The Mummy (1932)

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British archaeologists unearth a disgraced Egyptian prince (Boris Karloff) and accidentally bring him back to life. Ten years later, the mummy — looking conveniently human — schemes to reunite with his ancient lover, now reincarnated in the body of one of the archaeologist’s girlfriends (Zita Johann). In the pantheon of Universal’s classic monster movies, The Mummy is my least favorite by a large margin. Karloff’s performance is so slow and measured, it puts me to sleep. No one else in the movie is very interesting, either. And if a movie is called The Mummy, there better damn well be a mummy in it. Karloff is seen in full mummy wraps for all of two minutes, lying dead in a sarcophagus.

Some may applaud Universal for taking a different, more romantic approach than the much more gothic Dracula and Frankenstein. But this isn’t even a monster movie. It’s a bizarre love story between two characters that feel an inexplicable pull toward one another. They don’t really even love each other, so what’s left to engage our interest in this movie? For me, there are only two good scenes — an early exercise in restraint, and a climactic indulgence in the supernatural. Otherwise, for a better mummy movie, see Hammer’s 1959 version, or Universal’s big-budget 1999 remake starring Brendan Fraser.

With David Manners, Arthur Bryon, and Edward Van Sloan (who also appears in Dracula and Frankenstein). Directed by Karl Freund.