Essay: I Want My Mummy

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about monsters. Not the human variety monsters like Saddam Hussein or Jerry Sandusky, or even Kim Kardashian. Those are very real monsters for modern times, scarier than anything Hollywood can give us.

No, lately I’ve been fixated on the classic Universal Studios monsters from the thirties and forties, legendary monsters like Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolfman, and, my personal favorite, the Creature From The Black Lagoon.

Ever since I was a kid I’ve had a fascination with monsters. I saw all the movies multiple times and read Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine with a religious fervor. I collected all the model sets of the classic Universal monsters, carefully gluing the pieces together and painstakingly painting them, making sure to give Dracula a little trail of blood streaming from his mouth, or getting the Creature that right shade of green.

As a kid I never questioned the invincibility of my monsters. I never once doubted that, if attacked a monster, I wouldn’t stand much of a chance of survival. Fear alone would probably stop me dead in my tracks, unable to move or make decisions, rendering me easy prey. Years of familiarity wouldn’t help, either. I have a feeling that the Wolfman wouldn’t go easy on me just because I did a good job of painting his plastic model figure the perfect brown.

But as I get older I find myself asking questions, disturbing questions that directly challenge the fear factor behind some of my monster faves, questions whose frank answers threaten to expose vulnerabilities that as a youngster I wouldn’t dream possible.

For instance, could it really have been that hard to run away from the Mummy? While indeed frightening, he’s not the most mobile of monsters. He’s slow and lumbering, always dragging a foot behind him. And he’s wrapped in bandages, which I’m sure can be quite constricting.

Of course, I can excuse the Mummy if he’s a little slow in getting started. The guy’s coming out of a thousand year nap, so he’s probably a little groggy, and his energy levels are a little low; not having Red Bull in the afterlife is a bitch. But the Mummy never seems to be allowed to enjoy a little acclimation time, a quick cuppa joe before getting started.

It’s always up and at ‘em with the Mummy; they revive him and send him right out on his deadly mission of vengeance. So in any given Mummy movie you can expect a scene where the Mummy is chasing someone, usually the heroine who the Mummy believes to be the reincarnation of his ancient love, Princess Ananka.

This is particularly true in The Mummy’s Ghost (1944) when the chase takes place in a swamp, despite the fact that the film is set in Massachusetts. He’s lumbering around, she’s tripping over tree roots, nobody’s getting anywhere fast. No wonder the two of them drown in the unforgiving Massachusetts swamps.

The modern versions of the Mummy had him take on a human form, which just didn’t work for me. True, it made him much more formidable, and a lot more mobile, but a lot less frightening as well. In his human form he’s ripped, he’s got muscles on top of muscles. How you get a body like that while mouldering in a musty old sarcophagus for thousands of years is beyond me. But the fact that the human mummy looks like he’s more likely to have emerged from a gay porn video than an Egyptian tomb didn’t help with the scare factor.

No, I’m a purist. My mummies need to be old and musty, wrapped in bandages and smelling of mothballs. They need to be introspective, eerily serene and somewhat sad, not given to the theatrics of Dracula, the brute force of a Frankenstein monster or the savagery of the Wolfman. They need to have the wisdom of the years and a tragic backstory. And you can always count on the Mummy to bring all that cool Egyptology to the table.

As a purist, I don’t allow myself to linger on such questions for long, because I know that if attacked by the Mummy he would find a way to trap me and wreak his awful revenge, even though I painted his model figure the perfect shade of dusty grey with just a hint of brown.

Advertisements

About Stephen Kelly Creative

Hi, I'm Stephen Kelly, a writer, editor, photographer and graphic designer living in beautiful San Francisco, CA, USA. Amongst the things I love are writing, photography, movies, music, fitness, travel, Batman, all things Australian, food and fun, all of which I hope to reflect in this here blog. Welcome aboard ... now let's get busy!
This entry was posted in Essays, Film, Humor, Thoughts and Musings, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Essay: I Want My Mummy

  1. drewpan says:

    It’s like zombies. I love the Romero style of lumbering zombies, and utterly detest the super-agile nu-zombies made popular by 28 Days Later and the Dawn of the Dead remake.

    Zombies represent the slow and inevitable fall of society, and shouldn’t be just an alternate variant of aliens and piranhas.

    • Perhaps the new, faster zombies represent a society that is deteriorating at an more of an accelerated rate than anyone could ever imagine.

      My questions about this new breed of zombie is, where are they getting all this energy? They were dead, they came back to life, so one would imagine that their pace would be just as groggy and lethargic as the Mummy. Similar situation, right? What … are they all chowing down on a hearty breakfast before a day of marauding, maybe getting in some gym time before heading out?

      These are the things I think about …

  2. Hi 🙂 This made me laugh so much…I read the title and then saw the picture and just laughed out so loud even the cat came in to see what the the noise was about! Maybe it’s just *my* mind and sense of humour, but the two together…priceless! Thanks for making me laugh 😀 Immie 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s