A Deliriously Infatuated Love Letter to THE MUMMY (1999)

Dearest THE MUMMY (1999):

Oh, how I missed you. It had been too long since I saw your Egyptologist-melting, fortune-hunter-dissolving, scarab-beetle-eating beauty.

I still remember our first time - the Erin Mills Town Centre Cineplex, long since closed down and turned into an Old Navy, on Canada Day, 1999. I'll be honest, I only remember it was July 1 because we had to go to a family event afterward, but it was still special because of you. I don't remember what we ate that day, or what set of directions my family argued about to make conversation (although it probably went something like this: "Who takes the 407? What are you, some sort of a Spanish consortium economic booster?"). No, my memories of that day are all about you - of Brendan Fraser shooting two pistols and makin' with the quips, of Rachel Weisz's stunning eyes and deadpan comic timing, of your stunning effects. It was new, it was beautiful, and it was scary.

Yeah, I'll admit it, you scared me. But I think what we shared that day would make anyone a little scared. You got inside me, THE MUMMY (1999). You changed me. I know this might be a little surprising to you. I know I tried to play it cool, treat you like I treated any other film. Or did you see right through my charade? Did you see how I got a little obsessive, daydreaming about you that whole summer, playing your video game and listening to your score?

Now, I probably should have realized that summer lovin' couldn't last. But I didn't see GREASE for another two years. We were both young, THE MUMMY (1999). Let's not pretend we were smarter than we were. Admittedly, our relationship soured at times. There was that sequel that barely deserved your name, and that time the man who played your titular character turned in the laziest guest spot in ALIAS' notorious history of lazy guest spots. Then there was that sorta-prequel with that guy from THE TOOTH FAIRY and then, of course, the infamous VAN HELSING "break". Oded Fehr did RESIDENT EVIL 2. And then there was that final sequel. I think I lost you, THE MUMMY (1999). I think I lost what I loved about you.

I know it's a cliché, THE MUMMY (1999), but I think those tough times might have just made us stronger. Because when I saw you the other day, I saw you. I mean, really saw you. I saw the obvious green screen work, and the horrifying beginnings of CGI animation. I saw the questionable ethnic stereotypes and the way you basically steal things from much better movies.

And I don't care.

Those aren't ugly green fuzzy halos around your actors' heads: they're love-green-screen-lines. You're not a pale imitation of others: you're full of homages to other classic beauties, and you make it your own. And if someone said that your effects weren't hot, I'd say they're cute.

I hope you can forgive me for ignoring you on my shelf for so long, THE MUMMY (1999). I know I've forgiven you for the six hours of MUMMY-related films I've been forced to sit through, and the considerably longer amount of time it's taken to remove any tainted memories those films have left in my mind about your purity.

So, since no love letter is complete without some bad poetry, I'd like to present you with some lines from one of our great poets, who can truly express my feelings. Hear Cassie's words, THE MUMMY (1999), and try to ignore the strip-club favourite undertones:

It's me and you, now

I've been waiting

Think I wanna make that move, now

Baby, tell me if you like it.

It's me and you, now

I've been waiting.

Death Is Only The Beginning,

Brandon