Lee Cronin's The Mummy

 

Welcome to the Reel Fictious Reviews, where film reviews don’t simply take a passive back seat but grab eager readers by the imagination. Instead of reviewing a story, I bring you into a story of my own to discuss the films in review. I hope you find these entertaining and informing!

Conversation with a Caretaker

Climbing my stairs late into the night I could feel the heavy burden of sleep weighing heavy on my head. With each step advancing further up the staircase in the dimly lit breezeway of my apartment building I could feel my head bobble side to side, like a drunkard tipping in his final moments of the bottle for the night. I barely remember driving back from the movies. But the movie itself, Lee Cronin’s The Mummy . . . I remember THAT, all too well!

My hands felt wet from the rain though my clothes were mostly dry. “What a strange thing”, I thought, wondering how my hands wound up so soaked yet the rest of me had dodged the drops of rain pouring down around me. By the time I could put forth real thought, I had reached my door. Fumbling with the fob key for my door’s lock, I had gotten lucky. By rubbing the right part of my key chain against the door’s sensor gave out the sound of a tiny “beep”. With a few twists of the nob and a couple of clicks from the cylindrical lock in the door, I was through.

As I stumbled in, my head bobbled even worse. My brain, it felt like … like it was drowning. That I could walk and just make it to the pull-out couch. The one I had sprawled out for my bed like every other night. No TV, no phone, just my head and the bed.

“Mr. Crawford?”, I heard an inquisitive voice from behind. “Sir, I don’t mean to bother but…”

I heard his voice from behind and I knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. And me, well … I knew I was supposed to be alarmed. Yet, I could only keep drudging forth to my couch bed. A piercing blow to my back, be it blade or bullet, would not have phased my charge forward. Cool sharp steal gliding by my throat and opening a river of red to run down my skin like a crimson curtain would not curtail my need to lie down.

“Mr. Crawford? Yes, I’m positive it is you, I’m afraid”, said the mysterious man in the doorway. Or, perhaps he was inside the hall by then. It was hard to tell. Either way, I just had to make it a few more feet. Just a few more feet and I could rest. I knew I wanted to fall facing up but I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to turn around. Moving forward with one last push I had the last second idea to let gravity do the work for me, if only I could lean a little more to the left and graze my body ever so slightly with he kitchen island that stood but feet away from my couch bed. Taking aim, I made contact with the corner of the island tabletop and let the momentum send me spinning around and landing backwards, slamming down into the bed. At long last, I could rest and focus more on who threw their voice in my direction while invading my home.

“Who … who are you”, I asked. “And what do…”, I began to ask before drifting off a bit. The sudden relief of being off my feet hit me all at once and I needed a moment to gain my composure.

“Well, as to who I am it really doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t get my real name anyway and I’m quite horrible at making up names, I’m afraid. I guess you can just refer to me by my official title. I’m The Caretaker”.

“The … Caretaker?”, I asked.

“Yes. You see, you went and saw a movie tonight, did you not Mr. Crawford?”

“Um, yeah”, I replied. “I um … I saw, Lee Cronin’s The Mummy”.

“I thought you might have”, replied The Caretaker. “I’d like to talk to you about the movie for a bit, if you’re up for it”.

Mere seconds had passed since I had laid down, but I somehow felt immediately better. More alert, more alive. Adjusting myself a bit I found a cozy composure among the blankets and pillows. Suddenly, a tinge of fear crept into my mind. This wasn’t a dream. This was real. There was a mysterious man in my kitchen, just feet away from me, with the door to the apartment closed and no one up and about in that late hour.

“What are you doing in my apartment!” I tried to yell as loudly as I could, though it sleeked out barely above a whisper. My stomach contorted as I tried to scream, my abs and chest tightening as my words left me. With such strain I just knew that there was no way for me to physically get any louder.

“Like I said Mr. Crawford, I just want to talk to you about the movie you saw tonight. Lee Cronin’s The Mummy. You seemed to enjoy the film, sir. In more ways than one, really, but fun all the same.

“Yeah, I saw it”, I replied, realizing there was no way around the situation and yet, at the same time, not feeling the slightest bit of hostility from him. “What did you want to talk about”.

The Review

“How was it? The movie, I mean.”, asked the Caretaker

“It was great”, I replied, sliding a bit further up my pillow to prop myself up better. “It was one of the best horror movies I’ve seen in a long time. Definitely the best monster movie I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Yes … monsters. Who doesn’t love a good monster movie, right? But what did you like about it specifically?

“There was so much to like it’s hard to say. I mean, I haven’t seen a horror movie that could make me wince or cringe like this movie did. Not since the last Evil Dead movie, Evil Dead Rise. I

Evil Dead Rise (2023)

mean, it honestly had a feeling super close to the Evil Dead series, but with mummies and an ancient middle-eastern backdrop to it.”

“Like the Evil Dead series, you say? But those were demons of a sort in that film, weren’t they? So, does that mean that this was really a mummy movie at all then?

“If you’re getting into specifics, I don’t know. There was mummification throughout and for a film that gave me such an experience, I’m going to let that count. But there was so much more, too. The extreme attention to the detail of pain was extraordinary. Without that then I don’t think this film would’ve hit like it did. And that detail of pain, it was always so explosive.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Crawford?”

“So, there would be something normal happening, something even helpful, and then in a split second there would be this explosive switch to something immeasurably painful happening. And they would show it with so much detail and specific sounds that you can’t help but squint your eyes, tighten your body in revolt, and even if for a second shun away from the gruesomeness.”

“And, that is all then, Mr. Crawford? It was just … just really gruesome? Doesn’t sound like much of a movie to me I’m afraid. Was there anything else then?”

“Oh yeah, and I agree with you too. Brutality alone, no matter how well done, can’t make a movie. The story itself, while not fully original, uses mumification and the ancient world in a way that feels fully original. While the rest of the world moves along normally and at its everyday pace, this one story shows a dark hint at malevolent magic in the world. An extraordinarily dark fantasy that there may just be something supernatural and sinister hiding around the corner of your world just waiting for you to make the wrong move. And if you do, then you will suffer ancient consequences!”

“You speak with so much … spirit, Mr. Crawford. Why, it almost sounds like you’ve regained yourself just talking about this. Almost like you’re an expert, even.”

“I’m … I’m not. I just really love horror. Especially horror with great writing and decent acting. That’s a harder ask than most people think you know. Finding good horror with good writing and good acting. But this had it! Not to mention you learn pretty quickly that this film has no boundaries in its pursuit of making you uncomfortable. Lee Cronin exposes every avenue of disgust, of pain, of complete torment to get at you. To unbelievable measures, in some ways. And it has a great ending. That’s the real tricky part too. With any story, really, but especially in horror. By its nature horror is meant to leave you a tinge of discomfort at the prospect of “what if” … what if I went through that, what if I felt that, what if … it was real. But it also its supposed to leave you feeling exhilarated. Like you just peaked past a veil of darkness you’re not supposed to know but just got the tabooed pleasure of experiencing it anyway! And this movie, it has an amazing ending fitting its story.”

“Wow, you really are a fan of film, aren’t you Mr. Crawford. Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the film sir, I really am. And now, I must tell you of why I’m here. And, as it happens, a part of the film you didn’t know about. Its … authenticity.”

The Taking

“Re….really? Authenticity? I … I wouldn’t go that far. The pain and experiences felt authentic but, the story itself … I just wouldn’t go as far as “authentic”.

“No, no … neither would I sir. But there was an aspect of true authenticity to it that no one in the public knew about. You see, that curse that they recite in the film . . . it was real! While it wouldn’t affect anyone normally, there is an exception. Anyone who’s being might have been in contact with a darker spirit at some point … who’s spirit has become intertwined with their own at even the slightest level … this curse recited in the film will awaken it. Unfortunately my dear boy, for you, there must have been a heavy presence lying dormant. Look at your hands.”

I looked at my hands and saw the wet sensation I had experienced earlier. Blood … my hands were completely covered in blood. Dried blood covering my skin all over with small pools of it still sticky and wet.

“What … is, is this mud”, I asked, already somehow knowing the answer.

“No sir. Its what remains of those you saw the movie with, I’m afraid. You see, we put this curse in the writing of the film and have other Caretakers standing by throughout the country waiting to see if they need to intervene. In your case there was no way to intervene until now. Once you heard those words recited from the film there was a darkness that awoke in you. It took over and, well, bloody slushies throughout the cinema, I’m sad to say. And now, it is my job to collect you before the authorities can show up and bring you back to headquarters.

“But I …. but …. but I just …. I wanted to see a good horror movie”, I pleaded, knowing full well the conviction behind his words were the start of a new frightening journey for me.

“Yes, I know … and it sounds like you did, Mr. Crawford. Unfortunately there is no time left to talk”, replied the caretaker. He took out a strange book from his coat pocket. “I know not what your mind and body will experience from here on young man, but at least you won’t need to worry of harming anyone else. And, as you said, you got to see one hell of a film. Time to go, Mr. Crawford”.

With that, words were recited, vision got blurry, and I quickly passed into darkness. I know not where I am now, or what future lies before me, but I say this . . . beware the hidden darkness of the world and while you may enjoy a great horror film, be weary of Lee Cronin’s . . . The Mummy!!!