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Review (Contains Spoilers)

Having rung the box-office bell in 1957 with their seminal classic Curse Of Frankenstein and then chimed it a second time in 1958 with their equally revered interpretation of Dracula (aka - The Horror Of Dracula) British genre specialists Hammer had seemingly discovered a goldmine in their glorious Technicolor retellings of the classic Universal horrors. Eager to capitalise on their box office momentum Hammer quickly delivered a third successive classic with The Mummy (1959). Based upon the successful Universal efforts The Mummy’s Hand (1940) and The Mummy’s Tomb and starring Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, The Mummy was yet another international success story.

Now when it came to the tried and tested practice of finding a commercially lucrative character or theme then mining it for every last penny its worth, Hammer were without peer. Having achieved international success with Christopher Lee’ iconic Count Dracula, Peter Cushing’s evil Dr Frankenstein and the titular resurrected Egyptian mummy, Hammer would still be knocking out formulaic features starring these initially memorable villains well over a decade later clearly having great faith in the old adage that what has worked before will inevitably work time and time again. To be frank the Hammer approach was not so much to flog a dead horse but to flog it, skin it, eat it and then continue flogging the deceased creatures bones for another five years after that! However, whereas Hammer’s Dracula and Frankenstein series’ would both sustain seven and six follow ups respectively, their foray into Egyptian mummy territory would peter out by the end of the decade following forgettable sequels in the form of both Michael Carreras’s 1964 effort The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb (the film under analysis here) and John Gilling’s respectable The Mummy’s Shroud which drew a line under the Hammer mummy saga’s in 1967.

The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb predictably opens in Egypt’s fabled Valley Of The Kings where an archaeological excavation led by Sir Giles Dalrymple (Gwillam) and Professor Eugene Dubois (Rebel) uncovers the tomb of Egyptian prince Ra-Antef. Their discovery is however tainted with both tragedy and horror when Dubois meets his doom in the desert at the hands of superstitious, murderous natives.

With Dubois dead the expeditions American financier and showman extraordinaire Alexander King (Clark) unveils plans to take the mummy of Ra-Antef and the artefacts of his tomb on a money spinning international road show. Sir Giles is aghast at these plans and washes his hands of their find leaving King and his mummy to carry on to London along with Sir Giles’ brave understudy John Bray (Howard), Dubois’ beautiful daughter Annette (Roland) and disapproving Egyptian native Hashmi Bey (Pastell) who foretells a horrifying death for all those that have defiled the tomb of Ra-Antef.

Back in London John Bray finds his blooming romance with Annette intruded upon by mysterious and wealthy stranger Adam Beauchamp (Morgan) who not only wants Annette for himself but also seems to have a vested interest in the artefacts recovered from the tomb of Ra-Antef. Meanwhile Alexander King intends to make London the first leg on his international mummy road show but plans are rudely scrapped when the mummy disappears from its sarcophagus. Horror sets in when it transpires that the old prophecies are in actual fact true and the vengeful mummy of Ra-Antef has risen from the grave to stalk the streets of London in a bid to track down and kill all those that have disturbed his eternal rest.

To be brutally and truthfully frank The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb is the formula Hammer Horror film done to the point of complete tedium. Despite showing early pulp style promise with a (for the time) rather brutal hand amputation The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb swiftly degenerates into tedious, drawn out hokum as archaeologists bicker over what to do with their mummy whilst white actors in brown face paint crudely impersonating Egyptian natives mutter breathlessly about ancient curses and prophecies of doom. Of course no one really expects anything more than a formula mummy pot-boiler out of a film such as this so I can forgive The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb for being a repetition of every mummy film that had ever gone before. The problem however is that neither Michael Carreras’ static direction nor the efforts of the cast have anything like the sense of urgency or indeed the quality to make one feel compelled to sit through this particular rendition of the old sand, curses and dirty bandage formula.

When one looks back at the directors synonymous with the Hammer legacy it has to be said that Terence Fisher, Freddie Francis an even at a stretch Roy Ward Baker and John Gilling were artists. Despite working within restrictive preset horror formulas the aforementioned filmmakers were adept craftsmen capable of fashioning atmosphere, suspense and a sense of drama out of the Hammer textbook of gothic clichés. By contrast to Fisher, Francis, Gilling, et all Carreras is not an artist but a workman of limited directorial capability who was better suited to his more familiar role as a producer. Indeed The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb flounders completely as Carreras’ static direction sees the narrative plodding along like a faithful old carthorse for almost fifty mummy free minutes. To be truthful Carreras failure for the most part to enrich The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb with any pace or zeal coupled with his seeming incapability to muster the Hammer patented period gothic flavour just serves to demonstrate how tired the formula Hammer hokum could be without a Terence Fisher or a Freddie Francis to breathe some life into the proceedings.

Carreras’ cause is not helped at all either by weak and miscast central performances. For starters Ronald Howard – who was closer to fifty than forty at the time – looks and indeed is far too old for the role of “intrepid young Egyptologist” John Bray. It may have been possible to forgive this miscasting if Howard was an engaging leading man but to be perfectly honest he demonstrates all the charm and charisma of a brick. In that respect he is well matched by leading lady Jeanne Roland who is agreeable enough one the eye but a woefully poor, expressionless actress. The trio of crap leads is rounded out by Terence Morgan who is blander than stale digestive biscuits as suavely sinister stranger Adam Beauchamp.

Fortunately the supporting cast are much better and it is through their efforts that the sinking ship barely manages to keep itself afloat. A brown face paint sporting George Pastell (a carryover from Hammer’s original 1959 version of The Mummy) is impressively slimy as shifty Egyptian Hashmi Bey and veteran Jack Gwillim threatens to bring an air of authenticity to the film via his convincing portrayal of eminent Egyptologist Sir Giles. For his troubles the script rewards him by transforming Sir Giles into a bumbling, bitter old drunkard and shunting him to the sidelines until the time comes to serve him up as mummy fodder. In fairness to Gwillim he does however make the best of the hand he is dealt.

The real bright spot for The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb comes in the form of Californian character actor Fred Clark who contributes a scene stealing and highly amusing – if shamelessly over the top – turn as gleefully brash American showman Alexander King. It does however come to something when the highlight of the films first half is an almost throwaway aside from King concerning the naming of Turkish Delight. Of course typically crooked Hammer logic dictates that King is the first to fall victim to the resurrected Ra-Antef. Sad as it is to say there is something very Hammer about killing off your films only truly engaging protagonist at the first opportunity that presents itself.

By the time the mummy id finally unleashed at the fifty minute mark all viewer interest has been more or less lost and with less than half an hour left to play with it is impossible for the film to really go anywhere new. In fairness to Carreras he does seem to finally pull his finger out at this point and steps up the pace as Ra-Antef tears through the numerous desecrators of his tomb in short order. The actual mummy itself (played by stuntman Dickie Owen) is not a patch on Christopher Lee’s memorably ferocious bandaged fiend from Hammer’s 1959 original, but is nonetheless serviceably daunting and his reign of terror – whilst brief – is admirably staged. I especially enjoyed the commendably nasty head crushing demise of Pastell’s conniving Hashmi Bey which brings a pleasing hint of sadism to the proceedings. Unfortunately much of Carreras’ good work is undone by the concluding revelation that the mummy of Ra-Antef is actually just a pawn in the hands of the real villain of the peace. This in turn ties in to a late plot twist concerning the uncovering of one central protagonists true identity which is in turn both novel but at the same time completely improbable and impossible to swallow. On a similarly disappointing note with the final moments in the London sewers Carreras finally achieves the evocative air of Victorian period British gothic that had been so sorely lacking throughout but instead of going something with it The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb simply ends there abruptly in a manner befitting of the singular lack of imagination or vitality that has regrettably characterised the film throughout.

Despite the thorough pulverising I have given it here if truth be known The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb is actually fairly inoffensive in its own hokey sort of a way. When it comes to the mummy film it is foolish to expect anything other than the standard formula hokum, but even judged purely as hokum The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb is desperately uninspired stuff with a horribly tepid first fifty minutes characterised by painfully slow pacing, a lack of incident and for the most part poor acting from its leads. After that in all fairness The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb in its last twenty five minutes transforms into a reasonably engaging romp through the usual clichés of the mummy subgenre. Hammer’s mummy series would conclude with 1967’s The Mummy’s Shroud which while every bit as formulaic in terms of its narrative was markedly better than The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb thanks to the work of a director (John Gilling) who was able to inject some spirit into the proceedings. Make no mistake The Curse Of The Mummy’s Tomb has its moments – in its final act at least – but otherwise this is a completely unremarkable, inessential and regularly tedious rendition of a familiar yarn that has been done better numerous times before and since even by Hammer themselves.

Also Try… The Mummy (1959, Terence Fisher) / The Mummy’s Shroud / The Mummy (1932, Karl Freund) / The Mummy’s Hand / The Mummy’s Tomb / The Mummy’s Ghost / The Mummy’s Curse / Dawn Of The Mummy.

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Piczo