Every Character in The Mummy Is Bisexual

Look, I’m not here to debate. I’m here to testify.

Every single character in The Mummy (1999) radiates bisexual energy. It's not subtext. It's not head-canon. It's there. In the costumes. In the chaos. In the eyeshadow. In the lingering eye contact and the shared thirst for ancient curses and each other. This isn’t a movie. It’s a bisexual awakening set in a desert with bonus mummies. And it changed lives. Let’s unpack.

1. Rick O’Connell: Bisexual Disaster With a Gun and a Soft Heart

Brendan Fraser’s Rick is the blueprint. He’s rugged but sensitive. Cocky but polite. He’ll shoot a man then apologise to your brother for doing it in front of you. He wears a white shirt half-unbuttoned, slings a gun across his back, and throws hands with an ancient priest because a librarian he just met told him to.

Their entire meet-cute is built on mutual chaos. Rick is the kind of man who flirts with danger and everyone on the expedition. Including Beni, unfortunately. He’s the bisexual action hero we didn’t know we needed—until we did. And now we can never go back.

Also, just briefly, Rick O’Connell is Daddy. There will be no further comments at this time.

2. Evelyn Carnahan: Power Bimbo in a Silk Blouse

Evie is bisexual in the academic way. In the “I read about it in the archives and now I’m emotionally compromised” way. She wears linen and eyeliner. She quotes Egyptian mythology like foreplay. She gets drunk on a boat and says:

That’s a coming out scene. Don’t argue with me.

Evie has chemistry with everyone. She kisses Rick, yes, but also shares one of the film’s most charged looks with Anck-Su-Namun — the reincarnated ancient queen in body glitter and body paint. And you can’t tell me she didn’t have a crisis about it later in the tent.

She is the patron saint of repressed girlies who would absolutely let a high priestess ruin their life.

3. Ardeth Bay: The Eyeliner. The Voice. The Vibes.

Ardeth Bay walks into the film with his kohl-lined eyes and starts monologuing about curses. Every scene he’s in feels like it’s being scored by a slow-motion bisexual wind. He rides horses. He leads a sacred order. He respects Evelyn, bickers with Rick, and never once breaks eye contact.

If Rick is “bi disaster,” Ardeth is “bi ascended.” Regal. Reserved. Absolutely open to a thruple. He’s there to protect the world from evil but he’s also clearly not immune to Rick’s shirt. And frankly, who would be?

4. Imhotep: Horny, Undead, Unapologetic

Imhotep is ancient queer rage and erotic vengeance personified. He comes back from the dead, shirtless and dripping, solely to resurrect his hot, bisexual girlfriend. He’s committed. He’s extra. He’s not subtle.

That’s a breakup text if I’ve ever read one.

The way he stalks through the city absorbing souls like it’s a minor inconvenience? The way he stares at Rick? The way he screams when Anck-Su-Namun bails on him? Queer melodrama. Coded in eyeliner and smoke.

Also, the body count? Immaculate.

5. Anck-Su-Namun: Evil Bisexual Icon

She is body glitter, betrayal, and bisexual chaos wrapped in gold paint. She stabs her way into legend, reincarnates in a new body, seduces her way back to power, and dies beautifully. Her entire presence is a music video that would’ve lived on Tumblr in 2013 with Lana Del Rey playing softly in the background.

She didn’t just want love. She wanted domination. And if Evie hadn’t had a moral compass, I’m telling you: they could’ve ruled Egypt together in matching silk robes.

6. Even Jonathan

Yes. Even Jonathan. Evie’s brother is coded upper-class chaos. He’s flirty, lazy, inappropriately brave, and deeply dramatic. He fakes accents. He wears scarves. He brings a hangover to a supernatural death mission. You’re telling me he’s not bisexual? Be serious.

Why It Mattered

The Mummy isn’t just beloved because it’s fun or sexy or chaotic. It’s beloved because it created a world where everyone is hot, everyone is panicked, and everyone is at least a little bit queer. It never made queerness the joke — it just made chemistry democratic. Everyone flirts. Everyone suffers. Everyone survives just barely.

And for closeted kids in 1999, that meant something. This movie was a gateway. Not just to pulp adventure but to identity. To attraction that didn’t come with shame. To characters who were stylish, messy, magnetic — and never explained themselves.

The Mummy is a bisexual classic. Not in theory. In canon. In soul. And if you disagree? I’ll see you at Hamunaptra. Also pack a fan and bring your emotional baggage.