Tonight’s viewing  –

The Mummy’s Tomb

Lon Chaney Jr. takes over as the mummy,

though you’d barely know it under all those wrappings – his main job is to lumber menacingly and strangle folks in darkened rooms. He does it well enough. The pace is unhurried, dreamlike, and at times a little sleepy, like watching old ghosts go through the motions.

What works: the atmosphere. Candlelit rooms, winds howling outside, shadows long as memory. The sense that the ancient world has reached across oceans and decades to grab small-town America by the throat. Also, Dick Foran shows up again, a nice through-line from the previous movie.

What doesn’t: the script doesn’t give much new. More a retread than a resurrection. By the time torches come out and the villagers chase the poor bandaged guy, you can almost hear the studio thinking, “good enough, next reel.”

Still, it has its charms. If you like your horror in black-and-white shades of fog and superstition, with a monster who never hurries but always arrives, it scratches the itch. A B-movie midnight snack.

My ★★★ review of The Mummy’s Tomb on Letterboxd https://boxd.it/bbAhLn

Captain Clegg

No dripping fangs or stitched corpses here the menace comes in the form of “marsh phantoms,” skeletal riders galloping through the mist. They glow, howl, and vanish across the marshes like Halloween lanterns on horseback. Perfect imagery for a cold night when the house creaks.

The real tension though is human – secret identities, contraband, and villagers bound together by fear and loyalty. It’s as much cloak-and-dagger as cape-and-coffin. The phantoms, revealed as clever tricks, still work like a charm – illusions that give shape to the unease we already feel.

Cushing commands the screen, equal parts warmth and quiet menace. He’s the reason to watch. Hammer fills the rest with mood: tavern whispers, gallows threats, and that windswept marsh that feels like it could swallow whole caravans.

Not horror in the creature-feature sense, but it lingers. A folk tale about masks, justice, and what people will do to keep their world from being unmasked. A candlelit yarn, told in thunder and fog.

My ★★★ review of Captain Clegg on Letterboxd https://boxd.it/bbAudt

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Little skunk has come round again, padding soft through the damp dark. The camera picked him up tonight, and you can hear him – sniffling, clicking, a tiny percussion of curious noises as he moves along. Almost conversational, like he’s talking to the ground, or humming a tune meant only for his nose. He seems healthy, fur glossy, tail full, carrying himself with the careful confidence of someone who knows every corner is already mapped in scent.

I find myself leaning in closer, not to see but to listen. That soft clicking is oddly comforting, a heartbeat in miniature, stitched to the night. A reminder that even the smallest creatures carry music with them. Out there, under a low sky, rain still beading on leaves, he’s making his own kind of company.

The house is quiet, but not lonely – there’s little skunk, keeping time just outside the edge of the light.

#roanokeva #backyardzoo #skunk

Two skunks in the back yard tonight, not just passing through this time, but pausing to play a little. Black and white shadows in the grass, rolling and darting, pausing, then darting again. A tiny comedy act under the stars, tails high but not in warning – just balance, just joy.

A little distant from the camera but I am delighted nonetheless. They circled each other, a soft shuffle in the dark, like kids inventing games only they understand. Then, as quickly as they appeared, they slipped off toward the brush at the edge of the yard, leaving the grass swaying in their wake.

A reminder: even night wanderers carry lightness.

#roanokeva #backyardzoo #skunk