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In this episode of The Introverted Obelisk, Obie Knox journeys back to 1932 to explore one of the films that helped define classic horror: The Mummy. Long before shambling bandaged monsters became Halloween staples, Universal introduced audiences to a far more unsettling vision of the undead—an ancient Egyptian priest whose greatest weapon isn't brute strength, but patience.

The story begins when an archaeological expedition uncovers the tomb of Imhotep, an ancient priest buried alive for committing the ultimate sacrilege. Alongside the tomb lies the legendary Scroll of Thoth, complete with the sort of warning that sensible people would probably treat as a reason to stop reading. Naturally, someone ignores it, and centuries of careful planning come unraveled in a matter of moments as Imhotep returns to the world of the living.

Years later, the resurrected priest walks among modern society disguised as the mysterious Ardath Bey, quietly searching for the reincarnation of his long-lost love, Princess Anck-es-en-Amon. As his supernatural powers grow, those who uncovered his secret find themselves drawn into a deadly struggle against an evil that has had thousands of years to perfect its revenge.

Unlike many of Universal's other monsters, The Mummy relies less on spectacle and more on atmosphere, building its horror through mystery, obsession, and the unsettling idea that the past is never truly buried. The episode explores how Boris Karloff transformed Imhotep into one of horror's most memorable villains, the film's lasting influence on the genre, and the production decisions that helped create one of Universal's most enduring classics.

Filled with ancient curses, forbidden knowledge, and the timeless lesson that some scrolls are best left unread, The Mummy remains a cornerstone of classic horror. Nearly a century later, its haunting atmosphere and unforgettable performance continue to prove that sometimes the oldest monsters are still the most fascinating.

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In this episode of The Introverted Obelisk, Obie Knox travels to 17th-century Moldavia for Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960), a gorgeous Gothic nightmare that begins with one of the more memorable executions in horror history. Barbara Steele stars as Princess Asa Vajda, a witch condemned to death by her own brother and fitted with a particularly unpleasant spiked mask before promising revenge on his descendants. Two centuries later, an unfortunate encounter with her tomb sets that revenge in motion, placing the innocent Katia Vajda—also played by Steele—directly in Asa’s path.

Obie digs into Bava’s remarkable feature directorial debut, from its shadowy black-and-white photography and decaying castles to the eerie atmosphere that helped establish him as one of Italian horror’s defining filmmakers. Along the way, we look at Steele’s unforgettable dual performance, Asa’s impressively long commitment to holding a grudge, and a story filled with crypts, vampires, family curses, forbidden tombs, and people who really should learn to leave ancient corpses alone.

It’s beautiful, macabre, atmospheric, and unmistakably Bava. After two hundred years underground, Asa is back—and death has done absolutely nothing to improve her disposition.

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A college student looking for material on witchcraft probably shouldn't begin by checking into an isolated New England town permanently buried under fog, but The City of the Dead has other plans. In this episode of The Introverted Obelisk, Obie Knox heads to Whitewood, Massachusetts, where Nan Barlow's innocent research trip leads her straight into a town with a very long memory and an extremely active interest in the occult.

We'll take a look at this wonderfully atmospheric 1960 British horror film, from its fog-drenched streets and suspiciously convenient inn to Patricia Jessel's sinister Elizabeth Selwyn and Christopher Lee doing what Christopher Lee does best: making perfectly ordinary academic advice sound like it may eventually require an exorcism. Along the way, we'll talk about the film's terrific gothic atmosphere, its surprisingly bold story choices, and why Whitewood may have the worst tourism board in New England.

So grab your research notes, keep an eye on the calendar, and remember that when the locals start discussing witchcraft as though they're speaking from personal experience, perhaps it's time to abandon the thesis and go home.

This week, we're checking into Whitewood for The City of the Dead—where the history is fascinating, the fog never lifts, and checkout may be more complicated than advertised.

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