The Mummy is a movie like that. There is hardly a thing I can say in its favor, except that I was cheered by nearly every minute of it. There is a little immaturity stuck away in the crannies of even the most judicious of us, and we should treasure it.
This is a movie about a man who fooled around with the pharaoh's mistress and lived (and died, and lived again) to regret it. As his punishment he is "mummified alive," sealed inside a sarcophagus with thousands of flesh-eating beetles (which eat flesh "very slowly," we learn).
Millennia pass. In the 1920s, a French foreign legionnaire named Rick meets a librarian named Evelyn, and joins with her and her brother in an unwise quest to find Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead. (Sample dialogue: "Are we talking about THE Hamunaptra?").
They get into a race with other fortune hunters, who have heard of untold treasure buried beneath the sands, while meanwhile the descendants of the high priests, who have guarded the city for 3,000 years, move against them.
There is good reason not to disturb the mummy, named Imhotep. If he is brought back to life, he will arise a walking disease, we learn, and unleash the 10 proverbial plagues upon Egypt.