Lee Cronin’s ascent to the helm of a major studio horror production seemed a logical progression after the lean, blood-soaked efficiency of 2023’s *Evil Dead Rise*. Yet, in his latest effort, *Lee Cronin’s The Mummy*, the director struggles to scale his signature intensity to a broader canvas. What remains is a film that attempts to graft hardcore gore and elaborate practical effects onto a narrative framework that fails to sustain its own weight, resulting in an experience that feels both overstuffed and curiously hollow.
The film centers on the Cannon family, led by Charlie (Jack Reynor), a reporter stationed in Egypt, and his wife Larissa (Laia Costa). When their daughter Katie vanishes into a sudden sandstorm, the family unit—a recurring obsession in Cronin’s work—is fractured. The story resumes eight years later when Katie reappears inside a mysterious sarcophagus. However, the emotional resonance of this reunion is buried under a script that defies internal logic, trading the claustrophobic tension of Cronin’s earlier work for a flabby, unwieldy structure.
Ultimately, the titular mummies serve as little more than an inconvenient plot device rather than a source of genuine dread. By diluting his focus on family dynamics within a cluttered blockbuster format, Cronin loses the precision that once defined his craft. The film serves as a cautionary tale of the "big house" transition, where the desire for scale often comes at the expense of narrative coherence and atmospheric control.
With reporting from *Little White Lies*.
Source · Little White Lies
