It’s
always been a bit of a mystery why the Mummy became a classic
monster. I can only put it down to being in the right place
(Universal) at the right time (1932), because the one unifying
factor of most Mummy films is their utter dreadfulness. The
numbingly awful films that Universal churned out with Lon Chaney
Jr in the 1940s should’ve put the character to bed forever,
but Hammer managed to breathe new life into the character in
1959, during a period when they could do no wrong. In1971, the
company also showed that you could do something interesting
with the whole Egyptian curse story by simply removing the shuffling,
bandaged vengeance crazed Mummy entirely, as they did in
Blood From the Mummy’s Tomb. But in the middle,
Hammer knocked out a couple of other Mummy movies that were
distinctly average.
The Mummy’s Shroud, made in 1967, is
at least better than Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb,
and is certainly a superior Mummy film – though there
isn’t much competition. As with all the Hammer films in
the series, it’s a stand-alone story with no connection
to the other movies, apart from the generic plot of tomb raiders
being punished for their transgressions.
In this case, they are led by Andre Morrell as Sir Basil Walden,
hired by rich businessman Stanley Preston (John Phillips) to
find the tomb of Kah-To-Bey (who we see being ousted from power
in a palace coup during a prequel). This he does, but before
long, the mummy of Prem, Kah-To-Bey’s servant, is on the
rampage, taking revenge against all who entered the tomb.
The
mummy in this film is a bit livelier than most, and his killings
are suitably brutal and well handled by director John Gilling,
who does his best to bring a degree of freshness to the story.
The film is more interesting as a character study than a horror
film, with Phillips providing the film’s real monster
– an arrogant, obnoxious coward who tries to take the
credit for the discovery and then desperately tries to escape
the curse. Elizabeth Sellars, as his wife Barbara, makes an
excellent foil for him, showing her contempt without saying
anything – her fixed smile and withering looks are enough.
Michael Ripper is also excellent as the sycophantic Longbarrow,
treated more like a slave than an employee by Preston. It’s
notable that Gilling consistently gave Ripper his most substantial
roles in Hammer films (see also The
Reptile).
On the downside, Maggie Kimberly may be one of the most wooden
actresses ever to appear in a Hammer film (and to add insult
to injury, doesn’t appear in any scene even vaguely resembling
the cheesecake publicity shots that accompanied the release
- and this review). She’s really, really bad.
Still, this is reasonably entertaining stuff, if hardly a Hammer
classic. Worried fans will be relieved to hear that this hasn’t
undergone any digital tinkering – in fact, there seems
little evidence of restoration at all, though the print is a
good one. Where the release does excel is in the extras, which
include a nifty featurette on the making of the film, a remembrance
of actor David Buck by his widow (and fellow Hammer star) Madeline
Smith and a bunch of trailers (including one for The
Devil Rides Out that contains those controversial
new digital effects).
It’s
always been a bit of a mystery why the Mummy became a classic
monster. I can only put it down to being in the right place
(Universal) at the right time (1932), because the one unifying
factor of most Mummy films is their utter dreadfulness. The
numbingly awful films that Universal churned out with Lon Chaney
Jr in the 1940s should’ve put the character to bed forever,
but Hammer managed to breathe new life into the character in
1959, during a period when they could do no wrong. In1971, the
company also showed that you could do something interesting
with the whole Egyptian curse story by simply removing the shuffling,
bandaged vengeance crazed Mummy entirely, as they did in
Blood From the Mummy’s Tomb. But in the middle,
Hammer knocked out a couple of other Mummy movies that were
distinctly average.
The
mummy in this film is a bit livelier than most, and his killings
are suitably brutal and well handled by director John Gilling,
who does his best to bring a degree of freshness to the story.
The film is more interesting as a character study than a horror
film, with Phillips providing the film’s real monster
– an arrogant, obnoxious coward who tries to take the
credit for the discovery and then desperately tries to escape
the curse. Elizabeth Sellars, as his wife Barbara, makes an
excellent foil for him, showing her contempt without saying
anything – her fixed smile and withering looks are enough.
Michael Ripper is also excellent as the sycophantic Longbarrow,
treated more like a slave than an employee by Preston. It’s
notable that Gilling consistently gave Ripper his most substantial
roles in Hammer films (see also 