When a middle-aged man named Babe appeared, purchased a hula doll at a street market, and named it Poopsie, there could be no doubt that The Mummy's Hand would bear little resemblance to its predecessor. In actuality, this movie is neither a sequel nor a remake. It is instead a completely new film which just happens to revolve around mummies and ancient Egypt.
Once again, our mummy has been embroiled in forbidden love. Once again, his tomb is disturbed. But this time, it's disturbed by two fun-loving archaeologists and their gullible financial backer, a travelling magician. And of course, the magician's daughter, filling the vital role of screaming, fainting female protagonist.
The mummy, Kharis, is being kept alive through the centuries by generations of Egyptian priests who are ready and willing, through the magic of tana leaves, to revive him at any moment should the tomb of his beloved be violated. Alas, good help is hard to find. And the current guardian's selfishness becomes his downfall.
The Mummy's Hand is an entertaining film. Once you know what to expect. And provided your expectations lean closer to Abbott & Costello than Boris Karloff.
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