Two Men, Two Mummies

What is it about the The Mummy films, of 1932 and 1999, that frighten viewers? It can't be the Mummy itself; it's only seen for a very short time. The dried husk in the one and the “juicy” specimen in the other are on screen for only a few seconds. These are “monster” movies, but it's not the appearance of the monster that frightens. Both Mummies are hard to look at, but neither is wrapped in decaying cloth, dried up, and wrinkled for long. It's their power that frightens the fictional characters in the film and the live audiences in theaters and homes.

In the 1932 film, Boris Karloff's dessicated face and hands make viewers yearn for a damn good balm. Karloff's Mummy wakes in eerie silence, with deliberately slow movements. The camera lingers on his slowly opening eyelids, on the drop of first one bandaged hand and then the other, on his gentle caress of the Scroll of Toth that revived him, and lastly on his trailing wrappings as he exits. He takes what he needs and leaves the lone human present untouched. “He went for a little walk,” says the so-called “young Oxford chap” who awoke the Mummy, laughing maniacally. “You should have seen his face.” We have; it made us itch.

When next we see the Mummy, he is a man; old and dry, but clearly a man. Karloff's thin limbs and stiff posture are covered in long robes with high-necked dickeys. He is still dessicated and brittle, but definitely human. More important though, his eyes are alive and knowledgeable. It's immediately clear that this man/Mummy has knowledge and contempt of which to beware. Viewers know to fear him even before he says meaningfully, “We Egyptians are not permitted to dig up our ancient dead. Only foreign museums.” When you laugh, it's with a little worry. He calls to Anck-se-ne-Amun in a soft chant that only her reincarnated subconscious can hear and heed. With a similar quiet menace, he forces others to bend to his will or suffer the consequences. With beaming eyes and spells whispered through rigid jaw, he bends commands, “Return that scroll to me, or die.” From his lodgings decorated with only Egyptian antiquities, he watches, controls, and kills by apparent heart failure. And when death reaches him once again, it's only a sudden decomposition that occurs; his dried remains crumble into bones and dust. Not at all scary.

In 1999, Arnold Vosloo's Mummy is an altogether different creature. The scene of Imhotep's live mummification is an homage to Karloff in the same scene. Both men wear the same bewildered expression as their body is wrapped. Beyond that, they share only two characteristics; they are both devout and devoted. In flashbacks we see the men they were; devout high priests and devoted lovers.

In the first sight of Vosloo's Mummy, its gamy consistency, empty eye sockets, and gaping mouth are thrust at the audience with a screech. This Mummy awakens with an angry roar and lunges into action. He surges forth on an immediate hunt for the body parts he's missing and for those who have taken them. Vosloo too wears long robes, but his are gauzy and flowing, open to reveal an increasingly chiseled physique interrupted by a mere gauzy loin garment. Soon, this Mummy is healthy, strong, supple, and still royally angry. His movements are swift and powerful. And he doesn't waste time with requests, duplicity, or explanations. His rage is obvious. And his vengeance is wicked.

Neither Mummy truly frightens. Karloff's pacing and glowering are as amusing as Vosloo's loping run and protruding chest. Still, as the 1932 trailer says, “There is nothing on Earth like the Mummy.” So sit back and enjoy them both!

In the Interest of Science

Do you ever wonder about the sanity of some scientists? For “knowledge,” some of them are willing to go to lengths most people deem unreasonable. They perform tasks like diving to dark, heavy-pressure depths; enduring bone-chilling cold; traveling through areas riddled with deadly animals and insects; even laughing in the face of ancient, life-threatening curses. Who are these people?

They are people who don’t allow obstacles of any sort or size deter them. They are the zealous and overzealous who accomplish the seemingly impossible. They are studious and dedicated. They are meticulous and obsessive. And they are a little bit crazy.

They are people like Sir Joseph Whemple of the 1932 “The Mummy,” who makes heartfelt statements like:

“Our job is to increase the sum of human knowledge… Not to satisfy our own curiosity.”

And:

“I can’t permit your beliefs to interfere with my work.”

And:

“In the interest of science, even if I believed in the curse, I’d go on with my work.”

He does go on with his work, to the detriment of others and, eventually, himself.

The same do-or-die spirit is displayed in “The Mummy” of 1999, in which the Egyptian museum curator makes egoistic declarations such as:

“We are scholars, not treasure hunters.”

And:

“For over three thousand years we have guarded the City of the Dead. […] to do any and all in our power to stop the High Prince Imhotep from being reborn into this world.”

Okay, maybe that last one is a bit much. But he, too, eventually pays the ultimate price.

These are people who live in a world where every question can be answered, every puzzle can be solved, and every evil overcome. Theirs is no world for the skeptical, doubtful, or irresolute. For people like these, we have many reasons to be grateful.

Life After Death

“It comes to life!” is the tagline for the 1932 film The Mummy. It seems a pretty straightforward statement. But although death does not appear in this tagline, this statement is really about death. “The mummified remains of some dead person are now alive again, freed from death.

“Death is only the beginning” is one of the taglines for the 1999 version of The Mummy, in which Imhotep speaks those very words as he succumbs to death for a second time. And I wonder, “The beginning of what exactly?”

For millennia, people have claimed knowledge of what came before and what comes after. I do not profess any such knowledge.

Per my Catholic upbringing, I should believe in either a lovely or a terrible hereafter based on the life I'm living here and now. Hindus believe in reincarnation and karma where the goal is to escape that very cycle. The ancient Egyptians believed in arriving at the afterlife with a well-mummified body, a guilt-free heart, and the right knowledge from the Book of the Dead in order to live again.

Here is the truth that I do know:

I don't know what the heck happens after death. I don't know if I'll be needing any or all the parts of my body. I don't know where my soul will go or whether it will need my body, a body, any body. And I don't want to know.

Just as I don't want to dwell on how I'll die, I don't want to dwell on what, if anything, will happen afterward. I don't want to live this life always planning for, worrying about, or hoping for the next.

Here are some other truths I do know:
- I want to be now the best that I can be instead of having regrets later.
- I want to enjoy this level/life/existence because in any other that may come I'm not likely to know that I'm there rather than here, remember what came before, or wonder if there will be another.
- I want to enjoy this life in present sight instead of in hindsight because coulda, woulda, shoulda doesn't make anybody happy.

Now you, you can believe whatever the heck you want.

What a Way to Go!

A lesson from "The Mummy" films of 1999 and 1932

I don't like to think about how I’m going to die. I imagine most people are like me in this respect. My demise was inconceivable at age 10, purposefully ignored at age 20, and now at age 40 peeking up for my attention.

Why do I fear Death, shun Death, ignore Death? Three little reasons: pain, deterioration, long death throes. Think about how these aspects of death worked out for Imhotep in "The Mummy" of 1999.
- Pain: mummified while still alive; eaten very slowly by scarabs
- Deterioration: from handsome to decayed and "juicy"; from religious leader to hunted prey
- Length of Death Throes: 3 millennia!

What does this all lead to? Think about the worst-case scenario. In the 1932 film "The Mummy," of unearthed Imhotep it is said that he “looks as though he died in some sensationally unpleasant manner.” Just so we are all clear on this one point, let me spell it out: I do not want to have that said about me. Nope. No way. No, thanks. I’m aiming for something more like “peacefully at home surrounded by close family and friends”; or “suddenly while swimming in the turquoise waters off Bermuda”; or “calmly while penning the last line of her highly-anticipated next novel.”

What would I see as an acceptable death? Something that is quick, happens while I’m having fun, and causes no suffering for my family and friends. But on that, and any further details of any sort of “ideal” death, I still refuse to dwell.

(Instant) Karma

A Brief Meditation on (Instant) Karma from "The Mummy"
Or Why You Needn't Worry About Getting Even

You know that urge you get to retaliate at, say, a driver who cut you off at 70 mph? Let it ease on down the road.

That fantasy you have of sending door-to-door solicitors to the cornfield? Send it packing to the next house, the next street, the next neighborhood.

Your plan to gift the neighborhood's howling dog to friends with a ranch 20 miles out of town? Save it for holiday gift-giving instead.

The voodoo doll and the sparkling sharp needles intended for your inept boss? Keep them for the religious fundamentalists trying to gain political office.

A curse you want to hurl at the leader of your home owners' association? Forget about it!

You needn't risk your life, limb, or soul to engineer payback. For as Evy wisely points out, “Nasty little fellows [...] always get their comeuppance. [...] Oh, yes. Always.” (Don't you just love the word “comeuppance”?)

That's right. Everything has a consequence. Every action has a reaction. Every vibe spreads like a ripple through still water. And since the Earth is a sphere, what starts in one person comes around back to that person.

The consequence of a misdeed can take any form. It can take a mighty long time in manifesting, too. And its sufferer is not likely to know why some calamity has befallen him or her. And you are even less likely to know anything about it. It's not for your benefit or prurient thrills, after all.

Just don't worry yourself with tricky machinations. Don't risk your ever-lasting soul with ill intentions. Let Karma do her thing as she always does. Always.

Of Heroes and Hotties in The Mummy

(For a certain friend of mine, for any woman measuring up a man, and for all the boys who like boys.)

Looking for a good man? Let the heroes and hotties of The Mummy help you identify him. Just ask yourself these questions about your potential hunk.

1.Is he willing to do anything whatsoever for the woman he loves?
“For his love, Imhotep dared the gods' anger by going deep into the city, where he took the Black Book of the Dead from its holy resting place.” And then “he was condemned to endure the hom-dai , the worst of all ancient curses; one so horrible it had never before been bestowed.” He risked and lost. And was then sentenced to be “an undead for all of eternity.” Now that is commitment!

2.Is he honest even to a fault?
When asked by Evy why he kissed her, O'Connell admits simply, “I was about to be hanged. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” And when Evy storms off, he's oblivious about why she is angry. You can't fault a man for being honest, can you?

3.Does he know the value of a good woman?
O'Connell very subtly admits Evy's great value when he explains to Jonathan that he probably could have gotten their camels for free by simply giving Evy to the trader. On the surface, this seems like an insult. But the look on O'Connell's face and the tone of his voice belie his true feelings.

4.Is he an old-fashioned gentleman?
Every lady wants a gentleman, whether she knows it or not, whether she notices or not.
O'Connell: You're in her seat.
Beni looks at O'Connell and chuckles.
O'Connell: Now.
Beni hops up and leaves.
Evy sits down chattering about scarab skeletons.

5.Is he brave through and through, perhaps to the point of cockiness, recklessness?
Ardeth Ray: I told you to leave or die. You refused. Now you may have killed us all. For you have unleashed the creature that we have feared for more than three thousand years.
O'Connell: Relax, I got him.
Ardeth Ray: No mortal weapon can kill this creature. He's not of this world! [...] We must now go on the hunt and try and find a way to kill him.
O'Connell: I already told you I got him.

And for extra credit:
Does he maintain his rugged good looks by keeping his teeth pearly white regardless of... anything?
I love a man of good grooming. He doesn't need to be a metrosexual, or fit any other trendy monicker. He just needs to maintain a basic level of hygiene. And the heroes and hotties of The Mummy apparently do. O'Connell, Jonathan, and Ardeth Ray cross the Sahara repeatedly, do time in a Cairo jail, deal with biblical plagues, and fight off and outwit powerful mummies, all the while complementing their handsome faces with bright white smiles.

Either You're In, or You're Out

Much has been said, by professionals and nonprofessionals, about self-destructive behavior. I'm of the nonprofessional party, but that won't stop me having my say. Here it is: You want to be self destructive? Do it all the way, or don't bother with it. As Yoda in another great movie said, “Try not. Do... or do not. There is no try. ”

Like any endeavor, there is no point in taking on self destruction haphazardly. Self destruction is not a hobby, it's a way of life. The keys to good self destructive behavior are commitment, style, and enjoyment. How do I know this? From watching The Mummy. Where did I find my models? In The Mummy. Who are the best examples? Two characters from The Mummy, Jonathan and Beni. They are the antithesis of the movie's heroes. Watch their antics, and you'll see.

Jonathan is self destructive in many different ways. He's a thief and a liar. He's a coward, and he's weak. He's a drunk who pretends to be a missionary. Maybe he's just a very bad missionary. (That's got to be some sort of sin, or blasphemy, or something.) Jonathan is not nearly as successful an archaeologist as his sister Evy is, or as their parents apparently were. He even has a death wish. (Remember his wish to join the dead when he brings the key to Evy at the museum.) Jonathan has all the self destruction bases covered. But he wears natty British archaeologist chap clothes and is having a damn good time self destructing!

Then there is Beni. What can we say about Beni? One simple sentence is all that's needed to sum him up. Beni is one greedy so-and-so. His commandments seem to be: Make money any way you can and save yourself any way you can. How to make money? Swindle, any and every body. Cheat, the American treasure hunters for one. Sacrifice, your friends, your enemies, any random stranger before yourself. (“You're my only friend” he tells O'Connell. Yeah, right!) Make deals with the “devil,” in this case a powerful, lovelorn mummy. And for the CYA maneuvering? First, lie, lie, lie; to your buddy O'Connell, to your living-mummy master Imhotep. Second, cover all your bases, even if it means wearing a fistful of amulets and memorizing as many prayers to the appropriate deities. Third, run away early and often. Fourth, run away fast and far!

If you're planning to pursue self destruction as a way of life, don't look to drug-addicted actors and underpants-shunning singers for pointers. Turn to the guiding example of the scoundrels of The Mummy.

Zingers

You know that one friend of yours that always has a clever comeback for any quip? You know the one. We all have that friend with the gift of precision use of the zinger. What’s the perfect one-liner for the surly morning barista? Your buddy drops it like the coins he won’t drop into the tip jar. And the sarcastic reply to some inane question? Your pal delivers it like a sweet song from honeyed lips.

Zingers are a handy tool for urban living. See the above examples if you’re in doubt. And they’re another tool for life that I’ve learned from The Mummy. Wondering what to say to the librarian who has knocked down every bookshelf? “Compared to you, the other plagues were a joy!” Hell yeah! And after her apology? “When Ramses destroyed Syria, it was an accident. You are a catastrophe!” Why can’t I ever think of good comebacks like these!?

I love a good zinger, but I can never think of one at the right moment. Maybe it’s that strict upbringing with no “talking back.” *sigh* Something else to blame on my parents. But I digress.

One of my favorite features of The Mummy is the zingers. From the very first scenes, the movie is filled with zingers.

“My body is no longer his temple!” –Anck-su-namun
--
“Your strength gives me strength.” –Beni
--
“Have you no respect for the dead?” –Evy
“Right now, I only wish to join them.” –Jonathan
“Well I wish you’d do it sooner rather than later[...]” –Evy
--
“You lied to me!” – Evy
“I lie to everybody, what makes you so special?” –Jonathan
“I’m your sister.” –Evy
“That just makes you more gullible.” –Jonathan
--
“You’re gonna get yours, Beni! You’re gonna get yours!” –O’Connell
“Like I haven’t heard that before.” -Beni

Zingers are fun; no question about it. But sometimes you don’t need to speak to zing. Your actions can do a lot of zinging all by themselves.

“What does a woman know?” asks the Egyptologist. In response, we are shown Evy explaining all sorts of nifty tidbits to O’Connell and the rest of her treasure hunters. Asked and answered. But Evy knows so much more than those tidbits.

Regardless of the Bembridge scholars’ complaint that Evy hasn’t spent enough time in the field—a detriment swiftly remedied as the film progresses—Evy is a fount of information about ancient Egypt. Pay attention; you’ll see. Who identifies Jonathan’s find? Evy. Who gets O’Connell out of prison? Evy. (Okay, not until after he’s hanged, and the noose doesn’t snap his neck.) Whose plucky camel gets to Hamunaptra first and wins the $500 bet? Evy. (Alright, that was more luck than knowledge, but who cares?) Who thinks to dig at the foot of Anubis instead of in his chamber? Evy! Need I go on?

Is the entire film the answer to “What does a woman know?” Maybe. And that is one good zinger.

The Virtue of Patience

“Patience is a virtue!” So chants Evy in the 1999 film The Mummy after her brother Jonathan exhorts her to hurry along her search for the golden Book of the Living to stop the regenerating mummy who is after them. And I wonder, “What kind of answer is that? Hurry up, woman!”

I’ll be the first to admit that Patience and I are not friends. We’re barely acquainted. The one major thing I know about Patience is that I’m sorely lacking in it. Up to now, I have managed to gain a minuscule amount of it. I know I need it; I can identify exactly when Patience has and would do me good, but it is difficult to engage it at the right moment. I know too when Patience has been and would be useless to me; like if I were being chased by a living mummy and its mob of minions. I would not, in that crucial moment, sing jauntily: “Patience is a virtue!”

What is a virtue anyway? I turned to the ever-reliable Merriam Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (11^th Edition) for the answer.

vir·tue \’vǝr-(͵)chü\ n [E vertu, virtu, fr. AF, fr. L virtut-, virtus

strength, manliness, virtue, fr. vir man – more at VIRILE] (13c)

1a : conformity to a standard of right: morality

b : a particular moral excellence

2 : pl an order of angels – see celestial hierarchy

3 : a beneficial quality or power of a thing

4 : manly strength or courage : valor

5 : a commendable quality or trait : merit

6 : a capacity to act : potency

7 : chastity esp. in a woman

Now, let us not get distracted by the sexist manly strength and womanly chastity. In the death-defying race against a creature bent on regenerating his mummified flesh, returning to life his centuries-dead beloved, and—oh yeah!—destroying the world, Patience is a virtue. Really! It’s “a particular moral excellence” that forces its bearer to help fight evil. And that “manly strength or courage” business? Yup, Patience is that, too. It’s even “a commendable quality or trait”! And most important in a mummy-chase situation, Patience is “a capacity to act.” When is it more important to do what’s needed than when saving your hide and all of humanity from a vengeful, not-quite-dead, very powerful mummy?

I’m with Jonathan on this one. When a mummy and his minions are closing in on you, speed is of the essence. Whether or not (cue Evy’s sing-song tone) “Patience is a virtue,” that is the time for a little haste not deliberation. Using Patience earlier would have been better, like when deciding whether to flee Egypt or defend it; or later, like when choosing to sacrifice oneself to save others.

So when is the right time to engage good ole patience in your life? Maybe the time is when you’re in line at a cashier behind a person who has apparently never written a check before. Or better yet, the time for Patience is when you grudgingly follow a car moving at 10mph below the speed limit until it approaches a yellow light and races through the intersection, leaving you smoldering at the red. You get the idea.

Patience may not always be emotionally satisfying, but I say remember how handy it is and use it... judiciously.