Review – The Mummy’s Curse

Ah, I can still hear the disembodied voice of the Friday Fright Night announcer ringing in my ears. “I hope the mummy doesn’t stub his toe. Then we’ll really hear the mummy’s curse! Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh! At least if he hurts himself he’s already got plenty of bandages! Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh!” And so on. Not to mention the scratchy, faded prints, the telecine so cheap that huge wads of lint balled up on the screen, dancing like giant bugs before being swept away in the celluloid tide. Those were the days. Okay, now where was I? Oh, yes. This sequel to The Mummy’s Tomb manages to surpass the original by a small measure, though for the most part it’s just more of the same parade of clichés. As if the traditional sinister Egyptian stereotypes weren’t offensive enough, this time they’ve added an African American character who delivers lines such as “De mummy’s loose and he’s dancin’ wit de debbil!” Nostalgia has its limits, and much of this is well beyond them. See if desperate