ZORRO'S BLACK WHIP (1944)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *sociological*


To re-iterate the same point made in practically every other reference to the film, there is no "Zorro" in the house. Republic had no rights to use the character, so they just stuck the name onto the title of their serial and presumably hoped no one would bother to sue.

There's not much to say about this bare-bones adventure, except that it's one of the rare serials in which a heroine is presented as a formidable adventure-character. This was actress Linda Stirling's second serial, following THE TIGER WOMAN the same year. TIGER WOMAN is far from one of the best of the chapterplays, but it shows far more care in its stuntwork and writing than BLACK WHIP, which I suspect was rushed into production.

Possibly the initial script was produced with the idea that the heroine would inherit the Zorro role from a male perceptor. The first chapter, taking place in Idaho in its pre-statehood era, posits that there are lawless elements seeking to foil any attempts to bring the territory under U.S. aegis, so that it can remain a haven for lawlessness. A masked, whip-wielding hero, the Black Whip, has arisen to oppose the owlhoots. But he's fatally shot, and Barbara Meredith (Stirling) comes across the wounded hero, just in time to learn that it's her own brother who has assumed the role of masked avenger. Barbara, who for a girl of the 1880s is unusually adept at fighting and shooting, takes up the role. As in TIGER WOMAN and related serials, the heroine's male companion has to handle the majority of the fight-scenes, and here it's George J. Lewis, playing Vic Gordon, a local cowhand on the side of justice. However, there are still a fair number of scenes in which the main heroine mixes things up with male outlaws, none of whom notice that she's not quite as broad-shouldered as the old Whip. The serial-makers at least have Stirling doubled by a female substitute during the action-scenes, so that the viewers still know that she's female. Why the outlaws don't notice is anyone's guess.

Despite the repetitive nature of the perils and the colorless villains, once in a while the script does convey some of the characters' uncertainty over the fate of their home state, which gives the serial a little sociological heft. But the gimmick of Barbara posing as a man wears a little thin, even if her buddy Vic Gordon takes her place toward the end to protect her dual identity. In the end, even if the outlaws never know what Barbara did, WHIP does strike a blow for gender equity.