legend to TV. The Disney name (and pocketbook) netted their choice of talent for key supporting roles, such as Broadway tenor Henry Calvin as hapless Sgt. Garcia and vaudeville veteran Gene Sheldon as the hero's allegedly deaf and harmless manservant and sidekick Bernardo.
The key, of course, was the casting of the title character, and here most agree that the talent sweep yielded a coup in the selection of relative unknown Guy Williams. His suave good looks had landed him nothing but a series of modeling gigs and a few bit parts in films like I Was A Teenage Werewolf until Disney made him a star at age 33. Athletic enough to be convincing as the agile vigilante, Williams did most of the action scenes and all of the fencing by himself. His Don Diego de la Vega was a witty everyman who kept the secret identity safe, but moved away from the foppish dandy he had been portrayed as previously. Williams' interpretation of both facets of the character is considered definitive, much as Christopher Reeve's would embody Superman decades later.
Disney essentially brought a feature film ethic to TV, spending an average of $80,000 on each episode, a preposterous amount for the time, and it shows. In addition to the actors, the sets and costuming are first-rate, with an original score written specifically for the show. The stunt work is excellent, particularly the swordfights, which are generally outstanding (this is Zorro- they'd better be) and location shots are commonplace, though usually just in the hills outside LA. Bryce canyon, in particular, was eventually to stand in for practically every undeveloped area on earth and several in outer space in later shows, but here it is perfectly appropriate as the real surroundings of old California.
The show is very much of its time, very clean-cut and innocent, and often resembles a stage production. It goes without saying that although everyone carries a sword that they flourish at every opportunity, no one is ever stabbed, certinly not by Zorro, much as the Lone Ranger's superlative marksmanship was only ever used to shoot guns out of hands. Perhaps it also goes without saying that although almost every Hispanic character actor extant in Hollywood at the time made an appearance (Cesar Romero, pre-Joker, Rita Moreno, pre-West Side Story, and Ricardo Montalban trying not to obviously be far more macho than everyone else, et al.), none of the recurring characters were actually portrayed by a Latino, despite the show taking place in California, when it was still a part of Mexico. Williams' Italian heritage was apparently the maximum amount of swarthiness allowed, and the overall effect strikes the modern eye a bit strangely, similar to watching Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra in her caucasian Egypt.
The presentation is clean, with the audio and visuals well-preserved, though not digitally cleaned up, so occasional scratches and foreign bodies on the film flicker into view occasionally. The aspect ratio is putatively in the regular 4:3 of the time, but sometimes seems even boxier, a flat 1:1. The series was colorized for rebroadcast on the Disney channel in the early 90s, but this collection is in the original black and white. Each "Complete Season" tin includes six discs, necessary because at the time a season meant 39 weekly episodes. The first season is broken into three 13 episode story arcs as Zorro establishes himself and moves higher up the chain of conspiracy that caused his father to call him back from his studies in Spain to begin with. The second season is a bit more free form in the story telling, though there is still story progression, and tries to introduce a love interest who apparently interfered with the fantasies of the teen girls idolizing Williams, because she is gone by midseason.
The last disc in each set is extras, including a couple of hour-long episodes that Disney commissioned to keep the character au courant during a dispute with the network that ultimately ended the series after the second season despite its continued popularity (to say the least- the show pulled down nearly a 40 share in the Neilsens both years, huge even in the three-channel era and sheerest fantasy today). Also included are interviews with surviving cast and crew; and Williams' supremely lucky son Guy Jr., who was about seven when his dad was the most popular hero on TV, and so got to playtest almost all of the roughly 500 licensed properties, some of which he dusts off to show; and an amusing time capsule excerpt of the Mickey Mouse show where the Mouseketeers press uncle Walt for info on the hot new character and are rewarded with a guest appearance by Zorro.
Tangible extras are included with each set as mentioned above. 30,000 collections of each season were made, so each set includes a numbered certificate, a "table of contents" guide as to which disc holds each of the 39 episodes, a pin of Zorro on horseback or crossed swords behind the iconic mask, and a postcard-size glossy of Williams as Don Diego or Zorro for you to put in your diary and moon over. The whole shebang is packaged in an attractive tin case. Black, of course.
Overall, a charming trip down memory lane for nostalgia enthusiasts, and a strong effort of early TV in its own right.
ComicsOnline gives Zorro – The Complete First and Second Season 4 out of 5 Zees slashed in the commandante's dress jacket.
