Episode 187 - Hammer Britannia 022 - The Curse Of The Mummy's Tomb (1964)

"He's living in the past! This is 1900, you have to think modern."

Dust off your fez and grab your torch! If you're in the mood for a splendidly spooky adventure that oozes 1960s charm, look no further than Hammer's 1964 classic, The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb. This film is a pure, unadulterated slice of gothic fun, a wonderful reminder of a time when movie monsters were tragic, heroes were dashing, and curses were, well, very literal.

The story kicks off in the grand tradition: a team of intrepid (and slightly reckless) archaeologists unearths the tomb of the Egyptian prince Ra-Antef. Despite the usual ominous warnings etched on the walls, they crate up their findings and ship them off to London, guided by the bombastic American showman, Adam Beauchamp (played with wonderful gusto by Fred Clark). Beauchamp's plan? A sensational, profit-making roadshow! Of course, the mummy has other ideas. It's not long before the ancient guardian is re-animated and stalking the foggy streets of London, exacting a methodical and wonderfully theatrical revenge on his desecrators.

What makes this movie such a joy isn't bone-chilling terror, but its incredible atmosphere and earnestness. It's a film that fully commits to its premise. The sets are a colorful delight, from the treasure-filled tomb to the lavishly decorated London drawing rooms that are about to be rudely interrupted by a 4,000-year-old party crasher. The mummy itself, when finally revealed in its full, bandaged glory, is a fantastic piece of classic monster design.

The cast is clearly having a wonderful time. Terence Morgan is the perfect, square-jawed hero, while Ronald Howard provides the necessary archaeological gravitas. But it's Fred Clark's performance as the quintessential "Ugly American" promoter that steals the show, chewing scenery with an infectious energy.

The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb is the perfect cinematic comfort food. It's a fast-paced, colourful, and thrilling adventure that never takes itself too seriously. It doesn't aim to haunt your nightmares; it aims to entertain you for 80 minutes with a ripping good yarn.

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Thanks for listening

Scott and Steven

Episode 186 - Campbell's Kingdom (1957)

"Rugged Wildcatters...Fighting The Treacherous Might Of The Canadian Rockies"

Grab your parka and get ready for a trip to the Canadian Rockies, because 1957's Campbell's Kingdom is a gloriously old-school adventure that absolutely bursts with high-stakes drama and breathtaking scenery. If you're in the mood for a classic "ripping yarn," this is the film for you. It's a story of grit, oil, and one man's incredible race against time, all set against one of the most stunning backdrops ever captured on film.

At the heart of the story is the wonderfully charismatic Dirk Bogarde as Bruce Campbell. Given a grim health diagnosis, Bruce inherits a patch of land in Alberta known as "Campbell's Kingdom." He's told it's worthless, but his grandfather died believing there was oil under that rocky soil. With nothing left to lose, Bruce sinks his last penny and every ounce of his failing strength into proving him right.

This is where the fun really starts. The film is a fantastic story of the underdog. Bruce is a man with a dream, facing down a world of naysayers. This includes the slick, menacing villain Owen (played with wonderful steel by Stanley Baker) and a looming deadline from a hydro-electric company threatening to flood the entire valley.

But Campbell's Kingdom isn't just a character drama; it's a grand spectacle! Director Ralph Thomas makes the Canadian Rockies a character in their own right. The Vistavision and Technicolor cinematography is simply spectacular, with sweeping vistas of snow-capped mountains, turquoise lakes, and rugged forests that will have you longing for the great outdoors.

The action builds to a truly thrilling climax. As Bruce and his small, loyal crew drill desperately for their "black gold," the tension mounts. Will they strike it rich before the dam floods them out? Will Owen's schemes succeed? The final sequences are pure, high-adventure magic, delivering a payoff that is both exciting and deeply satisfying.

Sure, it's a film of its time, with earnest heroes and clear-cut villains, but that's precisely its charm. Campbell's Kingdom is a wonderfully made, optimistic, and thrilling piece of classic British cinema. It's a feel-good movie about betting it all on a dream, and it leaves you with a real sense of exhilaration.

This and previous episodes can be found everywhere you download your podcasts

Bonus content available at: patreon.com/ReelBritanniaPodcast

Follow us on Twitter @rbritanniapod

Thanks for listening

Scott and Steven

Episode 185 - Miranda (1948)

"You've hated me ever since I set tail in this house."

In the canon of post-war British comedy, there are grand spectacles and quiet character studies. And then, every so often, there's a film so completely, cheerfully absurd that it defies category. Miranda (1948) is one such treasure, a fantasy-comedy that is as polished and witty as it is delightfully naughty. It's a film that asks what would happen if a classic British "comedy of manners" was suddenly interrupted by a mermaid—and the answer, it turns in, is pure, bubbly entertainment.

The story itself is a wonderfully silly concoction. Dr. Paul Martin (Griffith Jones), escaping his wife for a solo fishing holiday in Cornwall, gets more than he bargained for. He doesn't just catch a fish; he is caught by Miranda, a flirtatious, man-crazy mermaid who promptly holds him captive in her aquatic cave. His ransom? A trip to see London.

What follows is a brilliant farce. Paul passes off the beautiful Miranda as an "invalid patient," concealing her tail under long dresses and wheeling her around his sophisticated London home. This is where the film truly shines, thanks to the absolutely enchanting central performance from Glynis Johns. Long before she was Mrs. Banks in Mary Poppins, Johns established her star power here. With a coy, kittenish voice and eyes that perpetually sparkle with mischief, her Miranda is a sublime creation. She's no innocent nymph; she's a charming siren who has every man in the house—from her "doctor" to the lovestruck chauffeur (a wonderful David Tomlinson)—wrapped around her little finger, or fin.

While Glynis Johns is the undeniable heart of the film, she is bolstered by one of the finest supporting casts in British comedy. Googie Withers is perfectly cast as Paul's increasingly bewildered and suspicious wife, Clare. But it is the magnificent, eccentric Margaret Rutherford who threatens to steal the entire picture as Nurse Carey. Hired to look after the "patient," she is not shocked to discover Miranda's secret but openly delighted, exclaiming, "It's a mermaid! I've always believed in them!"

The film is packed with witty dialogue and brilliant sight gags that never get old: Miranda's insistence on eating raw fish sandwiches, her casual snacking from the goldfish bowl, and a priceless scene at the zoo where she communicates with the seals. It's all so unapologetically fun, a droll and airy fantasy that was a smash hit with audiences at the time, and it's easy to see why. Miranda is a whimsical, charming, and thoroughly amusing escape that still feels as fresh and sparkling as the day it first splashed onto the screen.

This and previous episodes can be found everywhere you download your podcasts

Bonus content available at: patreon.com/ReelBritanniaPodcast

Follow us on Twitter @rbritanniapod

Thanks for listening

Scott and Steven