Sunday Newscape Magazine

It’s rare that I walk out of a movie. With the outrageous price of tickets, I will usually sit through anything…once. I mean, everyone raved about “Horton Hears a Who.” Personally, I liked the book better, but isn’t that always the case? Last night I went to see “The Mummy Returns” or whatever the heck the piece of crap was named. I thought I was going to die.

When the movie first began, I kind of groaned…predictable plot. I hate when I know what is going to happen in a movie. Not just the main plot but how the whole story line will play out. But previous Mummy Movies have proven to be action-packed, edge-of-the seat, humorous shows.

Unfortunately, it was not to be the case. I knew the movie was doomed when the acting began. The acting killed me. I wish I could think of a clever way to describe it, but it was just bad, and when something is as bad as the acting in that movie, it leaves me very little to work with.

Alex, played by Luke Ford, sounded as if he had just received the script the day before. It was like watching a grown man struggle to read aloud. I was in physical pain watching him act. I actually cringed once. Yes, cringed.

And what happened to Rachel Weisz, the original lead female in the previous two Mummy Movies? Oh, I know, she said, “No way in hell am I getting anywhere near that piece of garbage.” The “new” wife, actress Maria Bello, was kind of a spaz. I can’t think of any other way to describe her. She was way too excited and not at all believable.

Brendan Frasier did okay, but the poor acting quality of his colleagues rubbed off on him, unfortunately.

The plot slayed me…seriously. Mean evil dude, kills own people, dies of a curse. Some dumb idiot brings mean evil dude back to life because that is always the wisest thing to do. First chance I ever get, I’m bringing someone back to life because that always plays out well. So predictable.

Now, let us fast forward to the brrrrrrr…Himalayan Mountain scene where no one was properly dressed. When will Hollywood realize that every little detail, like size, does matter? Here is a group of people in a freezing mountain climate, dressed in ski jackets. Hmmm...

Now, maybe I could have lived with ski jackets in 40 below weather. Maybe. What honestly stunned me were the abominable snow men called Yeti. When these, what can only be described as a mix between a giant house cat and big foot, jumped out, I almost fell out of my seat laughing. Are you kidding me???

But the clincher to all of this? What made me finally get up and leave? That would be Brendan Frasier laid out on a stretcher, being carried by two of the cat-like snowmen. I am still laughing at the image.

At this point, my date said to me, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

”What are you thinking?” I asked. I mean, I was thinking the movie was awful, but what if he really liked it? What if he were about to say, “I’m thinking these cat-snowmen are the coolest.” I didn’t want to be rude. He did pay after all.

Fortunately, he said, “That this is a horrible movie.”

Thank you God! One other intelligent person in the theater besides me.

”YES! This movie is awful. Can we go please?”

Okay, I didn’t say that. I said it was a bad movie, but we could stay. He suggested that we leave, and I readily agreed. So I guess I technically never finished watching The Mummy: Tomb of the blah blah blah.

But in all fairness I had to get out of there. What if the cat-snowmen suddenly started operating on Brendan Frasier and actually saved his life? Then the movie would have continued (which I think it did), and I would have been forced to stay. And I would have disrupted movie goers with my raucous laughter at the unbelievable.

Aren’t I supposed to actually have watched the whole movie before I write a review? Well sure, if you want to watch me stab my eyes out repeatedly from the horror of it all. That’s what this movie should have been - a horror flick. Because it was so horrible.