The Mummy's Shroud (1967)
Directed by John Gilling

Film Review

The third of Hammer's Mummy offerings is by far the weakest, not because it lacks artistry on the directing and design fronts, but because it feels like a lazy retread of what has gone before.  It's the same well-worn scenario of the previous Mummy films: British explorers break into Egyptian tomb, disgruntled local revives mummified corpse, mummified corpse then murders British explorers and is finally destroyed.  This time round, there is a feeling of complacency about the whole production and no one, least of all its director, seems to have his heart in it.  The Mummy's Shroud is one of the weakest of Hammer's forays into period horror but it has one or two redeeming features.  For one thing, this latest incarnation of the bandaged fiend is the most sadistic of the lot...

The last of Hammer's films to be made at Bray Studios, there is a noticeable 'end of an era' feel about the film.  Hammer's golden era was now behind it and an uncertain future lay ahead as the British film industry continued its relentless decline towards mediocrity and oblivion.  The Mummy's Shroud was director John Gilling's last work for the studio, a disappointing parting shot when you consider he directed two of Hammer's most atmospheric films the year before: The Plague of the Zombies (1966) and The Reptile (1966).  Saddled with a mediocre script that demanded far too much of its shoestring budget, Gilling made the best of a bad job and displays his visual flair in several stand-out sequences, most notably the destruction of the Mummy at the end of the film.  By contrast, the film's opening sequence - a life-sappingly overlong piece of unnecessary exposition set in Ancient Egypt - is as exciting as a wake in a television soap opera.  The budgetary limitations are painfully evident as Gilling attempts a Cleopatra-style epic on a budget of one shilling and sixpence.  It beggars belief that no one had the sense to cut the sequence entirely.

Gilling is not to blame for the film's failure, and neither is his cast, which includes some superb acting talent.  André Morell, a regular star of Hammer's films in the 1960s, turns in another compelling performance as the driven archaeologist, a perfect contrast with the odious villain of the piece, a self-publicist played with relish by John Phillips.  Hammer stalwart Michael Ripper provides some badly needed light-relief as Phillips' overly attentive dog's body (any Mummy should be allowed at least one comedy death).  The supporting cast are also excellent, Roger Delgado being particularly memorable as the evil Mummy animator (and managing to be ten times more terrifying than the walking cadaver itself).  Given the quality of the script it is remarkable how good the performances are.  With a little more care and commitment, The Mummy's Shroud could have been one of Hammer's mores respectable offerings.   Hammer's fourth and final Mummy film, Blood from the Mummy's Tomb (1971), has far more to commend it, not least because it departs radically from the tried and tested formula and offers something frighteningly original.

Film Synopsis

In the 1920s, the world-renowned archaeologist Sir Basil Walden leads an expedition to Egypt to locate the lost tomb of the boy pharaoh Kah-to-Bey.  When Walden's team are caught in a sandstorm, the expedition's financial backer Paul Preston sets off in pursuit, just in time to witness the opening of the ancient tomb.  Ignoring warnings of dire retribution from the tomb guardian Hasmid, the explorers enter the tomb and find the well-preserved remains of Kah-to-Bey, wrapped in a shroud.  Unbeknown to Walden and his team, the shroud is inscribed with a sacred text that has the power to reanimate the pharaoh's mummified high priest, Prem.  Hasmid steals the shroud and uses it to awaken Prem, who is despatched to punish the ones who have desecrated the tomb of the pharaoh...