Kursus Film Mumi Baru Mengoreksi Banyak Tropis Orientalis Genre, Tetapi Masih Ada Pekerjaan yang Harus Dilakukan

Since 1932's The Mummy, there have been at least 15 films grappling with an Ancient Egyptian corpse wreaking havoc. Boris Karloff's original iteration remains the most iconic image, but Hammer Films' The Mummy series (1959-1971) and the blockbuster franchise led by Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz starting in 1999 have made it a cinematic staple of horror and adventure.

Yet as much as these films are beloved to varying degrees, the Orientalist tropes within their narratives leave a lot to be desired: North Africa is represented through a Western colonial lens, where Egypt is used as a mystical, exotic backdrop to centre white adventurers and too often malign Arab characters. These Mummy films also happen to be almost entirely devoid of Egyptian or Arab actors, with characters either whitewashed or portrayed by non-Arab actors – here's looking at you, Scorpion King!

Now, Lee Cronin's The Mummy has arrived and, to the filmmaker’s credit, he does course-correct the problematic casting of days past. May Calamawy (Egyptian-Palestinian), May Elghety (Egyptian) and Hayat Kamille (Iraqi) appear significantly in the supporting cast while other Arab actors, such as Husam Chadat (Syrian), Omar El-Saeidi (Egyptian) and Gerald Papasian (Egyptian) play smaller roles.

There are also several scenes where these characters speak in Arabic. "[It took] a lot of learning to direct in a language you don't speak, and then getting into post-production in that language and really understanding – it's an education!" Cronin told IGN. "The Egyptian side and that authenticity really mattered to me.”

Yet as much as the ensemble cast boasts Arab representation this time around, Egypt is still presented as a somewhat archaic and dingy place to live. The rural Khalil family, led by Kamille's matriarch, wear dated clothes and drive a banged-up car. Exterior shots of Cairo forget to show the modernity of the city; instead, it's depicted more as a dusty old town where residents appear in traditional Muslim garb. Those people and places do exist in the city, but contemporary life has far more diversity of attire and culture.

It's through Calamawy's police detective Dalia that the modern Arab woman is represented. She wears suit jackets, shirts and trousers, while the police station is filled with computers. Still, it's shot in such gloomy light that it only looks dank and outdated. Dalia is also introduced as a rookie wearing a hijab, yet eight years later, she no longer wears it. It is not compulsory by law for women to wear coverings in Egypt, nor in government positions, so what was the choice behind dispensing with it? Cronin fails to provide an answer, nor does he give Dalia any backstory that might deepen her motivation for trying so hard to solve the film’s central mystery involving the disappearance and reappearance of a child named Katy.

Full spoilers for Lee Cronin's The Mummy follow!

Two Egyptian archaeologists are introduced in one scene, but they are never utilised as educators on the history of the film’s ancient threat. Instead, the responsibility is given to a white Australian professor back in the US. He explains that the demon is called the Nasmaranian, a 3000-year-old entity said to be a destroyer of families and communities. A mystical ritual of mummification was first performed by an ancient Egyptian group to trap it in a human body. We learn that the Khalil family's legacy is to guard the Nasmaranian, switching the old body for a new one when the magical bindings lose power. Yet there is nothing particularly Egyptian about this supernatural antagonist. It has no basis in the country's mythology or history and serves simply as a generic fictional demon with mummification and sandstorms used as window dressing. Previous Mummy films might suffer from Orientalism, but at least they drew from real Egyptian history.

And the fact remains, the framing of this story still centres on a white Western family. The Cannons have only lived in Cairo for five months as the father, Charlie, completes his temporary transfer for a news outlet. They have no substantial ties to the region, only existing as outsiders who are targeted by the Khalil family. The matriarch is not given a name, just referred to as "Mama" or "the Magician," but it's revealed she has been using her young daughter, Layla, to secretly groom the Cannon's eldest daughter, Katy. The Magician steals her away and performs the harrowing ritual of mummification. But by stealing and harming a white child, it perpetuates the trope of Arabs being threatening or dangerous, and Arab countries as unsafe places to visit.

This negative portrayal is somewhat tempered by the motivations of the Magician and her daughter. Elghety's older Layla aids Calamawy's police detective by giving her vital information about both the ritual and their family's oath to prevent this ancient evil from escaping. The sacrificing of a human life is something they know is morally wrong, and the Magician does ask for Katy's forgiveness before she steals her. But she chooses a child when any human body would do, making her act that more evil.

Yet as much as the film understands the complexities of the Khalil family's burden, Cronin still ends the film by punishing the Magician. Earlier in the film, she is shot by Dalia and presumed dead, but it is later revealed that she is holed up in a prison. This is when Dalia, Charlie's wife Larissa, and Charlie arrive. He had already sacrificed himself for Katy to become the vessel to hold the Nasmaranian, and that was an emotionally potent conclusion. But by carrying on, and allowing the Cannons to exact revenge by passing the demon onto the Magician with the help of the "good Arab" Dalia, the nuance of this antagonist and the goodwill of that fatherly sacrifice is undone.

Lee Cronin's The Mummy might not be the most Orientalist offering in this sub-genre of horror, but, unfortunately, it's yet another Hollywood film made by white Western filmmakers that fails to do justice to the Egyptian landscape, people and culture it borrows from.