By the late 1950s, English company Hammer Films was a creative and commercial heavyweight and their new bread and butter was horror. Frankenstein’s Curse (’57) and Horror of Dracula (’58) were huge hits, and Universal encouraged Hammer to rummage through its kitchen for more lucrative edibles. The Mummy (’59) was the result – a colorful and frightening take on the myth with the formidable third duo of Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing.
This version is not a direct remake of the 1932 Boris Karloff vehicle, but rather takes elements from a few Universal sequels (Mother’s hand, The Mummy’s Tomb, Mom’s Zaddy) and integrates them into a very simple but effective story. So: It’s 1895, and all the hip archaeologists of the time—Stephen Banning (Felix Aylmer), his son John (Peter Cushing), and John’s uncle Joe (Raymond Huntley)—are gathered in the Egyptian desert (or in a British movie backlot; tomay-to, tomah-to). As John lies ill with a broken leg, Stephen and Joe locate the tomb of the high priestess Ananka (Yvonne Furneaux), who once ruled under the god Karnak. An attempt to prevent them from entering by local Egyptians Méhémet Bey (George Pastell), who warns them of the dangers of desecration, fails and they find Ananka’s sarcophagus as well as a secret scroll for resurrection. When Joe returns to camp to tell John, a scream is heard from the grave and running back, JoWe find Stephen slumped on the sarcophagus catatonic and perhaps in need of rest.
Three years later, we’re back in England at a posh mental institution, and Stephen shakes off his catatonia and asks for John. He tells her that reading the Scroll of Life brought Ananka’s mummified guardian, Kharis (Lee), back to life to take revenge on the desecrated tomb.
One by one, the muddy and bandaged Kharis take revenge; when he sees that John’s wife, Isobel (Furneaux again) is the spitting image of Ananka, he sets his sights on winning back his queen… will one of the batches of London films be safe from the wrath of The Mummy?
It feels like we’ve always had mummy movies throughout horror history; When I was little, in the 70s, I read and saw black and white photos of Boris Karloff, his makeup a frightening pavement of dark lines and ruts beneath a pristine black fez. We always had mummies tripping over children’s dishes like Scooby-Doowith undone bandages showing complete disregard for said monster.
It’s always been like this, the mummy relegated to the basement with various supernatural creatures from the lagoons and swamps mixing with lab rejects from all walks of life. The lower caste of the horror world, not forgotten, but not as beloved as your sewn-together vampires and big men.
I think the fault comes from the concept: Who wants to beat up a burnt person?? Not me, and I hope you feel the same way. Winding and slow lurching are the two main characteristics of The Mummy, and until Universal’s hugely successful reboot starring Brendan Fraser as something closer to Indiana Jones, mummy appearances were sporadic.
This iteration of The Mummy is my favorite for several reasons: First, a course correction for the mummy’s appearance. After a discharge, Kharis becomes a dirty, mud-covered avenger, Lee’s wild, expressive eyes conveying all his concentrated rage. His stature is also modified; no more feet dragging as Kharis now walks upright and leads with his shoulders, giving him a much-needed intensity – an urgency – that previous mummies lacked. Kharis moves with a steely determination that is not far removed from our modern-day slasher anti-heroes.
Second, Jack Asher’s superb cinematography, Jimmy Sangster’s (mostly) stripped-down screenplay, and Terence Fisher’s assured direction are all in place, as are the first two features with their stars, Lee and Cushing. It’s the most lush of the three, the primary colors popping, especially in the flashback scenes of Ananka’s death and Kharis’s attempt to resurrect her, leading to her retaliatory curse. (Yeah, I don’t know how some of these rules are applied myself.) This is the only weak point of Sangster’s script and the film; it crawls when it becomes a history lesson, albeit an interesting one. Fisher makes the most of the limited kills, building suspense through Kharis’ quick, single-minded hatred and the urgency Cushing’s John Banning brings to finding him.
Third, the dance of its stars Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, twisting once again in the cinematic sky for our pleasure and surely theirs. They have little interaction here (difficult to write conversations when one of your characters has no language, I’ve been told) but when they do, it’s reminiscent of this charge they have on screen, which is unique to them.
What is this alchemy, anyway? It’s a combination of Cushing’s determination, with an ever-simmering anger, and most notably here, Lee’s blinding, furious wave of retaliation, that gives the film a jolt regardless of their shared screen time.
But let’s talk about the monsters and Lee for a second. His three Hammer/Universal monsters (this one and the previous two) are wonderfully unique in their thinking and appearance, and his mama, though silent, feels more deadly thanks to the majesty of Lee’s movements than any who have bandaged before. The striking contrast between the fiery white of Kharis’s eyes and the dark impurity of her dress helps to give The Mummy its juice. It’s definitely enough to call him from the basement.
The Mummy is available on Blu-ray from Warner Bros.
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