Sir Basil Walden (André Morell), wealthy and upright Paul Preston (David Buck), a generic soon-to-be-dead guy, and a hot psychic girl get lost in the desert searching for a boy pharaoh buried in a poor tomb. They couldn’t have gotten lost in a better spot (or Egypt is really small) as it turns out they are standing on the tomb, and the rescue party happens along almost immediately. That rescue party includes their boss, rich guy and all-around-heel Stanley Preston (John Phillips). They return to town and safety, or so they think, as a local nut-case fanatic and his mother use the shroud of the pharaoh to wake up a mummy and send him out killing all who entered the tomb.
I swear I’ve seen this all before. It’s hard getting the energy up to watch The Mummy’s Shroud all the way through, much less write a review of it. There is nothing new here, or exciting. It’s not all that bad either, not in the grand scheme of things, low budget horror-wise. But being better than other bland, clichéd retreads is not a slogan for an advertising poster, and that’s all The Mummy’s Shroud has to offer.
The acting is drab, or far over the top (the religious fantastic really needs to do a little less coke). Only the greedy and cowardly millionaire has a personality, but it’s a tiring one. The mummy suit is filled by Eddie Powell, who spent much of his time at Hammer as Christopher Lee’s stunt double. It could have been filled with fluff and moved by a crane for all the acting that shows through. I’ve seen worse mummy costumes, but I can’t recall where. And don’t let the cleavage-laden poster art fool you—there is no sexuality on display. No one even pretends to be interested in members of the opposite sex.
With so little on screen to capture my attention, I was free to let my mind wander to the little things, such as an ancient mummy’s knowledge of which photo-developing chemical will cause the worst burns. And does the over-acting demi-priest bring a sack lunch while hanging out in empty wastes? And was the tomb within a few miles of the city since everyone walks there and back in no time? And since it’s easy to shove things into the mummy, why don’t bullets pass through it and kill the person on the other side? In a more interesting film, these things wouldn’t matter, but here they are all there is to dwell on.
Well, I could dwell on all the very very very white guys pretending to be Egyptians in the shabby back story. The Mummy’s Shroud was the last film Hammer shot at Bray Studios, and it looks like they tossed whatever random clothing hadn’t been boxed yet onto the moving men and told them to run around and play Egyptian warriors. That still makes them more believable than the sets. Not that any of that prepared me for the amateur joke that was the mummy. No makeup here. Just papier-mâché. You may get some enjoyment from laughing at the creature. It won’t be scaring you.
The whole affair is numbingly predictable, except when people act even dumber than expected (such as when the psychic girl goes off alone with mad religious “guardians” to ask the mummy for forgiveness… Really?) Slow paced, with not a single character to care about, as well as no frights, and a comic monster, The Mummy’s Shroud is a dismal affair.
Hammer’s “Mummy cycle” include The Mummy (1959), The Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb (1964), and Blood From the Mummy’s Tomb (1971).