FILM OF THE WEEK: Lee Cronin's The Mummy - Reviewed by Roe McDermott

Are you someone who loves intense body horror that makes you squirm in your seat? Do you like to watch movies through your fingers, and possibly feel a bit nauseated? Get in the car, we’re going to Lee Cronin’s The Mummy.

Lee Cronin, earning a possessory credit on his new horror release, came to prominence with 2019’s fantastic The Hole In The Ground, the story of a young mother who begins to suspect that her son’s increasingly disturbing behaviour may be linked to supernatural forces. A small, intimate horror starring Seána Kerslake, it excelled at using the natural word to create an eerie and ominous atmosphere while exploring the terrifying prospect that the child you love has been replaced by a darker, nefarious entity. A film that made me stock up on birth control, it was the combination of evocative lore, tension building, and emotional depth that created a truly intelligent horror film.

After exploring zombies and more gore-forward action in Evil Dead Rise, the Dubliner returns to the theme of fractured families and a child, unrecognisably altered, innocence obliterated, parents troubled. In The Mummy (no relation to the Peak Hotness/Bisexual Awakening Brendan Fraser classic), the young daughter of journalist Charlie Cronan (Jack Reynor) disappears into the desert without a trace. Eight years later, the broken family is shocked when Katie is returned to them – or is she? The girl that returns is physically and psychically scarred, and as the family – including her two siblings – try to welcome her home, her behaviour ramps up in violent, sinister, and blood-curdling ways.

The first act establishes the family’s normal rhythm, before the tragedy; Katie’s disappearance and investigation followed by the emotional fallout on her family over eight years; her re-appearance; and her parents’ response to the reunion which, it’s fair to say, is not exactly what they had been hoping for. It’s a lot to cover, and feels quite choppy, despite effective efforts to highlight Charlie’s dashed ambitions, mother Larissa’s (Laia Costa) deep despair, and the warmth and sass of Larissa’s mother Carmen (Verónica Falcón), who jokes and teases siblings Seb and Maud.

But the second act is where Cronin really comes into his own. The escalating, disgustingly tactile, deeply visceral body horror includes bile spewing, blood pouring, skin peeling, teeth breaking, flesh biting, head banging and several different types of stabbings, impaling and puncturings. Accompanied by a soundscape that emphasises the wince-inducing banging of chattering teeth, the viscous peel of skin being peeled from flesh, and the squelch of internal organs being grabbed, and the result at the Dublin premiere was a cinema full of groans, cringes, gasps, laughs, and the man sitting next to me constantly jumping and hiding his face in that unique emotional state of utter disgust blended with unadulterated glee. Fans of body horror will be in sick, twisted heaven.

The nature of the scares, supernatural elements and gore does at times feel derivative. While Cronin gives an interesting reinterpretation of the motivations for mummification, Katie’s story is essentially a possession tale, and much of her jerky movements, powers, and the violence she both endures and inflicts mimic The Exorcist.

Cronin’s skill lies in tactile horror. He understands how to build a sensory experience that gets under the skin, that makes audiences recoil and lean in at the same time, and that instinct for the physical, the grotesque and the immersive is what makes The Mummy such an effective cinematic ride.

And yet, it is also where the limits of the film become most visible. Because while Cronin proves himself once again to be a director of extraordinary technical control and visceral imagination, the emotional and thematic threads struggle to carry the same weight as the spectacle. The film is at its most confident when it is making you flinch, and at its least assured when it asks you to feel.

The Mummy confirms Cronin as someone with a clear authorial voice and a rare command of tone and texture. But it also suggests that his greatest work may still lie ahead, in a film where that extraordinary sensory skill is matched, moment for moment, by emotional depth and narrative precision. The Mummy may not fully balance those elements, but it is compelling, queasy proof that Cronin is a force to be reckoned with.