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“What could possibly happen here? This is the twentieth century. This is ... Nevada.” A boneheaded archaeologist goes and gets himself cursed thanks to his obsession with a well-preserved (and beautiful) Egyptian princess he’s managed to get his hands on. After tempting fate and ignoring a very specific warning, he transforms into an adorable werejackal when the moon is full. Princess Akana rises from her nearly 5,000-year slumber and begins getting all close and comfortable with David (said cursed bonehead). Things go from shitty to shit-storm when the goofy looking mummy found along with the princess rises as well. The Vegas strip is terrorized and no camera-mugging wino is safe! A mustachioed John Carradine shows up as a professor who knows the score and there’s an exposition-filled flashback involving a bunch of non-actors running around the Nevada desert in costumes. It’s wonderfully stupid all the way up till its climatic monster showdown. Line delivery somewhere beyond head trauma, a hypnotic ring and a lulling lounge-jazz score add to the oddball charm. It’s bottom-of-the-barrel cinema but this barrel happens to be filled to the brim with rainbows and whiskey.
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