Hammer Halloween Blogathon: Blood from the Mummy's Tomb

In 1959, Hammer released The Mummy, another remake of a Universal classic, to follow The Curse of Frankenstein and Horror of Dracula (aka Dracula). Like its predecessors, The Mummy was a stylish, gothic rendering filled with action, shocks and topnotch performances from Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. But quite unlike the previous two, sequels were slow to follow and weren’t nearly as memorable. The Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb (1964) was a sluggish B-movie, while The Mummy’s Shroud (1967), admittedly a vast improvement over Curse, is still largely unremarkable. Seth Holt’s Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb (1971) would prove to be a much different film.

Tera in her sarcophagus

An archaeological team unearths an ancient tomb in Egypt, in which resides the body of a priestess. The decision to disturb the tomb has dire results even before they take relics – the wife of Fuchs (Andrew Keir) dies giving birth to the couple’s daughter, Margaret, at the same time the discovery is made. Years later, Margaret (Valerie Leon) is the mirror image of Tera (Leon again), the Egyptian priestess, whose perfectly preserved remains lie in a sarcophagus in Fuchs’ basement, a recreation of the tomb. Margaret’s birthday is looming, and it’s the ideal time for Tera’s resurrection, her lost soul collecting her purloined relics, as well as the lives of the people who are holding them. 

This tomb doesn't look inviting.

Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb, adapted from Bram Stoker’s novel, The Jewel of Seven Stars, is a stellar film, drenched in atmosphere and a markedly somber tone. There’s nothing to marvel in the Egyptian tomb--it’s dark and dank, like the place of death that it is. The nights are covered in fog; a mental institution, where one of the archaeological team winds up, is a place of long corridors and deep shadows; and Margaret stands in never-ending gusts of wind without a visible source.

This relentlessly spooky ambiance comes through characters and performances as well. Dandridge (Hugh Burden) is petrified when he sees the grown Margaret, before the audience knows the full story of Tera (“It was her… She who has no name”). Corbeck (James Villiers) is hiding in a seemingly abandoned house across the street from Fuchs. Helen (Rosalie Crutchley), working as a fortune teller, sees a foreboding image of the seven stars (the same seven that form the Big Dipper). Director Holt also gives life to the inanimate relics by way of shadows and their mere presence when people are attacked by something unseen. Even the recurrent image of Tera is chilling, despite spending most of the film lying in a sarcophagus, eyes closed and looking very much dead.

She's tall, too.

Valerie Leon is impressive in the lead. For a good part of the film, Margaret is mesmerized, making return trips to the basement to stare at the priestess or the slowly restored relics. It’s a gradual transformation: she’s initially dazed but eventually it’s hard to tell if Margaret is simply captivated or if Tera has completely possessed her. The beautiful, rather lanky actress – just an inch shy of six feet – either matches her co-stars in height or towers over them. It’s an imposing posture that augments an already marvelous performance.



Peter Cushing was originally cast as Margaret’s father, Fuchs. But he left after just a day of filming because his wife was ill. Director Holt died with a week of shooting remaining, and filming was completed by producer/director Michael Carreras, son of Hammer co-founder James Carreras. Cushing’s wife also died before the production’s end. Carreras’ work on the film is seamless with the scenes already shot by Holt; it certainly doesn’t look like a movie made by two different directors.

Corbeck's hiding place.

Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb wasn’t the only adaptation of the Stoker novel. The 1970 British telefilm, Curse of the Mummy, actually made it to screens (albeit small) first. Later versions included The Awakening (1980), Mike Newell’s feature film debut, with Charlton Heston, Susannah York and a pre­-Remington Steele Stephanie Zimbalist; Fred Olen Ray’s The Tomb (1986), starring John Carradine, Cameron Mitchell and Sybil Danning; and the 1998 straight-to-video Bram Stoker’s Legend of the Mummy (aka Bram Stoker’s The Mummy) with Louis Gossett, Jr. and featuring Aubrey Morris playing a doctor, much like his character in Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb. Margaret’s boyfriend, played by Mark Edwards, is named Tod Browning after the director of another Stoker adaptation, Universal’s classic 1931 Dracula.



Leon, unfortunately, was not cast in leading roles very often. She also starred in a number of Hammer’s Carry On movies and had appearances in both an official and unofficial Bond film – she was a hotel receptionist in The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) with Roger Moore and one of Bond’s conquests in 1983’s Never Say Never Again with Sean Connery. Villiers starred in a Bond film as well, For Your Eyes Only (1981), as the MI6 Chief of Staff; he and Geoffrey Keen as the Minister of Defence were essentially sharing the role of M, after the script was rewritten due to the death of the original M, Bernard Lee. Villiers, however, did not appear in future 007 outings. Actor Morris specialized in cult films, also cropping up in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange (1971) and Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man (1973).

Alleys: Just as spooky as tombs.

Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb did not receive much notice or acclaim when first released--it was released as a double-bill in support of Roy Ward Baker’s Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde. But it has since gone on to become a cult film. It is definitely one of Hammer’s best – a mummy film so gripping and moody that it didn’t even need the iconic bandage-wrapped figure. Just a tall, radiant, alluring woman. In a coffin.



This post is part of the Hammer Halloween Blogathon hosted by the Classic Film & TV Café. Click here view the complete blogathon schedule.

Walt Disney's The Fighting Prince of Donegal

Walt Disney began making films in Great Britain in the 1950s as a way to use "frozen funds." The studio had amassed strong sales from its products during the 1940s. However, Britain's laws prevented pounds earned there from being fully converted to U.S. dollars. Disney's solution was to spend that money on live-action films such as Treasure Island (1950), The Story of Robin Hood and His Merrie Men (1952), and The Sword and the Rose (1953). These films had the added benefit of costing less and being quicker to produce than Disney's full-length animated movies.

The Disney studio still had a strong presence in Great Britain when it made The Fighting Prince of Donegal in 1966. This fact-based tale traces the exploits of Hugh O'Donnell (Peter McEnery), a 16th century prince intent on uniting the clans of Ireland against Queen Elizabeth. After convincing one of the strongest rival clans to join him, Hugh gets captured by the English and imprisoned in Dublin Castle. He escapes, gets captured, escapes again, and goes on to rally the Irish to a small, but significant victory over the English troops.

McEnery in one of the fighting scenes.

Based on the 1957 novel Red Hugh: Prince of Donegal by Robert T. Reilly, The Fighting Prince of Donegal is a partially accurate depiction of history. The real Hugh O'Donnell was fifteen when he was thrown into prison (while Peter McEnery was 26 when he played the role). O'Donnell did indeed escape from Dublin Castle twice and went on to fight several battles against the English. However, Disney's film ignores the political infighting among the clans and Hugh's later role in the Nine Years' War and his most famous victory at the Battle of Curlew Pass.

As a historical action film, The Fighting Prince of Donegal comes across as solid, but without generating any tangible excitement. Part of the blame goes to its lightweight star Peter McEnery, who first gained film fame as Boy Barrett in 1961's then-controversial Victim. McEnery certainly looks the part of a fighting prince, but he can't project the passion required for the role (especially in a key scene where he must convince the other clans to join him).

The luminous Hampshire.

In contrast, the rest of the cast consists of some of my favorite British performers of that period: Susan Hampshire (The Forsyte Saga, The Pallisers) as McEnery's love interest; Gordon Jackson (Hudson from Upstairs, Downstairs) as the villainous Captain Leeds; Andrew Keir (Professor Quatermass in Quatermass and the Pit) as one of the clan leaders; and Tom Adams (Charles Vine in a pair of spy film capers) and Donal McCann (The Pallisers) as Hugh's mates. Unfortunately, except for Jackson, most of these marvelous performers have little to do.

Still, their presence plus some colorful scenery make The Fighting Prince of Donegal a pleasant way to spend 112 minutes. It's just a shame that Disney missed the opportunity to produce a first-rate historical yarn about a lesser known, but interesting, figure in Irish history.