Universal Monsters: The Mummy #1 sure was disarming. Like a bandaged ghoul reaching from the dark, writer-artist Faith Erin Hicks surprised us with a frankly Disney-fied reason of The Mummy. But it truly worked, and the more colorful, deeply human approach to this classic horror tale made it feel truly alive and geared for a new, more specific audience.
Issue #2, then, is another chance for this story to spread its wings as the story further unfolds. (Mummies have wings, right?)
Variant cover by Guillem March. Courtesy of Image/Skybound.
In issue #1 of The Mummy, we met Helen, the half-Egyptian daughter of a British archaeologist/explorer. After seeing Helen’s early life play out across the debut, this second issue focuses on her as a young adult in 1930s Thebes. Looking just enough like a Disney princess, that sentiment is played out further as Helen has forged a kind of friendship with the disembodied voice in her head. Add in the continually charming and playful visual style from Hicks, and it feels like a gritty reboot of your favorite childhood animated flick. (It’s perhaps like Little Mermaid except instead of a flounder it’s an ambivalent spirit connected to ancient Egyptian royalty.)
And, without being too redundant, it’s a decision that also really works — Hicks gives us something warm and familiar but also moves it in a direction that honors the tone and scope of The Mummy in the larger cultural pantheon. The end result is that we’re building the story (who is the voice, and how does it connect Helen to the ancient sorcerer/authority figure Imhotep?) but in a way that’s heaps more engaging, inventive, and even socially resonant.
Variant cover by Ryan Sook. Courtesy of Image/Skybound.
Because more than just teasing out the true role of Helen in this grandiose story of The Mummy, Hicks has made some important thematic choices. Given her lineage, and that she hosts said ancient spirit, Helen is clearly someone who occupies two worlds but who doesn’t really feel at home in either. So she’s meant to be an outcast of sorts, acting as a guide to how we engage with “outsiders” and even the role in which women seem to occupy as the totems for male feelings. (Helen is very much painted as this slightly cliched, eternally single girl, and it’s a trope that’s laid out with maximum effectiveness.) Her place both of and not of her own world is interesting — it makes her the perfect vehicle for us to see how women like this are relegated to the role of wife and just how much we desperately hope she can escape a cycle started years before her birth.
There is some “hope” of sorts as Helen meets a young explorer, Frank, and the two bond over being strange and weird. It’s less about a man saving a woman with love/marriage, but another shot of Disney-esque humanity about two misfits finding each other. It gives texture and nuance within the overarching storyline, and I’m already engaged deeply to see if Helen-Frank have a genuine chance to connect amid this story of destiny, obligation, and society’s tendency to prematurely box people.
At the same time as this issue has turned up the Disney vibes, we can’t forget it’s a horror story, and so Hicks (alongside colorist Lee Loughridge and letterer Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou) also amplify the cartoon violence. We get our first bit of bloodshed from a murdered security guard, and we get just enough to remind us of the real stakes of this book without overpowering that joy and charm that makes it so appealing. If anything, Hicks shows that she can use light and shadow to really play with mood and create some sense of tension that, again, feels really engaged with this story’s unique identity and goals.
Variant cover by Michael Walsh. Courtesy of Image/Skybound.
The aforementioned Imhotep, for instance, is portrayed as a kind of old Hollywood ghoul — all bold line work — and that aesthetic links The Mummy to an old-school cinematic tradition where less is more and the horror comes from the emotion and positioning. Anything that is a little more dark and harrowing in this issue never once feels sudden or overwhelming. Instead, we get the sense that Hicks is slowly unwrapping The Mummy in a way so we get the deep humanity of it all and the resulting reveals and spikes of terror are to sugar and not dominate our experience. It moves this book along in a way that feels subtle and gives us layers to move through more deliberately.
And speaking of moving through this story, there’s really only one aspect of this second chapter I didn’t like: the ending. Mild-ish spoilers, but here Helen learns who the voice is (an ancient princess) and Imhotep is her ancient love and the man exuding influence on the otherwise free-spirited girl. But the all-important Helen-Imhotep first meeting just feels a little…flat. There’s none of the heft and tension you’d expect, and the two just sort of stare at one another without nearly enough weight or anxiety in the air. I get it’s meant to be their introduction, but it just feels so underwhelming that it strips power from Helen, and that’s the worst thing to do if we’re telling this specific story. It also feels like it wastes a little of The Mummy’s limited four-issue run, and it’s a real problem after Frank’s introduction was handled so dang perfectly.
Variant cover by Stjepan Šejić. Courtesy of Image/Skybound.
All of that together isn’t necessarily a massive concern for The Mummy, but it doesn’t make me wonder if Hicks can really commit now that it’s time to “pivot.” And by that I mean, can we keep that Disney-ian core and still move into increasingly bloody, weird, and unsettling territory? Is Helen going to just fall prey to the lure of Imhotep, or can we get a struggle that’s more nuanced and textured? Right now, the latter seems more than possible, but the ending of #2 being so flat left me think, even oh so briefly, that The Mummy’s early start could be all sparkle when I know it has the legs to properly trudge onward.
Ending aside, though, The Mummy #2 really was a great continuation. It gave us monsters to turn and run from; a love interest to add to the book’s emotional core; just enough blood and guts to excite without bashing us over the head; and more subtext that feels important to telling a meaningful story about gender and social norms.
I have every confidence that The Mummy #3 will give us more of the same, and that this book can continue to tell a vital new version of a familiar tale with gusto, passion, and intellectual intent. If not, it won’t be just The Mummy with his limbs a flailin’ in pure rage.
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