SHOW ME: The Mummy (2017)

Who's The Mummy? Sofia Boutella as Ahmanet
Mummy's Love? Tom Cruise as Nick Morton
Where? Iraq, England, Egypt (in flashbacks)
How Long? 110 minutes

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I can't tell you how much I wanted to like this, to stand resolute in the face of the complete critical condemnation the latest iteration of The Mummy disappeared under upon its cinematic release.

But it really is that bad. It's a mess of unnecessarily repetitive exposition; over-the-top special effects sequences that are there only for inclusion in the trailers, serving no plot purpose whatsoever; a surfeit of bland characters; and a story of jumbled random encounters that made me think the writing team had simply transcribed a 13-year-old's Dungeons & Dragons campaign.

Tom Cruise is the nominal protagonist, Nick Morton, an amoral and opportunistic treasure hunter who uses his military career as a smoke-screen to loot valuable artefacts from war zones. Yeah, a real stand-up guy we can all instantly emphasise with!

I think we're supposed to like him purely based on the fact he's played by Tom Cruise. Sadly, that isn't enough.

Using a map stolen from British archaeologist Jenny Halsey (Annabelle Wallis), a character so one-dimensional she almost doesn't exist, Nick and his buddy Sergeant Chris Vail (Jake Johnson) stumble upon an unusual ancient Egyptian burial site in Iraq.

The sarcophagus of Ahmanet (Sofia Boutella) is retrieved and loaded onto a cargo plane. En route to London, Chris is possessed by evil spirits and killed, returning as a ghost that only Nick can see in a Griffin Dunne in American Werewolf In London sort of deal.

The plane suffers the mother of all bird strikes and crashes in the English countryside.

Nick miraculously survives the experience without a scratch. It seems he has been "cursed" by Ahmanet to be her "Chosen One".

There's a chase sequence involving Nick and Jenny in an ambulance, escaping Ahmanet and her newly-raised zombie followers.

This ends with Ahmanet being captured and our "heroes" being whisked off to London to meet Jenny's boss, Dr Henry Jekyll (Russell Crowe) of the Prodigium, a super-secret monster-hunting organisation located under the Natural History Museum.

The Prodigium want to dissect and study Ahmanet, but before they can she escapes and wreaks havoc on London, trying to recover a crucial gem hidden in a knight's tomb, recently unearthed by the Crossrail excavations.

Ahmanet needs the gem to complete a ritual that involves sacrificing her Chosen One (ie Nick) with a magical dagger that will then summon the Ancient Egyptian god Set.

Nick, however, comes up with a cunning plan to thwart Ahmanet's schemes... by doing exactly what she wants!

The Mummy is all over the place. There are traces of a good idea in there, but somewhere along the development process it clearly got away from the film-makers and took on a monstrous life of its own.

There's a definite whiff of the pulp genre's freewheeling disregard for logic in service of a rollickin' story here, but that style's bravura exuberance is replaced with generic corporate clichés.

A sterling example of film-making by committee, the fingerprints of the suits and money-men are all over The Mummy, leaving the unavoidable sensation that an eye-catching trailer was made first - to sell the concept to the general public - and then a film was assembled around that.

Outside of the unengaging leads, you have an antagonist with seemingly god-like powers, able to do pretty much whatever she wants - when it suits the plot - while conversely seeming impotent when it serves the plot.

For instance, one minute she's having to create zombie followers one at a time, by killing people and giving them a "kiss of life", and the next she can raise a horde out of thin air with just a wave of her hand.

There's so much material crammed in this 110 minute movie, clearly with the aim of laying the groundwork for Universal's proposed Dark Universe 'shared world' of monster movies, that even though the time flys by surprisingly quickly you can't help seeing large chunks that could easily have been left on the cutting room floor.

Russell Crowe is wasted as Dr Jekyll, whose outburst as Mr Hyde is - like so much here - pointless and Tom Cruise just phones it in, playing Tom Cruise at his least engaging. His performance is about as far away from his charming best as imaginable.

More an action-adventure funfair ride than a horror movie, the true horror of The Mummy is that anyone involved in releasing this into the wild ever thought it was a competent, coherent, movie in the first place.

PULP PICTURE OF THE MONTH: Werewolf of London (1935)

For the first 'talkie' about the werewolf legend, Werewolf of London is surprisingly modern ... in places.

This is pure Pulp fodder that should be devoured by Call of Cthulhu and Back of Beyond gamers, with a large side order of cheese and corn.

The adventure starts in Tibet with a botanical expedition for a rare plant in a mysterious valley, then quickly moves to London where the picture's anti-hero, the grumpy Dr. Wilfred Glendon (Henry Hull), struggles to cultivate the Tibetan plant in his laboratory ... using a gadget that generates artificial moonlight!

Not only that but - and remember that this is 1935 - he has a CCTV monitor to see who is approaching the lab. How Doc Savage is that?

Things go wrong (naturally) and, thanks to a bite he sustained on his travels, Glendon transforms into a wolf-man and starts eating ladies of the night.

Warner Oland turns up as the sinister werewolf expert Dr Yogami, who tells the bumbling police that the killer they are seeking is suffering from "werewolfery" or "lycanthrophobia", but he has his own secret and an eye on the Tibetan plant (the only known cure for "werewolfery").

There are no truly sympathetic characters in this wonderful little film; ultimately only the wolf-man comes out as redeemable because, while a killer, he is driven by forces beyond his control and is constantly wracked with guilt and remorse. In some ways it is more Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde that the werewolf films we are more used to these days.

The 1930's script and acting veers from the sublime to the arch, the subtle to the ham-fisted, but Werewolf of London is only 72 minutes long and I've seen far, far worse acting, dialogue and effects in films made many years later.

Hellraiser (2022)

In this remake/sequel to Clive Barker's definitive, original Hellraiser from 1987, a penniless, former junkie, Riley (Odessa A’zion) and her loser boyfriend, Trevor (Drew Starkey). decide to rob a warehouse, so she can make enough money to pay her brother, Matt (Brandon Flynn), the rent she owes.

Unfortunately, what they end up stealing is a dread magical puzzle box that opens a portal to Hell, summoning demonic Cenobites who demand a blood sacrifice.

After her brother is seemingly taken by the Cenobites, Riley and Trevor's investigation into what they have stolen leads them to the home of its former owner, the - presumed dead - billionaire hedonist, Roland Voight (Goran Višnjić of ER and Timeless).

There Riley must reach an agreement with the leader of the Cenobites, The Hell Priest (formerly known as Pinhead and played exquisitely by Jamie Clayton), if Riley is going to get her brother back.

Part of my problem with this Hellraiser is that Riley isn't a particularly engaging protagonist. Clearly inspired by Jane Levy's Mia from the 2013 remix of Evil Dead, it is, however, almost impossible to have any relatable sympathy for Riley until pretty much the final scenes of this current flick.

The lack of character depth is accentuated in the set-up to the final act - at Voight's elaborately constructed mansion in the middle of nowhere - that plays out like a generic "teens get in trouble and get slaughtered" slasher flick.

And that's my biggest issue with this take on Clive Barker's mythology: the Cenobites are largely portrayed as simply monsters to be fought, actors in rubber costumes that could be interchangeable with vampires, werewolves or any number of other supernatural creatures. 

For me, the sadistic Cenobites work best when shown to be forces of nature, with almost Lovecraftian levels of inscrutability and power, totally beyond our comprehension and ability to combat with fists and physical weapons.

It is only when the 'angels of pain' are more static and still, as the film builds to its glorious climax, and we get to appreciate the porcelain nature of The Hell Priest's flesh and the power of her words (yes, she does get to recite some Pinhead classics from the original) that Hellraiser becomes more than just another monster movie.

For all that, although this film is around two hours long, director David Bruckner, coming off of The Night House, paces Ben Collins and Luke Piotrowski's screenplay really well, so the action carries you along and the movie never drags.

Bruckner permeates the film throughout with a building sense of dread, and that most certainly pays off in the end, with a denouement worthy of the original film as we get to witness the horrific creation of a new Cenobite.

While this Hellraiser wasn't on a par with the 1987 one, it was certainly better than the awful avalanche of sequels that followed that, and, actually, I'd be interested to see an inventive sequel to this Hellraiser, as long as the same team were behind the camera and they continued to build on what they established here.

Hobo With A Shotgun (2011)

If Camp Blood and Shark Exorcist set a new low in crapness that I will endure on DVD, then Hobo With A Shotgun has become the new benchmark by which all future OTT, Grand Guignol, splatterfests will be judged.

Inspired by a fake trailer from the Tarantino/Rodriguez Grindhouse double-bill of Death Proof and Planet Terror, Hobo With A Shotgun  is the charming tale of an ageing vagrant (Rutger Hauer), pushed over the edge by the violence and lawlessness run amok in Hope City, who turns vigilante - with aid of a pawn shop pump-action, 20-gauge shotgun - and delivers "justice one shell at a time".

In a Taxi Driver-esque development, he saves - then teams up - with a young prostitute, Abby (Molly Dunsworth), to take on the city's out-of-control crimelord The Drake (Brian Downey) and his two Tom Cruise-inspired sons Slick (Gregory Smith) and Rip (Nick Bateman).

This is Robocop meets Braindead (Dead Alive for Americans) with all the slick, sick, black humour and ridiculously over-the-top gore you would expect from such a pedigree.

Not for the feint-hearted, closed-minded or humourless, Hobo With A Shotgun is in a class of its own for tongue-in-cheek shocks and taboo-bending casual violence (Torching a packed school bus? A human piñata?) but it's also a straight-up revenge story with a mix of great, quotable, dialogue balanced with deliberately campy dialogue and a brilliant central performance from a grizzled Rutger Hauer.

Hobo is pretty much review-proof. It wears its grindhouse credentials with pride and the chances are you're going into this with a good idea of what kind of entertainment you can expect.

And if any sensitive, serious, cineastes should stray into a screening of a film called Hobo With A Shotgun they're going to get what they deserve.

Ouija (2014)

When their daughter unexpectedly kills herself, Debbie Galardi's (Shelley Hennig) parents move away, leaving their home in the care of Debbie's best friend, Laine Morris (Olivia Cooke).

Laine can't find it in herself to say goodbye to her best friend and so convinces a handful of other teens to join her in playing with a 'spirit board' (aka a ouija board) to try and contact Debbie. This is a game Laine and Debbie played as kids and she knows it isn't real, but just needs some form of closure.

However, when the gaggle of teenagers are gathered in Debbie's old house they do make contact through the board and when greeted with the message "Hi Friend", they believe they've reached Debbie. Unfortunately, they've actually connected with the ghost of a child murdered in the house decades earlier.

And, naturally, things spiral out of control from there.

There's a fairly decent backstory to the main plot of Ouija, but ultimately the film devolves into typical, trashy, teen pop horror because the writers fail to nail down any logic to the ghosts' powers and behaviour, instead letting them do whatever the filmmakers' think will generate a good jump scare.

Even the presence of the brilliant Olivia Cooke, who gets saddled with some contortedly corny lines that she manages to deliver with conviction nonetheless, can't save this effort from being all about the flash, rather than the substance.

Another wasted talent in the flick is Lin Shaye (of Insidious and other horror flick fame) who pops up as the batty sister of the murdered child; there's never any sense that she's doing anything more than reciting her lines.

It was also great to see Shelley Hennig again, a face I haven't seen since The Secret Circle disappeared off our TV screens several years ago (we have yet to be allowed to see the seasons of Teen Wolf where Shelley shows up).

However, while her fellow Secret Circle alumnae Jessica Parker Kennedy was owning it in Black Sails at this time, Shelley's role in Ouija - despite some unexpected appearances towards the end of the tale - isn't that rounded.

The film has its moments, but ultimately Ouija is a missed opportunity to craft a solid ghost story around the Victorian hokum of spirit boards.

If only more thought had been put into the internal logic of the piece and less on creating the next 'oh-so-clever' jump scare, Ouija could have elevated itself above its popcorn status into a decent horror film.

Never Sleep Again - The Elm Street Legacy (2010)

If you are at all 'into' the Nightmare On Elm Street series of horror films - as I am - then you owe it to yourself to seek out the incredible documentary Never Sleep Again - The Elm Street Legacy.

Although clearly a labour of love, this FOUR HOUR documentary isn't a straight lovefest for the franchise, but a proverbial 'warts-and-all' behind-the-scenes insight into the making of the series, chronicling the highs and lows, the conflicts, the cut corners etc offering an unrivalled insight into the world of low-budget movie making.

Running parallel to the main arc of the documentary is the story of how A Nightmare On Elm Street effectively 'made' New Line Cinema, the company that would eventually bring us Peter Jackson's magnificent Lord Of The Rings trilogy.

Each movie - from the original through to Freddy Vs Jason, and embracing the short-lived TV spin-off, Freddy's Nightmares - gets its own chapter, with a wonderful stop-motion animation bumper, and is packed to bursting point with talking heads of the majority of the main actors and movie crew, unseen footage and photographs etc

Unsurprisingly, Johnny Depp and Patricia Arquette (whose careers began in the franchise) are conspicuous by their absence, as is Peter Jackson (who wrote a draft of one of the later movies), but there are so many other - more than 100 - interesting interviewees with great things to say that you don't really mind (and didn't really expect them anyway).

For instance, I'm far more interested in Wes Craven's opinions of the sequels to his classic original or his insights into the post-modern brilliance of Wes Craven's New Nightmare, and Robert Englund (the one and only Freddy Krueger) is always good value for money.

Of particular interest are the revelations that several of the films were effectively 'made-up-as-they-went-along' as directors and crew raced to hit pre-determined release dates with unfinished scripts - which, I guess, explains the "dream-like" quality of some of the stories!

Narrated by Heather Langenkamp (aka Freddy's nemesis Nancy from the movies), the film also examines Freddy's transformation from child-murdering supervillain into cartoon cultural icon, and various attempts to reclaim the character as a genuine figure of fear.

The two-DVD set includes a disc of extras as fascinating as the main feature covering topics such as the Freddy Krueger comics and novels, hardcore fans (Fred Heads) and a tour of the movie locations used in the original Nightmare On Elm Street.

Insightful and entertaining, Never Sleep Again is the ultimate, definitive insight in to one of the truly iconic figures of horror cinema, who now ranks alongside Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, The Mummy and The Wolfman in the psyche of horror-loving film fans.

Thought Bubbles, Silver Age Easter Eggs, and A Super-Bunny - This Fun New Supergirl Comic Has It All!

I had every intention of reviewing the latest Supergirl #1 - part of DC's Summer of Superman initiative - but Sasha of Casually Comics got there first and has done a far better job than I ever could have.

In the absence of "editor's notes", I'm always impressed by Sasha's ability to spot Easter Eggs, especially those that are deep dives into the Silver and Bronze Age.

And Supergirl #1 appears to be full of these.

Pet Sematary (1986)

Before the latest adaptation of Stephen King's Pet Sematary hit cinemas in 2019, I thought I'd remind myself of the original from 1989, another veteran of the VHS years that I'm pretty sure I haven't seen for decades.

And, to be honest, while well made, it doesn't feel as though it has stood the test of time.

In a nutshell, a man is told - and witnesses with his own eyes - that if he does something, something bad will happen.

He does the something and the something bad happens.

Hilarity ensues.

A doctor, Louis Creed (Dale Midkiff), wife Rachel (Denise Crosby), and two young kids, Ellie (Blaze Berdahl) and Gage (Miko Hughes) move into a country house beside a road frequented by fast-moving lorries.

Thanks to friendly neighbour Jud Crandall (The Munsters' Fred Gwynne), they soon learn that in the woods behind their house is an old pet cemetery, where local pets killed on the road are buried.

However, while his family are away at Thanksgiving, Louis has to deal with the death of his daughter's beloved cat, Church, and so Jud leads him to an area way beyond the cemetery, a cursed Indian burial ground (because, America) that can supposedly bring creatures buried in it back to life.

But they come back "wrong".

Turns out the only time someone tried it with a human being, they turned into a flesh-eating zombie, so that's never been tried again.

Only, some time later, little Gage gets mown down on the busy road, and Louis kind of flips out (understandably), steals his corpse from the proper graveyard, and takes him up to the old Indian burial ground.

Naturally, the Gage that returns isn't Louis's beloved toddler... but a human Chucky doll intent on murder and mayhem.

Although working from a Stephen King screenplay, Pet Sematary has a whole host of problems, not least of which is that the central conceit - even if we accept that in this supernatural verisimilitude that the Indian burial ground has the power of resurrection - there are no anecdotes, not a single one, where using it has worked out for the best.

There is not a single iota of evidence to suggest that it brings someone back as anything except a soulless ghoul.

And yet, Jud still dangles it in front of Louis as a way to avoid having to teach his daughter about the fragility of feline life.

Then, on top of that, we have the kitchen sink approach to the story: there's an American Werewolf In London-style friendly ghost looking out for the family (Brad Greenquist); Ellie has very accurate and unambiguous prophetic dreams (which may be, but possibly aren't, connected to the appearance of the ghost); Rachel is haunted by her dead sister; when Gage returns from the dead he has the power to create very vivid illusions (something the earlier zombie in the film most certainly didn't have); in the denouement there's meaningful shots of clocks showing midnight - but time has never been mentioned as a factor in this process.

Even, stepping back from the surfeit of supernatural elements, towards the end of the movie a house burns down right at the side of the main road, but - even though considerable time passes afterwards - no fire engines or police cars ever show up to investigate.

I don't know if explanations were cut, or they were simply considered superfluous, but Pet Sematary feels - although it clearly wasn't, with Stephen King's direct involvement in the script - like a child making up a story as he goes along ("And then this happened, and then this, and you wouldn't believe what happened next...").

I'm hoping the remake corrects this jumbled storytelling and delivers a more cohesive narrative.

I get that the idea of a cursed burial ground that can bring people back from the dead is very creepy and that Pet Sematary is a tale about a man driven by grief to do something stupid and dangerous, but it's more contrived than convincing.

THROWBACK THURSDAY: Monster Mag #1

I've finally got round to scanning in the first of my treasured self-made Monster Mag comics, written and drawn by yours truly when I was only nine.

Self-published, with a print run of one, I thought I had lost these treasures from 1976, so when I found them last year after we had moved I couldn't believe my good fortune.

Fragile homemade artefacts, held together with sellotape older than Rachel (honestly, she wasn't even born when I drew these comics), I carefully scanned issue one this week and cast a critical eye over my work.

I was clearly influenced by the oddly-shaped, art-distorting, black-and-white British reprint titles, such as The Titans, which explains the horizontal page orientation of Monster Mag, and quite possibly the prevalence of Marvel characters within its pages (Thor, Hulk, Doctor Strange, Nick Fury to name but a few).

These big hitters were mixed in with characters of my own creation, such as the delightfully cheesy Ray-Kid, who, without his protective helmet, found his entire head transformed into ball of energy.

The presence of several Universal monsters (the Wolf-man, Frankenstein's Monster, The Mummy, and the Invisible Man) also seems quite random, as I have no idea how I glommed on to them.

Perhaps I was watching those movies far earlier than I remember.

Given that I believe it was my gran who took me to see The Amazing Mr Blunden at the cinema around this time, and scarred me for life with a hypersenstive fear of dying in a house fire, it's quite possible that she was letting me watch Universal horror movies on her black-and-white TV as well (along with the Saturday afternoon wrestling that preceded Doctor Who).

I think it was also my gran who wrote the date (February 26, 1976) on a couple of the pages, because that's clearly not my handwriting, and I have a vague recollection that I drew these comics during a couple of my regular Saturday sleepovers at her house.

Please enjoy the dreadful drawing and appalling spelling of Monster Mag #1:

I, now, just have to scan in issue two...