The cinematic desert has just gotten significantly hotter, and the heat isn’t merely radiating from the sun-scorched dunes of Egypt. After decades of anticipation, the beloved supernatural adventure franchise roars back into theaters with The Mummy 4: Rise of the Forgotten Pharaoh (2026). While nostalgia is a potent spell, the filmmakers have actively refused to let this sequel coast on the fading embers of 1990s blockbuster glory. Yes, Rick O’Connell (Brendan Fraser) and a miraculously resurrected Imhotep (Arnold Vosloo) are back, locking horns in their classic, rugged clashes that fans know and love. But this time, the narrative undergoes a thrilling, high-octane paradigm shift. The true epicenter of this ancient earthquake rests squarely on the shoulders of Evelyn O’Connell and Anck-Su-Namun. Played with ferocious intensity and undeniable charisma by Rachel Weisz and Patricia Velásquez, the franchise’s leading ladies have officially hijacked the spotlight, proving that fighting the supernatural is an art form best executed with relentless firepower and killer style.
For years, Evelyn was the undisputed heart and brain of the franchise—a brilliant, clumsy Egyptologist who could read ancient hieroglyphs as easily as a morning newspaper. Rise of the Forgotten Pharaoh shatters that dusty rearview mirror with a shotgun blast. Rachel Weisz returns sharper, harder, and more unapologetically fierce than ever before. Trading in her delicate, sweeping librarian dresses for rugged, tactical desert leather, Evelyn turns every crumbling ancient tomb into her personal runway of destruction. There is a palpable, thrilling evolution in her combat sequences. She retains her razor-sharp historical wit—often decoding complex ancient booby traps while simultaneously reloading a Winchester rifle—but she is no longer just translating curses from the sidelines. Whether she is diving through collapsing stone corridors or unleashing a hail of buckshot into a horde of the undead, Weisz brings a gritty, grounded realism to the franchise’s trademark over-the-top pulp adventure.
But perhaps the most electrifying and surprising transformation belongs to the franchise’s former tragic antagonist, Anck-Su-Namun. Patricia Velásquez steps into a relentless, commanding new role, swapping the passive maneuvering of ancient curses for visceral, deadly confidence on the battlefield. Velásquez’s performance is a breathtaking revelation, seamlessly blending her character’s royal, ancient arrogance with a newly forged, icy ruthlessness. Wielding dual hooked blades with terrifying precision, she turns every subterranean chase and brutal hand-to-hand skirmish into a breathtaking display of lethal elegance. The film takes massive joy in showcasing her evolution from a cursed, lovesick pawn into an apex predator of the underworld. Her uneasy, crackling dynamic with Evelyn forms the emotional and tactical spine of the film. Watching these two formidable women—once bitter rivals across the chasm of time—form a hesitant, razor-sharp alliance to take down an undead army is a masterclass in cinematic reinvention.
Of course, this elevated level of heroics is entirely necessitated by a monstrous threat that demands nothing less. The Egyptian underworld has ruptured, unleashing a terrifying new breed of cursed mummies. These are not the slow, shuffling, bandaged corpses of Hollywood yesteryear. They are faster, infinitely stronger, and possess a hive-mind intelligence that makes them vastly more ruthless than anything the O’Connell family has ever faced. The stakes are no longer just about stopping a single resurrected priest; they are about containing a supernatural extinction-level event. The stark contrast between the relentless, swarm-like destruction of the new undead and the cold, tactical precision of Evelyn and Anck-Su-Namun’s coordinated counter-attacks provides the film’s most gripping narrative tension.
While the women are busy dismantling this sprawling supernatural army, Brendan Fraser’s Rick O’Connell gracefully shares the frontlines. Fraser brings his signature rugged charm and physical comedy back to the screen, but his role has matured into that of a battle-hardened tactician, gleefully dropping one-liners and exchanging heavy blows alongside Arnold Vosloo’s Imhotep. Vosloo, too, leans into a more complex portrayal of the disgraced high priest, realizing that his own dark magic is dwarfed by the forgotten pharaoh tearing through the mortal realm. In a welcome return to form, John Hannah reprises his role as Jonathan Carnahan, providing the essential, cowardly-yet-endearing comic relief that grounds the apocalyptic stakes in human frailty. Yet, the men clearly recognize and respect that the tide of battle is being dictated by the women leading the charge.
Beyond the sheer kinetic energy of its set pieces, Rise of the Forgotten Pharaoh serves as a visual feast that merges pulp adventure aesthetics with modern blockbuster sensibilities. The costume design is meticulously crafted, beautifully reflecting this new era of empowerment. Evelyn’s tactical gear and Anck-Su-Namun’s reimagined combat attire aren’t just for show; they are utility-driven garments designed for women who treat every archaeological dig as an active war zone. The action sequences defy gravity and logic with unapologetic glee, blending explosive tomb raids with dark, shifting ancient magic in a way that feels incredibly fresh.
This is a bold, thunderous statement by the filmmakers, proving that legacy sequels can do far more than just play the greatest hits. The film delivers the pulse-pounding action fans have craved for decades while elevating the experience with a commanding new energy that completely revitalizes the mythos. In this cursed, adrenaline-fueled world, beauty and bullets go hand in hand, and the resulting spectacle is dangerously irresistible. Every newly awakened undead pharaoh is about to learn the hard way: you should never, under any circumstances, underestimate a woman in knee-high boots with a loaded shotgun.