Digging Up the Wrong Movie
If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if The Mummy, National Treasure, and an episode of Ancient Aliens had a love child and then abandoned it in a desert, you’ll find your answer in Prisoners of the Sun. Directed by Roger Christian—the man who gave us Battlefield Earth (yes, that one)—this 2013 adventure-horror film proves that lightning can indeed strike twice, and in this case, it hits right in the script department.
It’s a movie that promises ancient curses, cosmic gods, and the fate of humanity. What it delivers instead is the cinematic equivalent of falling asleep during a museum tour and dreaming that Indiana Jones is being played by a mall security guard.
Archaeology for Dummies (and Apparently Everyone in the Cast)
Our hero, Doug Adler (David Charvet), is a young archaeology student with the charisma of an expired protein bar. He’s brought to Egypt by Professor Masterton (John Rhys-Davies, looking like he’s doing this movie to pay for better scripts) to assist in an expedition that allegedly hides the “secret to creation.” Spoiler: the secret turns out to be “don’t make this movie.”
Before long, Doug and his motley crew are descending into a pyramid that looks like it was designed in Microsoft Paint. Inside, they find booby traps, ancient monsters, and dialogue so clunky it should have been left buried with the Pharaohs.
The premise—“The gods have awoken, the world will end, and only these people can stop it”—could have worked in the hands of someone with a budget, direction, or even mild enthusiasm. Unfortunately, Prisoners of the Sun plays out like a school field trip gone horribly wrong, minus the field, the trip, and anything resembling suspense.
Curse of the Wooden Acting
Let’s talk about the performances, because everyone here seems trapped in their own genre. David Charvet, best known for Baywatch, delivers his lines as if he’s still waiting for his cue. His Doug Adler is supposed to be a relatable everyman, but he reacts to ancient horrors the same way most people react to discovering their coffee order is wrong—mildly irritated but not enough to care.
Carmen Chaplin (yes, that Chaplin, granddaughter of Charlie) plays Sarah, the professor’s daughter and resident voice of reason. Sadly, her performance has all the energy of a bored museum guide on her fifth shift explaining where the toilets are.
Meanwhile, John Rhys-Davies, the only actor with a pulse, storms through every scene like he’s auditioning for a better movie. He bellows exposition about “sleepers” and “cosmic alignments” with Shakespearean gusto, as if sheer volume could summon an Oscar nomination. Watching him try to sell this material is like watching a Michelin-star chef forced to cook with expired ramen.
The Pyramid of Pixelation
Visually, Prisoners of the Sun is a masterclass in how to make a $10 million movie look like it cost $10. The CGI ranges from “PlayStation 1 boss battle” to “PowerPoint transition.” Every supernatural effect looks like it was downloaded from a free trial of Adobe After Effects and rendered by someone using dial-up internet.
The sets don’t fare much better. The underground tombs look like they were filmed in someone’s basement with a sandbag budget. You keep expecting to see a light switch on the wall or a “Wet Paint” sign next to the sarcophagus.
When the mummy Al Khem Ayut finally appears, the film wants us to be terrified. Instead, the creature looks like a leftover from a Halloween store clearance bin, complete with rubbery limbs and a glare that screams, “Why am I here?”
The Plot That Time Forgot
Here’s a quick recap of the story, in case you lose consciousness during the viewing (a real possibility):
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An expedition to uncover ancient Egyptian secrets unleashes supernatural forces.
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The gods begin to awaken because, of course, someone read the wrong hieroglyph.
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The heroes must stop an ancient countdown before the apocalypse begins.
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Nothing makes sense, but there are lots of torches, chanting, and sand.
The film teases cosmic stakes but never shows them. We’re told repeatedly that “the world will end,” yet all we ever see is a group of tired archaeologists wandering through beige hallways arguing about destiny. It’s like The Da Vinci Code if all the codes were written in crayon.
Even the traps are disappointing. You expect blades, collapsing floors, or killer scarabs—but instead you get dusty corridors and dialogue like, “We must not disturb the resting place!” followed immediately by someone disturbing the resting place.
Mummy Issues
One might assume that a movie featuring an ancient mummy god named Al Khem Ayut would, at some point, show him doing something godlike. Alas, his grand plan seems to involve lurking dramatically while everyone else screams about prophecies.
When the final confrontation arrives, it’s less “epic showdown between man and myth” and more “awkward light show in a sandpit.” Doug and the mummy engage in a battle of wills that looks suspiciously like two people glaring at each other while a strobe light malfunctions.
Even the apocalypse gets tired of waiting. The film promises “the countdown to the end of the world,” but the world looks suspiciously fine. Maybe the gods fell asleep again halfway through the script.
The Mystery of Roger Christian
Director Roger Christian is a fascinating figure. He’s an Oscar-winning set decorator (Star Wars, no less) and somehow also the man responsible for Battlefield Earth. Watching Prisoners of the Sun, you can see both sides of that résumé fighting for dominance—the guy who once designed the Millennium Falcon’s cockpit and the guy who thought Dutch angles could save a bad movie.
To his credit, Christian tries to inject grandeur with sweeping desert shots and ominous music. But without a coherent story or believable characters, all the sand in Egypt can’t cover up this cinematic tomb.
Adventure? Horror? Existential Comedy?
Prisoners of the Sun bills itself as an adventure-horror, but it fails at both. There’s no adventure because everyone looks too tired to run, and there’s no horror because nothing remotely scary happens. The only thing terrifying is the editing, which jumps between scenes like it’s fleeing the set.
At times, it veers so far into absurdity that it becomes unintentionally hilarious. Characters deliver lines like, “The gods are angry!” while staring at what is clearly a green-screen backdrop. When one of them gasps, “We’re running out of time!” you’ll nod in agreement—both with the plot and your own patience.
The Sands of Mediocrity
By the end, as Doug presumably saves the world and the gods return to their nap, you’re left with more questions than answers. Chief among them: “How did Joss Ackland get dragged into this?” and “Why didn’t the mummy just end things early for everyone’s sake?”
The final scenes attempt to set up a mythic tone, with talk of destiny, rebirth, and cosmic balance. But at that point, the only balance you care about is whether you can stay awake until the credits roll.
Verdict: Buried Alive in Boredom
Prisoners of the Sun tries to be an ancient epic and ends up an archaeological accident. It’s a relic of a bygone era when adventure movies thought sand and shouting equaled storytelling.
Even as an ironic watch, it’s a challenge. The pacing drags, the acting stumbles, and the special effects might awaken your inner archaeologist—because you’ll want to dig up the original Mummy DVDs and rebury this one.
★☆☆☆☆ (1 out of 5)
An ancient curse brought this film to life, and another one should put it back where it belongs—sealed in a sarcophagus, buried deep beneath the sands of cinematic shame.
