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A shambling, putrescent mess best left undiscovered (I'm talking about the film, not the mummy!).
The Legend of the Mummy is so bad, I would rather have my brain removed through my nose and my innards scooped out and placed in jars than watch it again. A turgid, muddled and totally inept movie, this lame horror stumbles awkwardly from one awful scene to another even slower than its titular creature.
Based on the Bram Stoker novel about the resurrection of a 7-fingered Egyptian queen (which was made into the almost as awful Blood from the Mummy's Tomb by Hammer in 1971), this film is poorly scripted, acted, directed and edited and the result is totally confusing and lacking in any suspense or shocks whatsoever.
Pretty Amy Locane (from John Water's Cry-Baby) plays Margaret Trelawny, the heroine of the tale whose father is attacked by a mysterious assailant whilst examining an old artifact from the cursed tomb of Queen Tera. Margaret's boyfriend Robert Wyatt (a totally bland Eric Lutes) tries to solve the mystery, along with dodgy treasure hunter Corbeck (Louis Gossett Jr., who still sounds and acts like the Drac he played in Enemy Mine) and ex-copper Daw (Mark Lindsay Chapman).
The film boasts bargain basement effects and features a barely seen (and probably for good reason) manky mummy. Enlivening proceedings (but only slightly) are some gratuitous sex scenes: sexy maid Lily (Laura Otis) imagines herself having sex in a bath, pudgy museum curator Brice Renard (Richard Karn) inexplicably beds a massive-jugged blonde hottie, and Margaret does a brief full-frontal flash towards the end (although this is more than likely a body double for Amy Locane).
When rating a horror film, I always take into consideration any inclusion of unnecessary scenes of quality female nudity (there's always room for some nekkid flesh); thus The Legend of the Mummy saves itself from the shame of receiving the lowest possible score by the (wrinkled) skin of its (decayed) teeth!
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