Showing posts with label Amarna. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Amarna. Show all posts

Sunday, June 5, 2011

The Mummy, Part III

Oh, man, have I ever neglected this blog. I guess I really needed some time to recover from Jack Hunter. For those of you waiting with bated breath to hear more about that particular atrocity, don't worry -- I’ll get back to it. Eventually. I may have to get totally soused first, but I will do it. Meanwhile, let’s return to some relatively good (and infinitely more palatable) Egyptology.

Aaaah, that's better.

When I left off, we had just been introduced to Helen Grosvenor. Thanks to a couple of convenient plot point dispensing Englishmen, we know that she’s half Egyptian and that her father (“English, of course!”) is the governor of Sudan. She’s a patient of Dr. Muller (Is he an MD? A psychologist? What is he treating her for, anyway? Why does he also have all this knowledge of ancient Egyptian magical practice? What’s this guy’s deal?). She’s obsessed with ancient Egypt and scornful of all things modern. She's conveniently living with Dr. Muller and his wife in Cairo.

Meanwhile, Imhotep is still hanging out at the museum, where he meets Sir Joseph for the first time. Sir Joseph is delighted to meet the man who led the BRITISH MUSEUM FIELD FORCE (aka Frank) to the tomb of Ankhesenamun, and is eager to show him some hospitality.

But Imhotep does not appreciate Sir Joseph getting all up in his personal space. "I dislike to be touched. An eastern prejudice," he explains. Which . . . really doesn't make a lot of sense. The real reason, of course, is that he's still kind of crumbly.

They hang out for a few minutes in Sir Joseph's office, but Imhotep isn't feeling especially sociable. It doesn't help when Frank comes in and mopes at him. Imhotep takes off, and Frank continues to mope.

"Friggin' Cairo Museum, man! What's the point of finding all that treasure and shit if they won't let us keep it?"

Sir Joseph reminds his son that archaeology is about "science, not looting." Once again, thank you, Sir Joseph.

Meanwhile, Imhotep camps out in the museum with the Scroll of Thoth and starts reciting the spells, presumably with the idea of resurrecting the mummy of Ankhesenamun. Instead, he ends up summoning Helen, who is (of course) Ankhesenamun reincarnated. She wanders off in a daze, catches a cab to the museum, and ends up passing out at the front door when she can't get in. Fortunately, Frank is on the scene, and he scoops her up and carries her home. She tosses and turns on the Whemples' couch, "speaking ancient Egyptian."

And by "speaking ancient Egyptian", I mean listing off the names of various pharaohs. Seriously.

Then she wakes up to Frank, the smooth operator.

"Durr, hi, I'm Frank! I'm an Egyptologist, but I don't really like it!"

"Did you know I found a girl mummy? She was really hot. You look just like her!"

"Let's do it."

Meanwhile, Dr. Muller is trying to convince Sir Joseph that Ardath Bey is the missing mummy, and that he should burn the Scroll of Thoth. Sir Joseph is not keen on the idea of burning a rare Egyptian magical text (thank you, Sir Joseph!). They call Frank in for a consult, but he's too busy moping about being cockblocked by the old farts to contribute much to the discussion.

Then Imhotep shows up and immediately starts putting the moves on Helen.

Frank, sensing that another dude is moving in on his love interest, springs into action.

Wait a minute, WTF is that?! Is that a giant canopic jar? I think it is! Ahahaha, that's awesome! That must be one hell of a liver in there. And while we're on the subject of WTFery:

WTF is this? It looks like Taweret with a lion head and . . . hooves?

Anyway, Dr. Muller confronts Imhotep and shows him the partial transcription of the scroll that Goofy Assistant made ten years earlier:

Those are real Egyptian words. They just . . . don't particularly make sense strung together like that. Imhotep claims he can't read the glyphs because they are "predynastic". Um, no. No, they are not.

Imhotep pretty quickly admits to being the mummy, and then takes off after dropping a few threats. Sir Joseph decides it would probably be best to burn the scroll after all, and is in the process of putting it in the fireplace when Imhotep uses his magic jacuzzi of evil sendings to give the poor old fellow a heart attack.

Aw, Sir Joseph. You were the closest thing to a legit Egyptologist in this movie. *takes hat off*

That's it for tonight. I'll be back with the fourth (and final?) part tomorrow!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

A Little Perspective

Okay. So you remember how I lovingly called Frank Whemple a doofus and an asshat in the last segment of my Mummy review? How I suggested that he was a less-than-ideal representation of an Egyptologist, and maybe a bit shallow? Well, I hereby offer my humblest apologies, Frank Whemple. Things have been put in perspective for me. I just watched . . . Jack Hunter: The Quest for Akhenaten's Tomb.

I . . . I am honestly struggling to put this into words.

I already let on that The Mummy actually has fairly decent Egyptology in it, in addition to just being a good movie. Well, in comparison to the movie I just watched, it is a towering exemplar of meticulous scholarly research. Frank Whemple may be a bit vapid, but I can at least honestly say he is charming. Compared to the . . . . uh . . . "protagonist" of JH:TQFAT, he is a paragon of scholarly integrity and dashing heroism.

Is The Mummy sometimes less than tasteful in its portrayal of the modern Egyptian people and their culture? Yes. No, the time period in which The Mummy was made does not really excuse this. But compared to JH:TQFAT, the portrayal of Egyptians in The Mummy seems downright progressive.

How about the portrayal of women? Helen Grosvenor/Ankhesenamun was decidedly her own person. In fact, this is one of her defining characteristics. She doesn't let anyone push her around . . . including, in the end, Imhotep, who is controlling her with fucking magic. The women in JH:TQFAT are completely driven by their desire for the . . . no. I can't use the word "hero". The "protagonist".

I . . . I have no words.

I'm not ready to tackle this one fully yet. I have to go back to The Mummy first. I need to cleanse my brain with its soothing awesomeness and the sometimes misguided, but often surprisingly well-executed attempts at Egyptological authenticity. I LOVE YOU, THE MUMMY!

*sobs quietly in a corner*