What struck me about it is that I only saw it once, and it would have been the year it came out, in 1955. I would have been eight years old, which is why I recall (1) seeing it with my older sister and (2) that I could not, for the life of me, figure out the plot. I do know that, as an eight-year-old male, I thought it was way cool that the slaves all had their tongues cut out so they couldn't reveal the secrets, and that all those stone blocks cut off all hope of escape at the end. And even at eight years of age I could appreciate Ms Collins' futile struggle when she tried to push back one of the stones that entrapped her in the heart of the pyramid. Yummy.
But I was also something of an embryo engineer--little did I know that I'd have to learn about the flow characteristics of dry sand for my doctoral dissertation some forty years later--and I liked the sand and the clay pots. I wondered for years how they would have joined those pots to the stone blocks, or drilled holes in the blocks, and all the other technical details that the writers must have wondered about themselves.
And then there was that final speech, where the guy yells at poor Joan. I mean, here she's gonna be trapped with these guys forever, and he wants her to consider the wages of her evil plot, whatever it was. It seemed unnecessary, under the circumstances, though I went to a school system where it wouldn't have been out of place: they were always yelling at us for something.
I think I was reading a book about ancient engineering not that many years ago when I came to a section where they discussed the inner structure of the Great Pyramid. And for a moment I wondered if they'd found the skeletons of the Queen and all those guys, including the ones without tongues.