Stylish thriller from the inventive pen of Christopher Wicking, who also wrote the schizo-horror 'Demons of the Mind' for Hammer, and the rubato Price/Lee/Cushing updating of the Frankenstein story, 'Scream and Scream Again'.
Wicking's forte seems to be taking traditional themes and stereotypes and subverting them, seemingly superficially, but with an interesting, insidious edge.
Here for example, we have a mummy movie without a mummy (in the accepted sense), but everything else besides: desecration, curses, sacred scrolls, reincarnation, possession, revenge; all the requisite ingredients are active and abundant. All we're lacking is a dim, 7 foot galoot looking like he's just escaped from the nearest NHS burns unit..
It's no loss, in fact it's not that much of a departure. Karloff was only briefly bandaged in the 30's version (still the best by a yard) and 'BFTMT' does buck its own trend with a fine, almost conciliatory ending.
Meanwhile, the bulk of 'BFTMT' is very good. Valerie Leon is excellent (though strangely sexless...me?) in the dual role of Margaret - daughter of grumpy Egyptologist Julian Fuchs; and Tera - the mystical hieroglyph harpy who possesses her and lands her with a throbbing 3,000 year old itch to rule the world.
Tera is a ruthless force of nature. Aided by plummy James Villiers as the dastardly Corbeck, an ex-colleague of Margaret's father, she cuts a bloody swathe through the game, but unfortunate, Brit character actors lined up in front of her like resignedly doomed dogs on a Korean market.
And the murder scenes are brilliantly executed: one in an asylum, another in a refreshingly different dark alley and finally at a frenzied medium's parlour. Each victim's throat ripped out by the spirits of Tera's 'familiars' -which Margaret needs to collect for her resurrection ceremony.
The plot is typical Wicking; convoluted but engaging. Based on a story by Bram Stoker, it's given lustre and intelligence well beyond the staid Victoriana of its source and carries fabulous threat and malevolence as it goes about it's beastly business.
The music by Tristam Carey is some of the best I've heard in a genre movie (the owl-eared among you will notice it's the same score as the later sexploitation cruelty-riot 'Ilsa-Haremkeeper of the Oil Sheiks'. Hammer selling the score for use in that shameful breast-fest cheapens it somewhat, but it's still superb). It lilts and floats then delivers a satisfying sting, particularly in the flash-back sequences where it firmly establishes its epic theme and is genuinely, slyly eerie.
Director Seth Holt died (of hiccups!) during shooting, so Michael Carreras finished the film, but it's all pretty seamless, and drips mood and elan from every frame.
Not without flaws, but a lively, colourful, cliché-less chiller from a reliably blood-drenched source.
4 ½ stars.