Elvis Presley and John F. Kennedy are living under assumed names at an east-Texas convalescent home, where they join forces to track down a serial-killer mummy sporting a Stetson hat and high-heeled cowboy boots who is stalking the other residents of the home. Writer-director Don Coscarelli’s film (adapted from a story by Joe R. Lansdale), has “cult film” written all over it. And who knows? He might make it—but I doubt it. You can’t set out to make a cult film; you can only make a movie and hope the cult forms around you. Coscarelli’s wacky weirdness is too clever by half, and the high-definition-video look is not a pleasure to behold. But there are modest pleasures—chief among them are stars Bruce Campbell (an uncanny Elvis) and the great Ossie Davis as Kennedy (dyed black after his faked assassination).