Mockbuster maestro The Asulum has dispatched its reply to Lee Cronin's The Mummy.
The Mummy: Bride of the Dead (aka The Mummy or The Bride of the Dead) is written/directed by Maurice (Owning Mahowny) Chauvet and does, in fact, reflect Cronin's blend of Universal mythology meets The Exorcist, wrapped within an Evil Dead context, but against expectation, these evident inspirations are downplayed in the studio's cash-in offering. In this respect, it creates a haunted-mansion milieu, thanks to its baroque locale and titular, wandering spirit.
The effective and nuanced John "NEVERDIE" Jacobs, who acts as producer and exudes a Clive Owen-ish aura for his portrayal, plays Robert Corwin, an Egyptologist living in Mexico City. His grandfather disinterred and sold ancient goods through shady measures, and through such, Corwin has inherited a blue amulet/talisman shaped in the form of a woman (an authentic artifact from the Middle Kingdom, 2100-1800 BC, according to the credits). The piece harbors the spirit of Ara, a pharaoh's concubine, portrayed by the exotic and eerie Aproorva Mittra. Corwin learns that Ara was slaughtered by Michael Gallagher's Arnold Vosloo-ish priest four-thousand years prior, but now itches for resurrection through a fresh body.
That body belongs to his daughter, Isabel, played by Sheba Jade, who's also effective in her role, enacting convincing, transformational hints whenever Ara nudges her.
Tech-billionaire Charlotte Grove, portrayed by the smooth-talking, Demi Moore-structured Lisa Zane, wishes to tap the amulet's power to retrieve her comatose husband (Kevin McCorkle) from the netherworld. Grove's zeal places Isabel in further peril, as well as her mother, Elizabeth, played by Sienna Goines. Corwin, meanwhile, forms a surreal, symbiotic link with the vengeful concubine. (Their interlocking scenes are juxtaposed with aesthetic care, which, in less capable hands, may have proven jarring as opposed to the dreamlike and poetic manner in which they maifiest.)
The story moves with an air of quiet desperation, with many scenes staged in steely blues and wide stretches, due to photography director Andrew Parke, art director Cheri Moon and production designer Alyssa Katz. The combined ambiance bleeds into Cronenberg and Herzog territory, though for the most part, this Mummy marches in step with Mike Newell's The Awakening (one of several film adaptations based on Bram Stoker's The Jewel of the Seven Stars), in addition to John McTiernan's evocative, spirit-bound Nomads, though in Bride of the Dead's case, the story forecasts an apocalyptic reign overseen by evil gods (how Lovecraftian).
Coproducer/editor Sean Musaeus' score adds much to the tale's exoticism, accentuating old-world mysticism, creaky, 1920s decadence and modern menace. The audio diversity emphasizes the sequences, which juggle the extremes with forlorn elegance as the fable slinks toward a weird, looping climax.
Chauvet's movie is in no way a breakthrough. However, for a presumed knockoff, it stands as a quality entry in the mummy-curse genre. For horror fans, that makes it worth seeking, and I believe, at least among the mature, Monster Kid sect, its results should strike a nice, throwback chord. 𓀀
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