Say that headline fast three times. Hell, say it slowly twice. When talking Mummy movies, first there's The Mummy (1932), which has no real sequels. Then there's the Kharis-Ananka quartet the Mummy's Hand (40),
Tomb (42),
Ghost (44) and
Curse (44). Other than being about an ancient Egyptian mummy walking the earth, these four have little to do with the original, unless one counts the promiscuous mining of archive footage, forcing Imhotep to stand in for Kharis. In fact, Tomb, Ghost and Curse are sequels to The Mummy's Hand. The Mummy in these four films, played by Tom Tyler and then Lon Chaney Jr., is the weakest of the original Universal monsters, and the films in this series perhaps the least constrained by internal logic. Performance quality and character types run the scale in these four entries, and it's good fun comparing leading men, leading ladies, high priests, George Zucco's hair, and of course, Mummies. Although there are only two of these latter, you get to compare Chaney to himself, and he turns in three rather distinct (for him) performances, a thing that perhaps only Horror Babies like me can appreciate. Which brings us to Virginia Christine.
In The Mummy's Curse, Virginia delivers what is unquestionably the best moment in this post-Karloff series, and (aside from One-Take Zucco and his hair) perhaps the best performance in the series overall. Virginia takes a slight script and actually does something with it, something better than the material deserves, and far above anyone else (Martin Kosleck excepted) in the cast of Curse.
I don't mind saying that when I first saw this film long ago I fell for Virginia pretty hard. Not because she would have given Rita Hayworth any competition in a beauty contest, but because she's a Real Actress, and brings to Ananka a vulnerability and exotic mystery that is mighty attractive to a ten-year-old. And then, there's that MOMENT the one that appears on so many "Top Ten Moments in Horror" lists (Forrest J Ackerman, as I recollect, did not neglect to put it on some sort of list). Any Universal horror fan knows the one I mean: when Princess Ananka crawls out of her Bayou grave into the light of the sun and struggles unsteadily to her feet the weariness of three thousand years in her bones pulls herself erect in regal mud-caked dignity, walks life back into herself, and then gratefully sinks into the cleansing waters of the Louisiana Nile THAT moment. In that scene, and the ones that follow, Virginia Christine joins the legendary sub-Pantheon of Scream Queens populated by the likes of Kathleen Burke, Carroll Borland, Elsa Lanchester, Simone Simon, Elena Verdugo, Barbara Steele and Marilyn Burns (match the goddess to the classic, kiddies). Memories of these ladies will bring a smile to the faces of many an aging Horror Baby until well, until the last of us croaks, which should be any day now.
But The Mummy's Curse is Virginia's movie. Everyone else is just lurching around. Dennis Moore can't seem to find a costume that fits, Peter Coe flails painfully for an appropriate reaction and just misses every time, and Chaney What must he have been thinking about the whole thing? Alas, it is not to be known from his on-screen behavior. But Virginia you saved it, honey.
In The Mummy's Curse, Virginia delivers what is unquestionably the best moment in this post-Karloff series, and (aside from One-Take Zucco and his hair) perhaps the best performance in the series overall. Virginia takes a slight script and actually does something with it, something better than the material deserves, and far above anyone else (Martin Kosleck excepted) in the cast of Curse.
I don't mind saying that when I first saw this film long ago I fell for Virginia pretty hard. Not because she would have given Rita Hayworth any competition in a beauty contest, but because she's a Real Actress, and brings to Ananka a vulnerability and exotic mystery that is mighty attractive to a ten-year-old. And then, there's that MOMENT the one that appears on so many "Top Ten Moments in Horror" lists (Forrest J Ackerman, as I recollect, did not neglect to put it on some sort of list). Any Universal horror fan knows the one I mean: when Princess Ananka crawls out of her Bayou grave into the light of the sun and struggles unsteadily to her feet the weariness of three thousand years in her bones pulls herself erect in regal mud-caked dignity, walks life back into herself, and then gratefully sinks into the cleansing waters of the Louisiana Nile THAT moment. In that scene, and the ones that follow, Virginia Christine joins the legendary sub-Pantheon of Scream Queens populated by the likes of Kathleen Burke, Carroll Borland, Elsa Lanchester, Simone Simon, Elena Verdugo, Barbara Steele and Marilyn Burns (match the goddess to the classic, kiddies). Memories of these ladies will bring a smile to the faces of many an aging Horror Baby until well, until the last of us croaks, which should be any day now.
But The Mummy's Curse is Virginia's movie. Everyone else is just lurching around. Dennis Moore can't seem to find a costume that fits, Peter Coe flails painfully for an appropriate reaction and just misses every time, and Chaney What must he have been thinking about the whole thing? Alas, it is not to be known from his on-screen behavior. But Virginia you saved it, honey.