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Thursday, October 12, 2006

Robot vs. The Aztec Mummy

This movie and I have a disagreeable history. I'll explain exactly why later, but it includes elements of Keith's previous complaint about the movie Matango and the vicissitudes of the pre-DVD weird cinema (black) market. And it still pisses me off to think about, despite that now, thanks to the fact that for some reason the University of Florida library has a great collection of Spanish-language horror and B films, I have finally seen the entire movie that I'm about to review.

Anyway, following in the footsteps of some more ambitious horror ventures in Mexico, as well as some more successful B ventures in the 'States, Guillermo Calderon wrote and produced a series of three movies in quick succession which attempted to Mexicanize a popular Hollywood monster: the mummy. Egyptian mummies had become the province of Hollywood and Western cinema, so Calderon apparently looked to his national backyard in coming up with the Aztec mummy for whom the films are named: The Aztec Mummy (1957), Curse of the Aztec Mummy (1957), and Robot vs. the Aztec Mummy (1958).

For the record, the Aztecs didn't really have mummies. The only Mexican mummies I know of are those of Guanajuato, and as far as I know, that city and its mummies date from the colonial period at the earliest. The Inca had mummies, but Calderon probably wasn't from the Andes, and judging from the caliber of these films, he didn't have the cash to get there to do any filming either.

You might also notice that the dates of the films are pretty close together. It seems that Calderon filmed these more or less one right after another, though even if each of them were feature-length and consisted of nothing but original footage, he'd still have nothing on Cuneyt Arkin, who could sometimes star in two Kara Murat films in one year on top of starring in like six others.

But then, no man, mortal or otherwise, has much of anything on Cuneyt Arkin.

I don't think I've ever seen the first Aztec mummy film, and I only vaguely remember the second. However, when I first saw Curse of the Aztec Mummy and Robot vs..., it was back when bootleg vhs was more or less the only way I knew of to see anything even remotely like these films, and Video Screams packed both Curse and Robot onto one vhs for me for the price of a single movie. It was good to save vhs space and money (especially money). But it was bad because it turned out that Calderon was one cheap sumbitch.

Robot vs. The Aztec Mummy is but 65 minutes long. That's short enough as it is; what that number fails to tell you is that at least 45 minutes out of those are of footage from the previous two films, rationalized under the aegis of the "narrated flashback to bring other, and largely superfluous, characters up to speed on the backstory" device. It's a device rarely used, and I think that for the most part, that's because it sucks. It sucks even more if you happen to have watched one of those two films immediately previous to watching Robot, because now it's like you're watching it all over again, except this time it's more boring.

The plot basically revolves around the struggles of the good Dr. Almada and his wife Flor, as well as his assistant/friend Pinacate, whose secret identity is as the crimefighting Angel, which sometimes does and sometimes doesn't come into play as having any value to the plot. They are up against the evil Dr. Krupp, who's some kind of underworld kingpin and mad scientist trying to take over... I dunno, probably the world. Right now he's after the "Aztec treasure," whatever the hell that is, and to get it he needs a special Aztec breastplate and bracelet combination which have the map somehow encrypted onto them in hieroglyphs.

I might also mention that although the Aztecs had a form of writing of sorts, it was nowhere near as sophisticated as the hieroglyphs Calderon seems to have had in mind, but maybe that's beside the point.

The complication for Krupp? Through hypnosis, it is discovered that Flor Almada was the Aztec maiden Xochitl in a past life whose sworn duty it was to remain a virgin until time came for her to be sacrificed. (The Aztecs usually didn't sacrifice their own people, and they usually didn't seem to care about the virginity of their sacrificial victims, but then, by the end of the 15th century they were doing a hell of a lot of different sacrifices, so I dunno, maybe that does fall in line with something they were doing in some small temple at one time.) Xochitl fell in love with the warrior Popoca and attempted to escape the city, and so the priests sacrificed her anyway and buried Popoca alive so that he would become the undead guardian of the breastplate for all time.

For what it's worth, Xochitl is pronounced, as far as I know, "Zo-chee." (The "-tl" could make that more complicated, but unless you're a native speaker of archaic Nahuatl, maybe it's best to let it go silent after all.) Xochitl means "flower" in the Aztec language Nahuatl, which is a mildly amusing parallel to the name "Flor," which is "flower" in Spanish. Popoca, on the other hand, is the verb "to smoke"... either Calderón was thinking of the god of magic and darkness and I forget what else Tezcatlipoca (smoking mirror), or maybe the volcano Popocatepetl (smoking mountain), or... I dunno what.

The Flor/Xochitl parallel is probably better planned than anything else in this movie. After forty minutes of narration, with occasional invigorating insertions of new footage featuring some older men sitting around in a living room and reflecting on the flashbacks, we finally get to the only part that we acquired the film to see: the robot who will eventually grapple with the eponymous mummy.

It seems that Krupp assembled a bunch of metal and wiring together with a human brain (probably not the first time this was done in film, though it does predate Astro-Zombies) to create "the human robot" which, once mass-produced, will somehow be implemented in some kind of world domination scheme. Krupp heralds this robot as pure genius and "beautiful," and frankly, I don't think I can disagree. Slightly less ridiculous than the Turkish version of E.T. (for those who've seen Badi), and slightly less streamlined than your average cardboard box, this robot comes equipped with blinking lights and a human head behind glass for your viewing pleasure. And frankly, if the human robot doesn't satisfy you, then I can conceive of nothing that would.

The robot lies supine on a table until Krupp slowly moves it to a more vertical position... slowly, slowly... The robot gradually becomes aware of its verticality and begins to stand upon its own two feet... slowly... Suddenly, the Aztec mummy shambles out onto the floor and lurches with reckless abandon toward the robot!... The robot languidly raises its claw hands, the mummy stretches out its own arms in that "I'm dead and going to get you!" pose... any paint that you may have applied to anything has probably dried by now, but the excitement is nevertheless building because this is why I watch movies to begin with, just to see moments like this--

...and that was when the vhs cut off because apparently the film was five minutes too long to fit both Aztec mummy films on there. Forty minutes of watching the other movie again, then the agonizing anticipation of seeing the combatants finally enter the ring and race to meet each other like two warring slime molds... and then nothing but darkness.

Five or six years later with little bitterness lost, I got to see the rest of the film... which basically ends exactly the way the title suggests, and then more or less lays to rest the whole Aztec Mummy theme. Of course, Calderon resurrected that theme again in 1964 for the Aztec Mummy's encore in Wrestling Women vs. the Aztec Mummy, but that's another story, and one which I haven't really explored.

Strangely, co-director Manuel San Fernando went on to direct two Santo films, followed immediately by three Santa films, which is too odd a bit of random trivia for me not to pass on.

Word has it that the butchered U.S. import print of the first film in the series is the only surviving copy, and the original has been lost. I hope that's just an internet rumor, despite that I'm not a tremendous fan of this series.

Or am I? In final assessment, I guess there are some positive things which I can conclude with about this film.

First of all, Calderon had a stroke of brilliance which he then adulterated and completely lost when he conceded to marketing demands--take out the flashback footage, and some of the other boring stuff where anyone who isn't robotic or undead is walking around, and you've got one hell of a film. Some films only need to be about ten minutes long--hell, two minutes, really--and Calderon said, "I'm going to shoot that film, damnit!" But then, no doubt, friends and associates talked him out of it, convincing him that he needed to pad the film out so that audiences would feel like it was a feature-length movie. Or at least, that's how I like to envision it, with Guillermo Calderon at the vanguard of B movie innovation--genius, even--before lesser minds pulled him back into inferior conventions.

Second, there's another parallelism between the Aztec mummy--an automaton created by Aztec priests, using human sacrifice, to guard a sacred relic--and the Human Robot--an automaton created by Dr. Krupp, using human sacrifice, to uncover that relic. Is this some statement on the part of Calderon, using Mary Shelley as a guide in a Mesoamerican context to not only decry soulless scientific progress but compare its brutalities to those of past civilizations? Is modern technical "magic" no less dark than the religious/spiritual magic of bygone eras?

Probably not, but I'm sure anyone who cares to can probably go to town on that and get it published in some kind of film journal. Have at it, folks, if for some reason you care to. Save for occasional references here and there, I think I'm done with these films... except for that magic minute-long sequence that I waited for years to see.

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posted by Ryan at | 1 Comments


Thursday, September 16, 2004

Blood from the Mummy's Tomb

Release Year: 1971
Country: England
Starring: Andrew Keir, Valerie Leon, James Villiers, Hugh Burden, George Coulouris, Mark Edwards, Rosalie Crutchley, Aubrey Morris, David Markham, Joan Young.
Writer: Christopher Wicking
Director: Seth Holt and Michael Carreras
Cinematographer: Arthur Grant
Music: Tristram Cary
Producer: Howard Brandy
Availability: Available on DVD from Amazon
.

Someone must have gotten the memo and said, "Jesus, another mummy movie?" After three Hammer mummy movies, which in turn had followed some nine thousand or so Universal mummy movies featuring the vengeful bag o' rags known as Kharsis, the general consensus was that the world pretty much had all the movies it needed in which some expedition disturbs a tomb, gets yelled at by a guy in a fez, and then gets stalked by the mummy looking to avenge the desecration of the tomb. Even in as few as three films, Hammer Studio seemed to be flogging a dead...I don't know...Pharaoh or something.

Though their first film, The Mummy starring Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee was spectacular, subsequent Hammer mummy movies bore essentially the same plot, and I do mean "bore." Curse of the Mummy's Tomb, the second of Hammer's mummy films, remains missing on DVD as of this writing, and thus can't be fit into the Netflix queue. However, my intention is to eventually (before year's end, anyway) do a round up of all the Hammer horror series films that are missing from Netflix so that I can plug all the holes and have a complete look. This means that just in time for Christmas, or maybe Halloween, you can look for us to bridge the gaps by reviewing Brides of Dracula, Dracula Prince of Darkness, Scars of Dracula, The Mummy's Curse, and The Evil of Frankenstein. And I guess Dracula AD 1972 if I can manage to find a copy. Hammer's third foray into mummy fun, The Mummy's Shroud, we've already discussed.

Which brings us to 1971, and Hammer is in a bad state. There had been a rocky string of films, and it seemed obvious that the studio was losing its way, or had lost its way and was already flailing blindly in the darkness. Despite the dire straights in which Hammer found itself, they managed in the early 1970s to shoot a number of surprisingly good films that saw the company trying to break new ground in much the same way they had decades previous. Two of the three "Karnstein" vampire films -- Vampire Lovers and Twins of Evil are quite good films, even if their middle piece, Lust for a Vampire is somewhere more on the rotten end of things. Vampire Circus was highly enjoyable and unique. Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell wasn't the best in the series by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a serviceable film that would have been greatly improved if only the monster hadn't been so silly looking. And then there was Blood from the Mummy's Tomb.

For their forth Egyptian adventure, someone at Hammer realized that no one wanted to see the same film a fourth time, especially since each subsequent mummy movie had declined considerably in quality. So certain changes were to be made. First and most obvious there was no mummy, at least not the shambling cloth-wrapped mummy one would expect. Second, the script, based on a story by Bram Stoker, did contain a curse, the violation of a tomb, and the deaths of all who entered said tomb, but there was no vengeance for the desecration. In fact, the expedition, it turns, out, was guided there purposely by the entombed princess within. And rather than being set in the usual 1860-1910 range of dates that encompass most of Hammer's gothic horrors, Blood from the Mummy's Tomb sports a modern setting. This was disastrous for the Dracula films, but it worked well for the mummy since there was no real effort to beat people over the head with funky music and bell-bottoms and guys using crazy hepcat lingo. It just meant that someone drove a car and wore a turtleneck sweater. Perhaps the most striking difference between Blood from the Mummy's Tomb and the previous two films was that it was good. Quite good, in fact. Not The Mummy good, but still plenty enjoyable, and a major high water mark for the company's often dismal output during their final decade.

That Blood from the Mummy's Tomb is such a unique and enjoyable film is all the more impressive given the fact that it became known as one of those "cursed" films. It's too bad they'd already used up the "curse" title for the second film. The trouble started with Peter Cushing, who in an attempt to return some degree of prestige to the flagging mummy movies had been cast as one of the archaeologists who finds himself pitted against an ancient Egyptian princess' desire to be reincarnated using the body of his own daughter. With only a day or so of filming under his belt, however, Cushing's wife grew extremely ill and he dropped out of the production to be by her side. She died shortly thereafter, and Cushing was in no mood to be making mummy movies about dead women trying to return from the tomb.

Hammer was more than willing to let their main man grieve, and so he was replaced by Andrew Keir, a fine and distinguished actor who had worked with the company on such productions as Dracula, Prince of Darkness and Viking Women, and was probably best known for playing the title character in Quatermass and the Pit. He'd also worked alongside Cushing in one of the Dr. Who movies, Dalek's Invasion Earth: 2150 AD. So even though losing Cushing was a blow, Keir was a top notch replacement who, if not possessed of as much recognition as Cushing, was still a familiar and well-respected face.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the last tragedy to befall the film. Director Seth Holt, an imaginative director with a unique style, died during filming. He'd been in a state of increasingly poor health attributed largely to his weight and drinking, and it finally caught up with him. He was replaced by Michael Carreras, the son of Hammer founder James Carreras. Michael's directorial role call is not what one might call impressive. Impressively bad, perhaps, although entertaining in spots. But suffice it to say he wasn't exactly the studio's star director unless you're idea of Hammer at their best was Lost Continent and Prehistoric Women. Nepotisim? Perhaps, but I guess they figured with Curse of the Mummy's Tomb under his belt, they might as well call him in and let him direct the bits of Blood from the Mummy's Tomb that remained unfinished upon Holt's death. To Carreras' credit, his work blends seamlessly with Holt's, and there is no obvious point where the two directors' styles diverge.

The story revolves around the ancient Egyptian princess Tara (the indescribably lovely Valerie Leon), who is sort of put to death in a half-assed fashion for being just being kind of all-around wicked. The method of execution seems to be to put some BBQ sauce in her nose, then cut off her hand, the reasoning being that if her body remains incomplete, then she can never rise from the tomb to inflict her evilness on society again. You'd think that rather than just chopping off a hand and throwing it to the jackals, you'd also do the head, maybe a leg. You know, make a thorough job of things.

As it is, not only do they only chop off her hand, that same hand manages to kill a jackal and then go on to summon a sandstorm and rip out the throats of all the murderous priests. This movie will feature a lot of gory blood-gushing neck wounds, by the way. In terms of gore, it's quite extreme for Hammer, which I guess is an odd statement that deserves some quick clarification. In the 1950s and early 1960s Hammer was notorious for pushing the limits of what constituted acceptable onscreen gore. However, the revolution they began eventually passed them by, and by the time of Blood from the Mummy's Tomb, Hammer films seemed quaint and somewhat reserved compared to what was being pulled in other films. Blood from the Mummy's Tomb isn't a gorefest, but the gushing neck wounds are pretty extreme, and the finale of the film features a really juicy stabbing. Blood from the Mummy's Tomb was also one of the first Hammer films (Vampire Lovers, I believe, was the first) to feature nudity even though the earlier films had often been criticized for being too sexual. The nudity here is very quick, a flash of breast and rear, and apparently a body double stood in for Valerie Leon.

Visions of the execution plague young Margaret (also Valerie Leon) thousands of years later. Her father was part of an expedition that unearthed the bizarre tomb of Tara, who stuns the archaeologist by being perfectly preserved and looking no older than the day she was killed. Things get weirder when they discover her corpse and severed hand still bleed, but they're not able to get too freaked out since she also seems to be working some mojo from beyond the grave that puts the archaeologists under her spell. Each of them takes one of her sacred items, and when the items are united on her birthday, her spirit will return to earth and possess Margaret.

Unfortunately, Margaret is already falling under the spell of the ghostly princess - who, need I even mention, looks exactly like Margaret. See, her father gave her this big, ugly, unsightly red ring that allows Tara to dominate the mind of Margaret. The initial indication that Margaret is being possessed comes when she enthuses as to the beauty of the ring - a piece of jewelry so unspeakably ugly that not even Sammy Davis Jr. would wear it. Other characters exalt the aesthetic virtues of the ring as well, until eventually you get the idea that the script is trying desperately to make us believe in the beauty of the ring despite the obvious evidence to the contrary on screen, like how movies about brilliant writers will try to convince you of the writer's brilliance by having everyone state the writer is brilliant, even though excerpts from their writing that appear in the film suggest that the writer is, in fact, of a skill level far below that required even for an author of books whose covers are adorned by illustrations of Fabio dressed as a pirate.

Although most of the members of the expedition resist Tara's demands, that just results in Valerie summoning up ghastly forces to inflict more neck wounds. Don't know what it is with this movie and neck wounds. Every death scene seems to end in a neck wound with blood a-pumping and the person clutching their throat and making the bug-eyed, "I have a neck wound!" dying face.

I don't know what would have been riskier - to make another mummy movie with another mummy seeking more vengeance, or to make a mummy movie in which there is no mummy, and the story is more about possession and ghosts and psychological horror. Whatever the case, Hammer took the more original risk, and it paid off. Blood from the Mummy's Tomb is a slower paced film, as most of the mummy movies were, but because it relied more on mood and psychological tension, the movie never feels as draggy as the previous two films. And if nothing else, watching Valerie Leon stalk around in tight-fitting skimpy nightgowns is more fun than watching more cloth-wrapped lumberers lumbering about.

What makes the film work, aside from it being different than any of the mummy movies that came before it, is the quality of the cast. Chris Wicking's script certainly helps, but it's the commitment of the cast that makes it work. Of course, that's the case for just about all the Hammer films, and more than a few hammy scripts were saved by the fact that the cast commits to it entirely and makes you believe. Blood from the Mummy's Tomb isn't a hammy script, but the fact that the cast is into it makes it even better. It keeps the pace feeling fast during the slower dialogue scenes. Keir was the biggest name in it. Valerie Leon had small parts in a lot of those Carry On films the British seemed to love so much, but this was one of her first starring roles. The rest of the cast is comprised of character actor stalwarts and a few attempts at injecting some new blood into Hammer. Everyone works quite well.

Hammer also handles the modern setting well - certainly better, as I said in the beginning, than in their other attempt to update a series property, Dracula AD 1972. The present-day setting never intrudes on the gothic-style horror. The art direction for the Egyptian scenes is better here than it was in previous films as well, with things looking more authentic and less like brand new props.

I would gamble that the leisurely pace of the film will turn off a lot of viewers, especially those expecting thrill-a-minute mummy fun. But then, I reckon those people have never been big Hammer horror fans anyway. Blood from the Mummy's Tomb isn't a scary film. It doesn't instill in the viewer a sense of dread the way Hammer films at their best do. Instead, it achieves a very dreamy/nightmarish atmosphere, disturbing but never shocking save for the parts where blood spurts out of something. It has a very continental feel to it, if you dig my meaning. And if you don't -- it lacks the clinical precision of Hammer and other British horror films and instead sports that more ephemeral Italian feel. The offbeat atmosphere fortells the even more continental approach of Hammer's final horror film, To the Devil...A Daughter, with the chief difference between this film and that one is that Blood from the Mummy's Tomb is odd and enjoyable while To the Devil...A Daughter is odd and wretched.

It's a shame that Hammer didn't take more risks with unique material during the 1970s instead of going the route they went, which was to film the same things over and over but with lower budget, lesser actors, and more boobs. I mean, the more boobs part was fine, but it still shows that rather than being a trend-setter, Hammer had become a trend follower desperate to attract attention to themselves in whatever way possible. Granted the entire British film industry was in a bit of a moribund state at the time. But rocky though the 70s may have been for Hammer, Blood from the Mummy's Tomb is a stand-out that, while perhaps not keeping pace with the company at its best, certainly makes for solid b-movie material.

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posted by Keith at | 0 Comments


Sunday, August 15, 2004

Mummy's Shroud

1967, Great Britain. Starring André Morell, John Phillips, David Buck, Elizabeth Sellars, Maggie Kimberly, Michael Ripper, Tim Barrett, Richard Warner, Roger Delgado, Catherine Lacey, Dickie Owen, Toolsie Persaud, Eddie Powell. Directed by John Gilling. Buy it from Amazon.

Ho hum, the mummy again. That wouldn't normally be my reaction, as I'm rather a fan of mummies and the havoc they wreak upon the living, but this entry into the Hammer compendium of vengeful Egyptian crypt guardians manages to do very little beyond eliciting a yawn. This was their third mummy movie. The second, Curse of the Mummy's Tomb remains as yet unavailable on DVD, though I do believe there is an RL Stine "Goosebumps" story with the same title.

The Mummy's Shroud's problems are several, and not the least of them is the fact that it fulfills what seems to be the mummy's curse demanding that all mummy movies be more or less exactly like all other mummy movies. There is practically nothing at all on display in this film that is new or fresh. The plot is a rehash of the tried and true and terribly over-used mummy movie plot involving an expedition that disturbs a mummy's tomb only to have some mad Arab resurrect the mummy and send it out to kill those who desecrated the temple. Honestly, the things you can do with a mummy are rather limited, so the spark in the story must come from telling it in a unique fashion, or injecting some new element into the proceedings to keep them, at the very least, fresher than the cloth-swathed beast delivering terror on the screen.

But there will be none of that here. The Mummy's Shroud hits the requisite points but nothing innovative with them. A far cry it is from Hammer's successful and invigorating original film, which managed to bring a new twist to Universal's classic Karloff film. Hammer should have learned a thing or two from Universal though, who followed up Karloff's masterpiece with a series of increasingly lame and lackluster sequels that offered nothing new to the formula or mythology. Instead, Hammer's cloth-wrapped feet tread down the same precarious trail.


The Mummy's Shroud, as I said, takes the story from various other mummy movies and puts it out there one more time. We begin with a painfully long prologue, narrated I believe by Peter Cushing - a fact that will only make you all the more aware of the fact that this movie is sadly bereft of Peter and could have really used him. Half the prologue takes place as the camera pans lazily over various "ancient" paintings, which is the first obvious clue that this is going to be a film rather on the cheap side of things. When we switch to actual action for the second half of the prologue, it's plagued by the same troubles I thought plagued the first film's Egyptian sets, only more so. Nothing looks the least bit convincing. Everything looks fake, lightweight, and far too clean. The difference between The Mummy's Shroud and The Mummy is that the 1959 film managed to make up for whatever short-comings manifested themselves in the Egyptian sets by boasting a tight story and great acting from the team of Cushing and Lee - and Lee without even speaking! The Mummy's Shroud doesn't have enough going for it in the story or acting department to distract from the high-school play cheapness of some of the sets.

The thing about the prologue is that not only is it long, it's pretty much totally unnecessary. You could wrap it all up, so to speak, in a few quick sentences of exposition, or Peter Cushing could have simply come on and said, "Listen up, folks. It's the same old thing, really." Eventually, we get to the present or to the 1920s anyway, and once again a team of British archaeologists s raiding the tomb of a long-dead Egyptian king. Even the knife-wielding mad Arab can't dissuade them from carting out the jerky-like mummy of a young boy-king. The Arab this time around is pretty foul. In the 1959 film, there was at least an attempt to give the Arab class and sophistication and intelligence, not to mention a compelling argument against the desecration of tombs by foreign archaeologists who were frequently condescending to "the natives," treating their tombs as classrooms in ways they would never treat the tombs of whites. This time around, however, the mad Arab is all spittle and bulging eyes. And for your money, you get another mad Arab in the form of the cackling fortune-telling crone.

But at least there's something memorable about those two. The greater portion of the cast, that is to say, the British portion of the cast is comprised largely of characters who exist solely so they can be killed by the mummy. Mario Bava's 1971 thriller Twitch of the Death Nerve is generally tagged as the first slasher film, but if you break slashers down to their basic components, you could say with some degree of security that, if they didn't start with this particular mummy movie, they did start in some mummy movie, and The Mummy's Shroud as about as typical a slasher film as you can get, except that instead of half naked teenagers getting killed, it's fully clothed British academics. But still, you have the unstoppable killing machine. You have the old weirdo spouting portents of doom. You have a cast of largely interchangeable and disposable characters who only exist to be killed, and you have said killings growing ever more ludicrous.


Our nominal heroes are Paul (David Buck) and Claire (Maggie Kimberly), but it doesn't take much for them to be heroes in a film populated by spittle-spurting crazed Arabs and immoral, greedy millionaires who sweat profusely. The film's best scene is the finale, in which this particular mummy does provide the film with a little originality by forsaking the usual method of mummy attack (sort of swatting people with your forearms and choking them or throwing them out a window) and just picks up an ax. You know, there are plenty of images in this world that should chill you, but one thing I sure as hell never want to see is a mummy coming after me with a big ax. I don't really even want to see a mummy without an ax coming after me. People tend to scoff at mummies as monsters because they are frequently plodding. Well, first of all, they must have missed Christopher Lee as the mummy leaping through windows and hauling undead ass across the misty British countryside. Second, the thing about mummies is that they never stop coming after you. Once you're attracted the ire of the cloth-wrapped avenger, he's always going to be looking for you. And sometimes, he'll have an ax.

I guess to highlight the positive, another thing this movie does a little differently is that, at least for once, the mummy isn't swayed by the appearance of a woman who looks just like some long lost love of his.


And speaking of mummies, let's speak of the mummy. Technically, we have two mummies in the story. One remains in active and looks like mummies you might see on TV. He has no wrappings and is just a shriveled preserved corpse. This would be the body of the boy-king. Why he just got thrown in the sand with a shroud over him while his servant got to get wrapped up and properly stored I didn't quite understand. The second mummy, the servant, is the one who does the killing. Although the face was modeled after an actual mummy on display in England, the mummy itself is rather silly looking. It's bandages look more like a big jersey, and the face is too packed with "the crust of the ancients" to afford the creature any of the range displayed by Christopher Lee during his turn as the ancient Egyptian avenger. Though the idea may have been to make the mummy less of a "human" character and more of an unstoppable supernatural force, what it actually did was just make the mummy more of a dry character (sorry), and thus a lot less interesting. The one scene where we do see the mummy's eyes, we're treated to a rather unconvincing animatronic model. There is a reason people remember Christopher Lee as the mummy but not Eddie Powell.

But again, a crummy mummy (again, sorry) could have been compensated for by a good script. With that absent as well, The Mummy's Shroud just collapses in on itself much like its mummy in the final scene. This movie does have a couple other decent scenes. The mummy's attack on a photographer of no importance to the story is exciting, if totally irrelevant. And his assault on the beleaguered assistant to the sweating millionaire asshole is probably the film's only emotionally engaging scene as it seems so unfair that the abused toady remains abused and then just gets offed by the mummy. Unfortunately, it's not enough to string together into a good movie, and while The Mummy's Shroud isn't a total loss, it's really the sort of film only for people like me, who are Hammer and/or mummy completists.

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Friday, August 06, 2004

The Mummy

Release Year: 1959
Country: England
Starring: Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Yvonne Furneaux, Eddie Byrne, Felix Aylmer, Raymond Huntley, George Pastell, Michael Ripper.
Writer: Jimmy Sangster
Director: Terence Fisher
Cinematographer: Jack Asher
Music: Franz Reizenstein
Producer: Michael Carreras
Alternate Title: Terror of the Mummy
Availability: Buy it from Amazon.


Ahh, Sangster and Fisher. If you want my opinion, and you must or else you'd go read a much better website that this, that screenwriter-director team is as integral to the success of the Hammer horror films as the Cushing-Lee acting team. When you make a list of the best films Hammer produced, the Fisher-Sangster duo comes up quite frequently. The whole quartet is at it again with this, Hammer's third reimagining of a classic Universal Pictures horror icon. By now, there was no real gamble involved in the Hammer formula. Curse of Frankenstein and Horror of Dracula had proven the effort, and Hammer's only challenge now lie in maintaining the high standards set by those two films. With two Universal legends left, those being the mummy and the Wolfman, Hammer decided to go all old Egypt and bring the bandaged avenger of desecrated tombs into the Technicolor world of Hammer horror.

The first two gothic horror films established a successful order to things, and Hammer saw no reason to tinker with it. Fisher directs, Sangster writes, Cushing takes the lead as a scientist, and Christopher Lee must again command the monster role without speaking a word, or at least very many words. And once again, it all works out wonderfully, though as much as I like this film, I like it less than the Frankenstein and Dracula films that preceded it. Actually, no. Scratch that. I like it less than Curse of Frankenstein and about the same as Horror of Dracula. The script is as smart as ever, and Cushing owns the film once again, but some of the ancient Egyptian sets leave a little to be desired. But we'll get to all that in due time.


The story is pretty much the same as the story in every mummy movie that has ever been made. Archaeologists disturb the tomb of a Egyptian princess, which awakens her mummy guardian (and invariably, her former doomed lover and high priest) to seek revenge on the desecraters while a guy in a fez makes ominous predictions about the fate of those who defile the tombs of the ancient ones. Yeah, that old chestnut. With these movies, it's not the newness of the story but the freshness with which you present it, and Hammer's approach is as fresh as you can get with a guy who's been dead and stuck in the wall for a thousand years.

The movie takes a while to get going, but once it does get going, there's no stopping it. Sangster's dialogue is again top notch, and Cushing and crew manage to deliver it in a way that makes even the most ludicrous monster movie statements seem serious and believable. As would be the case with all of their early gothic horror films, it would have been easy to allow them to sink into the level of camp or winking self-parody. And as with the other films, Hammer refuses to indulge in what modern filmmakers can't seem to get enough of. The Mummy remains serious and seriously delivered, which makes it believable and convincing no matter how outlandish the action on screen becomes. Everything is delivered with such faith and conviction that it pulls you in, which is why these films work even when there is a lot of talking involved. In fact, the film's best scene is an exchange between Cushing's Dr. Banning and George Pastell as Mehemet, the controller of the mummy, in which they debate the merits of digging up ancient tombs, with Mehemet trying to make an impassioned argument that it's nothing more than grave robbing while Cushing attempts to egg him on in hopes that he'll get frustrated and reveal something sinister about the mummy that's been killing everyone involved with the old expedition.

When the action does come, it comes fast and bloody, as Hammer has established it would. Christopher Lee's mummy may be a little stiff in the joints, but he's no lumbering slowpoke. He can move at a fair clip, smash through windows, and kick down doors. Once again, Lee is wonderful at acting in a part where not only does he not get to speak, but he is also covered up in pasty-face make-up and bandages. He does get to utter some lines in a flashback to ancient times scene, but they're little more than incantations delivered in typical ancient incantation tone. His primary tools as the mummy are his eyes, which he uses wonderfully, and his height, which allows him to tower menacingly over everyone else in the cast.

Peter Cushing once again shoulders the burden of carrying the film and does so as admirably as he had in the previous two Hammer horror outings. This movie has a lot of talking in it, but Cushing is the kind of actor that can make you want to listen as he goes on about ancient curses and burial rites. It's a pretty physical role for him as well, featuring lots of mummy fighting and being flung about. Although Christopher Lee has emerged over time as the number one icon of these horror films, watching them makes you realize that Cushing, the eternal 45-year-old (he was actually 45 when made this one), was the real foundation upon which the Hammer house was built.


The supporting cast of character actors perform as they always did and generally always would. Yvonne Furneuax is great as Isobel, Doctor Banning's wife and, inevitably, the spitting image of the priestess Christopher Lee's mummy was in love with so long ago. How is it that every mummy manages to be awakened from its eternal slumber by someone who just happens to know a woman who is the spitting image of the mummy's old flame? I guess those past life regressionists are correct. I always thought it was odd that in their previous lives, everyone was an Egyptian princess or some other lofty figure instead of being just some serf or the village idiot. But given the number of times mummies come back from the dead to extract horrible revenge on tomb desecraters only to run into a double of their ancient Egyptian love, I guess there are a lot of latter-day reincarnations of princesses walking around. It's a lucky thing, too, otherwise we'd have nothing with which to distract the mummies.

As the requisite "mad Arab," George Powell acquits himself well. It's a tricky role, especially by modern standards where cultural stereotyping is a more sensitive subject. However, you can't help but sympathize with Mehemet, who sees British archaeology as nothing more than pompous, condescending white men stealing the bodies and art of another culture for their own amusement. Cushing's Banning argues that it is through such acts that we learn of the past and fill in the gaps, but Mehemet remains convincing in his argument that it is more about prestige and low opinions of "the natives" than it is about filling in the gaps of history. Sympathetic though he is, when it comes time to solve the problem, he has no qualms about sending his mummy out to choke people and ruin their expensive bay windows.

On a final cast note, I was almost convinced by the voice of Eddie Byrne, who plays Inspector "I deal in facts" Mulroony that it was a young Fred "Herman Munster" Gwynn. He even looks a little like Gwynn, but the voice similarities are uncanny.


Sets are, for the most part, typically top notch, though the Egyptian settings are pretty unconvincing. The tomb walls look light as cardboard, even when characters are pretending they weigh a lot, and everything is spotless clean and looks like it just came from the prop department. When recreating Victorian England, Hammer was unmatched, but they're out of their element and/or budgetary constraints with their Egyptian sets. Still, they're at least pretty, and the rest of the movie is good enough to make it not matter all that much. As is the case with both Horror of Dracula and Curse of Frankenstein, one can't help but compare it to the old Universal film. I'm a big fan of Karloff's The Mummy, and I'm a big fan of this one. I think they're different movies for different times, and I don't really see any point in trying to figure out which one is "better." Just enjoy the fact that they're both available to you on DVD. Hammer's mummy film is as brash, daring, and energetic as their previous two efforts, and as with them, it's a real treat.

The studio's fate was sealed after the release of this film and it was all horror, all the time from there on out. Not a bad thing, though I'd be interested in seeing some of the studio's pre-Quatermass war films. As with Dracula and Frankenstein, several sequels followed in the footsteps of The Mummy, though none were as good as some of the Frankenstein or Dracula sequels. Hammer would also go one to try their hand at the final Universal monster, resulting in the superb Curse of the Werewolf, which because it didn't star Christopher Lee or Peter Cushing, gets less attention than the other three films, though it is no less a picture even though Oliver Reed's Wolfman is spectacularly ugly. Mummy sequels included Mummy's Shroud and Blood from the Mummy's Tomb, but none featured the Fisher/Sangster/Lee/Cushing crew again.

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