cinema history class: love brides of the blood mummy (1973)

The session: I Want My Mummy!
We revisit our bandaged buddies

Note: IU could not find a legitimate trailer. This is a fan trailer.
As always, there may be spoilers here. And the trailer may be NSFW and/or NSFL.

Week 4: Love Brides of the Blood Mummy (1973)
Directed by Alejandro Marti

My Level of Prior Knowledge:
Hadn't heard of it. 

Plot Synopsis:
A lovestruck mummy rises from the dead, convinced he's finally found his long-lost bride in modern-day Turkey. Unfortunately, his courtship style involves murder, kidnapping, and a complete disregard for personal boundaries.

Reaction and Other Folderol:
Love Brides of the Blood Mummy has a title that promises mummies, brides, blood, and presumably some combination thereof. What it actually delivers is something much closer to a vampire movie. The title character isn't really a mummy at all. He's essentially a fully intact ancient Egyptian who happens to have been dead for a few thousand years. Replace the Egyptian headdress and garb with a cape and you'd have a fairly standard vampire plot.

The story concerns a resurrected ancient Egyptian nobleman who becomes obsessed with a modern woman he believes is the reincarnation of his long-dead bride. This leads to a great deal of stalking, biting, kidnapping, and sexual assault. Unfortunately, the repeated cycle of rapes and blood-drinking becomes tiresome long before the film reaches its conclusion. There are only so many times you can watch the same sequence play out before it starts feeling less like storytelling and more like a contractual obligation.

Speaking of repetition, the filmmakers become oddly enamored of iris-outs during the final stretch. By the end I felt as though I was watching a silent movie that had wandered into the wrong century.

Not everything was unsuccessful. The severed arm crawling around on its own is a genuinely effective horror element and probably the film's most memorable visual. The musical score also deserves some credit. Whatever the movie's shortcomings, the music does a surprisingly good job of evoking both the time period and the setting.

One of the movie's stranger choices is its reliance on narration to explain plot points that probably should have been dramatized. Rather than trusting the audience to piece things together, the film repeatedly stops to tell us what's happening. Equally puzzling is the presence of an Egyptologist who appears to possess important knowledge about the situation, yet whose existence and involvement are never satisfactorily explained.

At one point Ethan remarked that the whole thing felt like purgatory. He wasn't wrong. The film settles into a strange repetitive rhythm where the same events seem to happen over and over, trapping both the characters and the audience in an endless cycle of pursuit, assault, and exposition.

Still, it has a certain dreamlike weirdness, a memorable crawling arm, and enough odd decisions to keep a bad-movie crowd engaged.

And, of course, Joe gave it a 10.

cinema history class: the curse of the mummy's tomb (1964)

The session: I Want My Mummy!
We revisit our bandaged buddies

As always, there may be spoilers here. And the trailer may be NSFW and/or NSFL.

Week 3: The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb (1964)
Directed by Michael Carreras

My Level of Prior Knowledge:
Hadn't heard of it. 

Plot Synopsis:
After an archaeological expedition uncovers the tomb of an ancient Egyptian prince, the mummy is brought to England as part of a lucrative exhibition. When a series of murders follows, it becomes clear that the curse of the tomb has crossed the Mediterranean—and the mummy has come to reclaim its vengeance.

Reaction and Other Folderol:
In Hammer's second foray into mummy territory, an archaeological expedition uncovers the tomb of an ancient Egyptian prince. The mummy is transported to England for a publicity-driven exhibition. Predictably, this proves to be a poor decision for everyone involved.

I wanted to like this one more than I did. There are certainly some good moments scattered throughout. The film opens with a memorable severed-hand sequence and neatly bookends things with another hand removal at the end. There are flashes of atmosphere, and the story moves along well enough.

But ultimately, the movie feels content to do exactly what is required and nothing more. The plot hits the expected beats, the mummy stalks his victims, people die, and the story reaches its conclusion. There's nothing particularly wrong with any of it, but there isn't much that elevates it above the ordinary either. It's competent, professional, and generally watchable—just not especially memorable.

One thing that did strike me was Fred Clark's character who comes across as a sort of 1900s Geraldo Rivera. He turns an archaeological discovery into a publicity spectacle, eagerly promoting the exhibit and cashing in on public curiosity. In retrospect, it's hard not to think of Geraldo's infamous televised opening of Al Capone's vault—lots of hype, lots of promotion, and ultimately rather less payoff than promised.

In the end, The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb isn't a bad film. It simply never quite becomes a good one.

As for the ratings, Joe gave it a 10. Because of course he did.

cinema history class: the mummy (1959)

The session: I Want My Mummy!
We revisit our bandaged buddies

As always, there may be spoilers here. And the trailer may be NSFW and/or NSFL.

Week 2: The Mummy (1959)
Directed by Terence Fisher

My Level of Prior Knowledge:
I'd known that there were a bunch of movies titled "The Mummy." 

Plot Synopsis:
An archaeological expedition uncovers the tomb of an ancient Egyptian princess. After the tomb is desecrated, a resurrected mummy, Kharis, is sent to England by a fanatical guardian to take revenge on those responsible. As the killings mount, the surviving archaeologists discover that the mummy's relentless quest is tied to a tragic love story from thousands of years earlier.

Reaction and Other Folderol:
I went into this one with modest expectations. Egyptian-themed horror and historical curses have never really been my thing. But this was better than expected.

One thing that immediately stood out was Christopher Lee's performance. The man spends almost the entire movie wrapped head to toe in bandages and makeup, yet somehow manages to convey emotion, determination, anger, and even sadness almost entirely through his eyes. It's an impressive piece of acting when you consider how little of his face is actually visible. Lee's Kharis isn't just a shambling monster; there's a sense of tragedy underneath all those wrappings.

I also thoroughly enjoyed the verbal sparring between Peter Cushing's John Banning and the villainous Mehemet Bey. Every scene between them crackles with tension. Cushing, as always, brings intelligence and stubborn determination to his role, while George Pastell's Bey is cultured, polite, and quietly menacing. Their exchanges are often more entertaining than the action scenes.

One aspect of the story left me scratching my head. Did they ever actually explain why Banning's wife looks exactly like Princess Ananka? The resemblance is central to the plot, but I don't recall the film ever providing a clear explanation. Are we supposed to assume reincarnation? Some mystical connection across the centuries? Admittedly, that's a common enough trope in mummy movies that perhaps I shouldn't hold it against them, but it still felt like the screenplay skipped over a detail that might have deserved a little more attention.

The version we watched also reminded me how much censorship could affect these older horror films. Several bits of gore that were present in later restorations were absent here. We hear about the severed tongue but don't actually see it. Likewise, the climactic destruction of Kharis is much less graphic than in the restored versions, with much of the footage of him being riddled with bullets removed. The movie still works perfectly well, but it's unfortunate that audiences for years saw a trimmed-down version.

The title itself is a little misleading. This isn't really the traditional "Mummy awakens and stalks modern victims" story that most people think of when they hear The Mummy. The real driving force of the plot is Mehemet Bey, the loyal guardian carrying out a mission of vengeance. In some ways, Guardian of the Mummy's Tomb might actually be a more accurate title. Kharis is certainly important, but he's essentially the weapon wielded by someone else. And, of course, there's the tragic love story which adds an interesting element.

Beyond all that, the film benefits enormously from Hammer's production values. The rich color cinematography, atmospheric sets, and strong performances elevate material that could easily have become routine monster fare. It's easy to see why so many fans consider this one of Hammer's best horror films.

Overall, this was much better than I expected. Not one of my favorite horror films, and not enough giant radioactive insects or vicious murderous gangs for my tastes, but an entertaining and surprisingly thoughtful monster movie with strong performances from both Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing.

As for Joe, nothing would stop him from giving it a 10. Rumor has it he was preparing to award it an 12 before remembering that ancient Egyptian mathematics had not yet invented that number (and Bobbo wouldn't let him anyway).

cinema history class: pharaoh's curse (1957)

The session: I Want My Mummy!
We revisit our bandaged buddies

As always, there may be spoilers here. And the trailer may be NSFW and/or NSFL.

Week 1: Pharaoh's Curse (1957)
Directed by Lee Sholem

My Level of Prior Knowledge:
I'd never heard of it.

Plot Synopsis:
An archaeological expedition in Egypt uncovers the tomb of an ancient high priest, only to unleash a supernatural curse that causes members of the party to die mysteriously one by one. As panic spreads, the survivors realize the mummy may be possessing the living in order to continue its revenge from beyond the grave.

Reaction and Other Folderol:
Keith started this ad hoc Egyptian archaeology festival with Pharaoh’s Curse (1957). The setup is pure drive-in B-movie comfort food: archaeologists crack open an ancient tomb, ignore every possible warning sign, and then act surprised when people start dying under mysterious circumstances. Somewhere, an undead Egyptian priest is very disappointed in modern workplace safety standards.

What makes Pharaoh’s Curse interesting (to the limited extent that it is) is that it’s not really a “big spectacle” mummy movie in the Universal style. The mummy itself barely appears for long stretches, and the movie leans more heavily on atmosphere, suspicious behavior, and a general sense that everyone on the expedition is making terrible decisions. The desert locations actually look pretty good for a low-budget film, and the whole thing has that dusty late-50s indie horror vibe where every scene feels like it was shot three minutes before the crew lost access to the set.

The cast mostly consists of earnest scientists, nervous assistants, and people who seem contractually obligated to wander off alone at night. Mark Dana plays the expedition leader with the exact level of confidence required for a man whose plan is basically “let’s keep digging while the body count rises.” Meanwhile, the locals repeatedly warn everyone that desecrating tombs is a bad idea, which naturally guarantees that the Americans and Europeans continue desecrating tombs at full speed.

One odd thing about the movie is that the “curse” itself feels slightly improvised from scene to scene. Sometimes it’s a mummy attack movie, sometimes it’s a possession movie, sometimes it feels like a murder mystery where the murderer just happens to be several thousand years old. The film never seems overly concerned with explaining the mechanics, which honestly may have been the correct creative decision.

The pacing drifts a bit in the middle, but that’s part of the charm with these 1950s programmers. You settle into the rhythm: ominous music, torch-lit corridors, suspicious glances, another doomed side character, repeat. And at just over 70 minutes, it has the good manners not to overstay its welcome.

Joe wasn’t there, but let’s be honest: if he had been, he probably would have given it a 10.

howard hamlin and hannibal hamlin: the detail everyone missed

 

One of the things that separated Better Call Saul from ordinary television was the frightening level of detail embedded into the writing. Nothing in that universe was accidental. Colors mattered. Background objects mattered. Throwaway lines mattered. The writers built entire emotional arcs around whether a coffee mug was facing left or right. Which is why I no longer believe it was a coincidence that the doomed attorney Howard Hamlin shares a surname with Hannibal Hamlin, Abraham Lincoln’s first vice president.

At first glance, this sounds ridiculous. But the more you examine it, the harder it becomes to dismiss.

Hannibal Hamlin famously served as vice president during Lincoln’s first term, only to be quietly replaced before the second inauguration. Historians have long noted that Hamlin was competent, respectable, and ultimately expendable — a polished institutional figure pushed aside as political realities shifted around him. Howard Hamlin occupies almost the exact same structural role within Better Call Saul. He is the embodiment of establishment legitimacy: immaculate suits, careful manners, elite credentials, and a sprawling, meticulously designed law office complex whose polished corporate aesthetic projects permanence and authority. And yet, despite all that prestige, he becomes collateral damage in a transformation he barely comprehends.

That part matters.

Because the creators of Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul consistently portrayed institutions as grand facades already beginning to crack internally. HHM’s immaculate office complex is not merely a workplace. It is a monument to the illusion of stability — carefully landscaped, tastefully modern, expensive without being flashy, radiating the confidence of an institution that assumes it will exist forever. Howard walks its serene hallways the same way late-1850s political figures walked through Washington believing the old systems would somehow hold together. Both Hamlins are men of decorum trapped in eras that have already moved beyond decorum.

And then there’s the visual coding.

The showrunners used color symbolism with almost pathological precision. Howard’s signature blues evoke calm authority, professionalism, and institutional continuity. He practically glows with “respectable establishment energy.” Compare that with Jimmy McGill’s carnival palette and Saul Goodman’s eventual aesthetic descent into Constitution-themed chaos. Howard visually represents the old order — the same way Hannibal Hamlin represented an older, more restrained phase of Republican politics before the country slid fully into existential conflict.

The architecture of HHM is itself part of the symbolism. Rather than a predatory Manhattan skyscraper, the firm occupies a sprawling, serene corporate compound — the kind of place designed to reassure clients that serious adults remain firmly in control of civilization. Which, in the Better Call Saul universe, is usually a sign that catastrophe is about fifteen minutes away.

Even the hidden instability fits the theory. Beneath HHM’s polished exterior sits Chuck McGill’s unraveling mental state, simmering resentments, succession anxieties, financial pressure, and reputational fragility. In other words, it’s basically a metaphorical pre-Civil War Union with valet parking.

The key clue, however, may be Howard’s fate itself.

The tragedy of Howard Hamlin is that he thinks he is participating in a conventional professional rivalry when he is actually standing inside a completely different genre. He believes he’s in a legal drama about office politics. In reality, he wandered into a moral catastrophe populated by cartel psychopaths and human wrecking balls. Hannibal Hamlin faced a strangely similar historical predicament. He entered national politics assuming traditional democratic norms still governed the country, only to find himself adjacent to the collapse of the old political order and the onset of the Civil War.

Coincidence? Maybe.

But this is the same creative team that embedded symbolic meaning into shoelaces, ice cream cones, and parking validation stickers.

You really think they spent years constructing one of television’s most obsessively detailed fictional universes and then accidentally named a major tragic figure “Hamlin”?