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Karl
Freund's The Mummy is part of the triad of great horror
classics of the early 1930's. Along with Frankenstein and
Dracula, The Mummy terrified early generations of
movie-goers, and parts of it are still terrifying today.
A measure of the film's importance comes from its
originality. Screenwriters of this time were not pestered
with avoiding so many clichés; so when The Mummy begins
at the site of a spooky archaeological dig in Egypt,
viewers saw an early treatment of discoveries that had
been in the news for decades. It had to be dramatic and
scary to watch the mummified guardian Imhotep (Boris
Karloff) commence to stir, break his arms free of their
bonds, and send into madness one of the archaeologists
who had invaded his tomb.
Years pass, and the plot alights on the life of another
member of the ill-fated expedition, Sir Joseph Whemple
(Arthur Byron). His friend Dr. Muller is concerned that a
young woman, Helen Grosvenor (Zita Johann), is in danger
of being controlled by a tall, thin, mysterious Egyptian,
who gives the name Ardeth Bey (Karloff). While Helen is
in a disturbed state, Frank Whemple is charged with
calming her. Quickly the two fall in love. Heightening
the tension, Bey begins to pursue Helen, as he is
convinced her body holds the reincarnated soul of the
Egyptian princess Anckesen-Amon. In an agitated fit of
telepathic rage, Bey kills Dr. Muller. Meanwhile, the
Whemples are on to Bey, realizing he is Imhotep. What's
more horrific is their realization that Bey is invincible
- he cannot be defeated without the intervention of the
ancient Egyptian gods, the same gods that Imhotep
offended so many years before.
The ending of The Mummy is also the forerunner of
countless showdowns between mortals and immortals. For
its time the special effects are stunning, their power
vitiated only by an abrupt cut to the ending credits.
Boris Karloff gets top billing, and rightly so. His body
is excellent in its attenuation, his square shoulders
giving his character a striking ascetic quality. Somehow
we almost believe this man is a living mummy, his face
crinkled by the ages. Certainly one of the creepiest
shots in the film is a close-up used many times: the
fez-wearing Imhotep/Bey glaring wide-eyed to a point just
above the camera, in what seems like a still photograph.
No music accompanies this shot; it is the character's
intense concentration -- and the viewer's knowledge of
his evil intentions - that lend the image its terrifying
power. Further, Karloff's subtle and masterful body
language conveys a manner that takes its time in building
menace. The actor's demeanor was doubtless as singular at
the time as it is nearly 70 years later: as we listen to
his distinguished British lisp, we shiver in mute
understanding.
An important issue is raised in the film - the idea that
it is wrong for Egyptian artifacts to leave the country
of their origin and appear in, say, an English museum. At
the time of the film's setting, the laws have been
changed and all artifacts remain in the Cairo museum. The
filmmakers are to be praised for nodding to this correct
method of showcasing history.
Much of the film is slow, particularly when Karloff is
offscreen. When his Bey is luring Helen to his side, or
disabling her guardians with his lethal mind powers, the
tension makes the film very watchable. But the dialogue
sags when the men are talking, or even when Frank is
romancing Helen. One scene, in which Bey explains to the
semi-hypnotized Helen the reason for his cursed state, is
riveting. A flashback beginning in a pool of fog, the
scene shows Imhotep, in love with the dead princess,
trying to revive her body. Caught in his unholy deed,
Imhotep is wrapped alive, and placed as a guard to the
royal tomb. Many modern viewers would deem the flashback
tacky, but it is a risk in narration for which the
director should be commended. And the period costumes
worn by the ancient Egyptians do lend a corny realism. We
feel Imhotep's pain, especially the spasms in the eyes of
the expressive Mr. Karloff as the bandages are wrapped
about his head.
The sequels to this film are easier to watch. Though they
are more Americanized, with the swaddled creature
traipsing around, dragging his dusty leg, one arm still
trapped in its rotting sling, sometimes an unconscious
beauty in his arm, these follow-up films helped to set
the patterns used in many "B" horror movies to
come. But the simply titled The Mummy was the first, and
no matter how many times its themes are remade and
re-invoked, its ground-breaking status is beyond
question.
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