Manos: The Hands of Fate

Equaled in clarity of vision and flawless execution only by the greater works of Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock, brilliant independent film auteur Hal Warren's ‘Manos: The Hands of Fate' transcends its genre to do everything that it should and even more. Not only is it riveting edge of your seat entertainment, it also boasts a psychological depth unequaled by any other horror movie, achieved mostly through John Reynold's Oscar-worthy, divinely subtle performance as the tormented, tragically misshapen caretaker Torgo. Part Quasimodo, part Hamlet, this gentle soul's noble end, in which he is massaged to death by a group of terrifying succubae in luscious robes, is unarguable one of the most poignant in motion picture history – it is both a tragedy and a triumph of the human spirit. Oh, was I alone with a tear in the eye at the end!

Indeed, Hal Warren's masterpiece achieves the perfect balance between the heartrendingly sad, the refreshingly sardonic, and the chillingly satanic. The Master and his hellbeast are as much evil personified as Margaret is the embodiment of goodness and chastity. In a way, this is the definitive modern-day equivalent of Goethe's Faust, though even more sublime in the simple poetry of its dialogue. When Torgo describes his master as being `not dead the way you know it' and `with us always' he is speaking for all of us, how we truly live on through the memory of our words and deeds in the minds of those who follow us, be they righteous or malevolent.

Hal Warran not only changed the face of the Texan film industry by encapsulating such a grand story in less than 75 minutes, it also helped usher in a whole new perspective of looking at film, discovering different forms which never would have been conceived. Also, it's obviously a very personal film for Warren, who allows us to share his love and devotion to the project, and it is a truly moving, cathartic experience.

It will make you laugh, it will make you cry, and maybe – just maybe – you'll learn a little bit about yourself.

I watched Manos last night.

Oh, I was the cocky one, intrigued by all the attention Manos receives, even though it is, after all, 40 years old. Sure, I thought, it'll be a laugh to investigate the claim that this might be the worst film ever made. Why, if its that bad, there must at least be comedy value in its awfulness? And in consolation, it is only an hour long.

No, the warnings are true and serious, this is bloody terrible.

After twenty minutes, I had stopped sniggering at the unimaginable ineptitude. I only realised that twenty minutes had passed when i flicked on the timer on the DVD; I honestly thought it was closer to forty-five.

After forty minutes I was shifting uncomfortably in my chair and I wanted to cry.

After an hour, I was submerged in despairing, pointless anger. I was angry with everyone involved in the film, angry with my cup of tea, my flat, the world, even God Himself (or Herself).

You will lose faith in humanity watching this film.

Imagine any conceivable measure for any possible aspect of film-making, and Manos still gets zero out of whatever. This "film" fails so utterly in every way, you'll wonder if anyone involved in its creation had ever seen or even heard of films or television. No, more than that, you'll wonder if they'd ever even spent a day on this planet. There isn't one single moment that you forget that these people are standing in front of a camera, ineptly executing one of the most awful scripts ever imagined.

I've never been so insulted by any form of "entertainment". I lost count of the number of times I was beaten over the head with a totally obvious point. I lost count of the number of times completely random stuff just *happened* with no genesis or consequence. I certainly didn't lose count of the number of locations used, or the number of musical cues, you could count those on one hand, after a circular saw accident. It baffled me that they never realised that you can't shoot film at night without some form of lighting. And the music itself... oh God.

I don't need to warn you about spoilers, there's plenty to complain about without resorting to inconsequential detail. Like the way that every time it cuts to the family, they're just standing, for no reason, in the same spot, waiting to talk to the camera. Like the absolutely shocking and disgraceful editing. People jump from awake to asleep and back, from one spot to another, from happy to sad, instantaneously. The awful acting... I don't know, its like everyone was given a piece of paper with some emoticons for happy, sad, scared and angry, and told to learn them off. The dialogue... well, technically it *is* dialogue, in the same way that McDonalds is food. Well, some people might enjoy McDonalds. See, I can't think of a parallel awfulness; "Manos" is to "bad" as... you can't finish that sentence.

Good Lord, I could go on, and on, and on, but I won't. This film cannot warrant anything but a 1/10 on IMDb. I haven't seen any of the other bottom 100 as of today, but i'm willing to bet that they are at least a rough approximation to what we call a "film". This is not.

Seriously, you really, really need to be in a masochistic kinda mood to see this out. I had to leave the screen timer on after 45 minutes just so I could keep reminding myself that, second by second, it *would* end. Because Hell itself might just be never-ending Manos.

I should note here that I sort of like bad movies. If it's amusing and campy, I'll cut it a break.

But Manos is different.

My god. What can I say about a movie so bad that it makes Plan 9 From Outer Space look like Casablanca? What can I say about a movie that has endless looped scenes of driving, the worst evil henchman in movie history, the lamest dialouge this side of my first grade hebrew school play, a movie that seems to have put together by people with utter contempt for the audience's intelligence? All I can say is this: it seems The Master's prayers to Satan have been answered. This movie is pure hell.

If it wasn't for MST3K, I wouldn't have seen Manos: The Hands of Fate. I knew I had to see it to see if it really was that bad. The negative criticisms and those slamming it as the worst movie ever do not lie, Manos: The Hands of Fate is as bad as all that. There is such thing as a terrible movie that has novelty comic value, but there is also such thing as a movie that is too inept to take that into consideration. Some will disagree, but I consider Manos: The Hands of Fate as a good example of the latter. To call the way the movie is made amateurish is being too kind, the camera work and editing are all over the place and makes anything that happens incomprehensible. The visual effects are dated and make everything even more artificial than it already is, while the bizarre and often out of sync sound effects and a score that is shrill and monotonous are enough to make your ears bleed. And even when your poor ears are suffering enough, they are assaulted even more by dialogue that is stilted, insultingly cheesy and too talky and some of the worst and annoying acting ever in film history. The villain is quite possibly the most laughable and underwhelming villain ever and you'd be hard pressed to find one that is worse-acted than here. Torga is the best thing about Manos: The Hands of Fate, but that's saying nothing as he's still irritating. The direction is so flat that you have to look hard to find evidence of any direction at all, while the story is incredibly thin and is so plodding that you're dying of boredom. In conclusion, hopelessly inept. 0/10 Bethany Cox

This movie should serve as warning to anyone who tries to make up a movie as you go along. An overused concept (family gets lost) meets a cliche (wierd guy who talks of a master)and then degrades into one big mess. The couple's little girl vanishes during filming or seems to be and a wierdo shows off his girl collection; they may or not be vampires or zombies, you never know. The story is missing, the flow is ambigous and it moves like words in an alphabet soup. Nonsense and confusion are the result. Thank you, but no thank you, Doctor Forrester.