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The Mummy Review by Elias Savada
This very 90s special effects extravaganza, an update of those legions of mummy films following Universal’s 1932 original and a few British imports that I recall scaring the bejeepers out of me as a child, is much less a mum-walks-among-us story than a blatant rip-off of the Indiana Jones films with a sarcophagus full of dazzling computer graphics. It’s not a bad copy-cat actually, as this action-adventure-romance didn’t skimp on production values guaranteed to leave your mouth dropped and at least keep your eyes glued to the screen as this glorified B-movie blasts along for two quick hours with barely enough time for a breath. It may not have the talent of a Harrison Ford as the archeologist/adventurer, but Brendan Fraser has a heady bravado, a gun-toting derring-do (the kind that makes any member of the NRA smile), and a brawny musculature that is bound to continue to find him roles in blockbusters like The Mummy and George of the Jungle, while allowing the actor some occasional time off for the award-winning likes of last year’s Gods and Monsters. Listen closely enough and Fraser sounds like John Wayne. Yes, the May box office champ waits in the wings just over a week ahead, but Universal has brought the dead back to life in a big, big way to keep anxious audiences on their seats until George Lucas and his merry band of aliens force their way into theaters and your wallets. As the Universal logo melts into the blazing desert sun, we learn a quick pre-Clinton
lesson in 1290 BC Egyptian political intrigue that brings the wrath of Pharaoh (Aharon
Ipale) and his gold-painted bodyguards down on his trusted high priest Imhotep (Arnold
Vosloo) for dallying with his leader’s mistress. Director Stephen Sommers keeps the action larger than life, the characters’ tongues safely in their cheeks, and the effects wide screen and mind-boggling, something he couldn’t do at all in 1998’s dreadful Deep Rising. For such a large budget ($80 million), you certainly see every penny up there, even if his script is laden with clichés. One episode that drew a roar of laughter came after Evelyn inadvertently revives the mummy by reading from the book of the dead only to be warned, too late, not to read it aloud. A member of the preview audience, not missing a beat, let out a loud "Oops!" that had us chuckling for a minutes.
All rip-roaring things considers, The Mummy is probably the nicest present you could give mama box office this weekend. Happy Mother’s Day! Contents | Features | Reviews
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This pyramidal no-no leaves a sour taste on the
cleric’s tongue (what’s left of it, that is), particularly since he is forced to
share his coffin with scores of hungry, flesh-eating scarabs. Ooh, icky. Left alone for
more than three millennia until the mid-1920s, he has plenty of time to contemplate what
plague-filled vengeance he will bestow on those who refuse to believe that some things are
left better dead. American soldier of fortune Rick O’Connell unearths the
sand-covered remains of the treasure-laden fortress of Hamunaptra, the "City of the
Dead," but along for the unveiling of this Pandora’s box are a motley crew of
disbeliever’s, bickering rivals, American cowboys, a slimy Cairo prison warden (Omid
Djalili) and Rick’s associates -- siblings Jonathan (Sliding Doors’ John
Hannah), a mischievously drunken simpleton, and the bookishly fetching Evelyn Carnavon
(Rachel Weisz), a clumsy librarian who later proves that the resurrected mummy forgot to
renew his library card and has a hefty fine to pay. Also on hand are Jonathan Hyde as an
Egyptologist modeled after the actor’s smarmy roles in Titanic and Anaconda,
and Kevin J. O’Connor as Beni, a dentally-challenged Arab guide who provides adequate
comic relief as Imhotep’s Renfieldesque sidekick recklessly searching for gold
treasures when he instead should be on the lookout for a good dentist. Taking a watchful
eye are the secretive, nomadic guardians of the city (another cinematic theft) who provide
swordplay and absurd dialogue ("The creature remains undiscovered.") in their
unsuccessful attempt to keep the intruders from their drifts.
Chills and thrills
abound in this loudly scored (by Jerry Goldsmith) production with heavy use of
choral/chant flourishes. Beautifully photographed on exotic locations in Morocco by Adrian
Biddle, with kudos to the production design team and the extensive visual effects wizards
that send fireballs crashing, water-turned-to-blood flowing, and boobies into their
assorted traps. The undead priest scurries about in essence-sucking episodes that restore
Imhotep to his former, bald-headed glory, although his juicy, visceral appearance as he
regenerates himself throughout the second half of the film may turn quite a few stomachs.
He’s a shifty mummy on an evil mission, particularly one weighty halitosis roar that
gives new meaning to the words "bad breath."