The Mummy (1932)
Directed by Karl Freund

Film Review

The third of Universal's great monster icons, the Mummy, made his first appearance in this atmospheric chiller, magnificently portrayed by Boris Karloff in what many regard as one of his finest performances. Karloff had only recently made a name for himself as another iconic Gothic horror monster, Frankenstein's monster in James Whale's legendary 1931 film, Frankenstein.  Again, the actor was subjected to the make-up wizardry of Universal's Jack Pierce and convincingly made to resemble someone who has lived way beyond the usual human lifespan.  The brooding intensity that Karloff brings to this film is what makes it an enduring classic of the fantasy horror genre.

The film marks the directing debut of Karl Freund, who had previously made a name for himself as a cinematographer, both in Germany and in Hollywood.  In the 1920s, he collaborated with some of the greatest German filmmakers of the day - F.W. Murnau, Fritz Lang and Paul Wegener - on such expressionistic masterpieces as Der Golem (1920), Der Letzte Mann (1924) and Metropolis (1927).  Prior to making The Mummy, Freund had worked on two other Universal horror films, Dracula (1931) and Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932).  Freund's distinctive cinematography was defined by fluid camera movements and the use of suggestive camera angles, as well as harsh lighting, to add atmosphere and build tension.

The screenplay was written by John L. Balderston, who had previously adapted Hamilton Deane's stage production of Dracula for an American audience, the play that was to be the basis for Universal's 1931 Dracula film.  Prior to being a screenwriter, Balderston had worked as a journalist and had reported the discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb by Howard Carter in 1922.  The widespread interest in Egyptology that endured throughout the 1920s inspired Universal executive Carl Laemmle Jr. to make a film relating to the subject.  Balderston responded by incorporating an Egyptian theme into a horror storyline that had been submitted by another writer, Nina Wilox Putnam, about a 3000 year-old mystic named Cagliostro.   At about this time, Balderston was also working on a screen adaptation of H. Rider Haggard's novel She, and so elements of this story, as well as his previous Dracula adaptation, found their way into his screenplay for The Mummy.

One of the most surprising aspects of this film is that the monster (i.e. the Egyptian mummy) only appears briefly at the start of the film, and then only in a few fleeting shots (the horror by implication technique favoured by the German expressionist filmmakers).  In the rest of the film, Karloff plays the character as a recognisable human being, with makeup applied only to his face and hands.  He isn't so much a monster as a Svengali-like figure (reminiscent of Bela Lugosi's Dracula), a sinister yet sympathetic villain who is driven by an uncontrollable need to be reunited with his erstwhile sweetheart.  All this is a far cry from the subsequent Mummy films, in which the Egyptian revenant is reduced to a shambling monster bent on mindless revenge.

One of the strengths of The Mummy is its focus and narrative economy, making it one of the most compact and coherent of Universal's classic horror films.  Of the various sequences that were cut was one that showed us several incarnations of Anck-es-en-Amon at various points in history.  Interestingly, an actor who appeared only in one of these cut scenes was included (erroneously) in the credits.

The film's one weak point is that the performances of the supporting cast fail to match up to that of the lead actor, Boris Karloff.   The female lead was played by Zita Johann, a Hungarian who become a prominent stage actress in America in the 1920s and '30s.  Johann made no secret of the fact that she loathed making films and had a particularly bad working relationship with Freund.  Her exotic beauty and unusual persona make her a good casting choice for the role she plays, although many today would judge her performance to be cold and theatrical.  Few of the other actors manage to distinguish themselves, and the performances are generally stilted and lacking in emotion - typical of early sound cinema.

Despite its artistic strengths, The Mummy was generally ill-received by the critics of the day and was far less successful than Universal's previous horror films.  It was not until 1940 that the studio would unearth the bandages for a second excursion into Egyptian occult, with Tom Tyler playing Mr A&E (Kharis, to give him his proper name) in The Mummy's Hand (1940), now the more familiar monster icon.  Lon Chaney Jr. took over the role for the next three Mummy outings, The Mummy's Tomb (1942), The Mummy's Ghost (1944) and The Mummy's Curse (1944).  Universal would give the Mummy a half-decent burial in the spoof Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy (1955).

Just to show that you can't keep a good monster down, the Mummy would return in a series of four films made by the British company Hammer Film Productions, beginning with The Mummy (1959) and ending with Blood from the Mummy's Tomb (1971).  More recently, the over-bandaged fiend would make an unexpected come back in Stephen Sommers' effects-saturated The Mummy (1999).  None of these well-intended revivals can hope to compare with Universal's 1932 original which, with its authentic-looking sets and stylish cinematography, convincingly evokes ancient Egyptian mysticism, whilst telling a compelling and poignant love story that transcends the barriers of time and space.  Even Mummies have a heart (although, sadly, it is often removed and put in a jar with all the other internal organs).

Film Synopsis

In 1921, a team of British archaeologists led by Joseph Whemple unearth an ancient Egyptian tomb.  Inside, they find a burial casket containing a well-preserved mummified corpse.  The fact that the body has not had its viscera removed suggests that the unfortunate occupant of the tomb was buried alive, whilst the deliberate removal of markings on his casket implies that he was dishonoured in death.   The tomb also contains a small box, inside which is a papyrus scroll.  When one of the team is transcribing these ancient writings, the mummy suddenly comes to life...  Ten years later, Whemple's son, Frank, is leading another expedition and, like his father, makes a remarkable discovery.  This time, he uncovers the tomb of an ancient Egyptian princess, Ankh-es-en-amon.   Not long after, Frank Whemple is visited by a strange old man, who shows a keen interest in his findings.  What Frank doesn't know is that the old man is the reanimated mummy his father discovered, an Egyptian priest named Im-Ho-Tep.  Nearly four thousand years ago, Im-Ho-Tep was madly in love with the Princess Ankh-es-en-amon.  When the latter was on her deathbed, the priest sought to revive her by incanting an ancient mystical text.  His attempts were thwarted by the king who, incensed by this sacrilege, decreed that he be buried alive in an unnamed tomb.  For thirty seven centuries, Im-Ho-Tep has waited, immured in his tomb.  Now that he is free, he has one thought: to find Ankh-es-en-amon through her latest reincarnated form.  Unfortunately, this turns out to be Helen Grosvenor, the woman whom Frank Whemple has fallen in love with...