The first Mummy, released in 1999 simply called The Mummy, is a remake of the 1930s version of the same name, by the same studio, and I've seen both (there's a '50s version with six sequels, all of the form of The Mummy's X, but as I've never seen those, they won't be discussed; also there is an Abbot and Costello version, which I'll get to as soon as I've seen it, possibly in a bonus round of what I hope shall fondly be remembered as Mummy week). The basic premise of the 1990s version is this: there's a priest in ancient Egypt who likes to get frisky with the pharaoh's mistress (a woman covered in body paint for no apparent reason, because everyone around her wears normal fabric, but I'll address that later), and once they get caught, the lovers kill the pharaoh and she kills herself in hopes that the priest will resurrect her. He makes the attempt, gets caught, gets punished by mummification and burial with flesh-eating bugs, and is left alone for three thousand years. Cut to the present-ish (c. 1925), where we meet our hero, heroine, her doofy brother, and an assortment of others all out looking for the city of the dead, not knowing that that's where the priest is buried. Hijinks ensue when they all try to get to the site and unearth it's treasure, resulting in the resurrection of the mummy, and that's where the real fun begins.
I don't tout this as a classic, not by any stretch of the imagination. My liking for it, and I do like it, is as good summer fun and a great way to kill a couple hours. There's no shortage of action or comedic relief, and thank God the horror is toned down (The Conjuring has forever changed me, sadly, and I didn't even finish it), but the structural elements of the story are somewhat lacking. To begin with, there's the mistress in the body paint. For one thing, how does this woman scratch an itch without the pharaoh suspecting her of adultery? For another, why is it she has to be in body paint in the first place, if not to serve the pharaoh's pleasure? Clearly it isn't because of the sweltering heat, as everyone else around her wears fabric. Is it a means to satisfy his jealousy? Doubtful, because from what we see in the first five minutes, it looks like it only made things worse for her. She can't hide her affairs as easily now, for starters. So my best guess is the body paint is a way of gratifying the pharaoh's lusts while still making her look decent for the public, which means she's basically his sex slave. Which makes me wonder why he would be so possessive in the first place if that's the case. She could easily be disposed of and replaced, after all, if she holds such a lowly position.
That entire situation is just entirely too sketchy for my tastes.
And I actually looked this up. The plagues which make their appearance in the movie, as the priest is now said to be able to call forth the Ten Biblical Plagues, are out of order. The order of the Bible is as follows:
- River of Blood
- Frogs
- Lice/gnats
- Flies
- Dead livestock
- Boils
- Hail
- Locusts
- Darkness
- Death of First-born sons
In the movie, for the plagues that do appear, the order is this:
- Locusts
- River of Blood
- Hail
- Darkness
- Flies
- Boils
I'm not quite sure if the priest is doing this on purpose to unsettle the protagonists and clue them in to the fact that this isn't at all like the story they're used to, to remove that option of wiping him out, or if that's a genuine error on the part of the story writers, but I'm sure some sectors of society will find this somewhat off-putting.
Other interesting notes are the death scene of the warden, which I received as played for comedy during my latest viewing (the guy knocks himself unconscious trying to escape from a flesh-eating bug inside of him, for the love of Christ!), why does the priest's face desiccate when he kisses the heroine when he is nearly fully formed (which just makes more work for him in the long run and really doesn't make sense considering everything)? And this Easter Egg: the waxwork behind the heroine's brother as they're standing around in the museum, talking to some of the Mysterious Desert People Who Know Everything About What's Going On, bears a striking resemblance to our very own Ahkmenrah. That's found at the minute fifteen mark most definitively, if you want to go through the movie to find it.
Out of the three Mummy films, this is the most cohesive and least insane. As a result, it's the one I recommend the most highly out of the three.
Next on "For the Love of Night at the Museum": The Mummy Returns, or, the point where I start wondering why.
Countdown: 287 Days to NATM 3
No comments:
Post a Comment