Lee Cronin's The Mummy Review: Tombs, Terrors & Tantrums The Mummy Returns
· Free Press Journal
Title: Lee Cronin’s The Mummy
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Director: Lee Cronin
Cast: Jack Reynor, Laia Costa, May Calamawy, Natalie Grace, Veronica Falcón, Shylo Molina, Billie Roy, Hayat Kamille,
Where: In theatres.
Rating: ***
A sunlit home on the outskirts of Cairo, a family bound to an ancient secret, and a child who vanishes without a trace set Lee Cronin’s The Mummy in motion with disquieting precision. What begins as a tale of loss soon mutates into a feverish descent into possession, grief and grotesquerie, stitched together with ancient myth and modern anxiety.
This reimagining abandons the swashbuckling charm associated with earlier iterations and instead embraces the clammy dread of possession horror. The familiar iconography remains in fragments, a sarcophagus here, cryptic scripts there, but the film is far more interested in the human body as a site of invasion than in archaeological adventure. The shift is bold and, for the most part, effective.
The narrative follows a family ruptured by the disappearance of a child, only to be forced into a far more unsettling reunion years later. The emotional core, rooted in parental guilt and denial, lends the film its initial gravitas. Yet, as the horror escalates, subtlety is often sacrificed at the altar of excess. The film revels in its own nastiness, pushing boundaries with scenes designed to provoke discomfort rather than contemplation.
There is an undeniable craft in the mounting dread, but the storytelling occasionally feels fragmented, as though the connective tissue between its more extravagant set pieces has been hastily assembled. Still, the sheer audacity of its vision keeps one invested, even when coherence falters.
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Actors’ Performance
Jack Reynor brings a grounded intensity to the role of a father grappling with the impossible. His performance captures both vulnerability and disbelief, anchoring the film amidst its more outrageous turns. Laia Costa complements this with a portrayal that oscillates between maternal resolve and quiet desperation, giving emotional weight to the narrative’s central conflict.
Natalie Grace, tasked with embodying the film’s most disturbing presence, delivers a performance that is as physically demanding as it is unsettling. Beneath layers of prosthetics and distortion, she manages to convey a chilling unpredictability that lingers. The supporting cast, particularly May Calamawy and Veronica Falcón, add texture without overshadowing the central drama.
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Music and Aesthetics
The film’s aesthetic is unapologetically grimy, favouring textures that feel almost tactile in their discomfort. The visual palette oscillates between sun-scorched desolation and claustrophobic interiors, creating a persistent sense of unease.
The sound design plays a crucial role in amplifying this effect. The score leans heavily into discordance, punctuated by unsettling auditory cues that keep the viewer on edge. While effective, the relentless intensity occasionally borders on fatigue, leaving little room for quieter, more atmospheric moments.
FPJ Verdict
Overall, this film offers a visceral, if uneven, experience. Not quite timeless, but certainly hard to ignore.