Manos: The Hands of Fate

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Upon starting this DVD entitled "Manos:The Hands of Fate" I was immediately impressed by the sincere tackiness during the intro sequence. The inappropriate music, voice overdub and the poor color quality and graininess of the film do create an atmosphere.

Perhaps the most striking first impression is the illogical use of a grown woman's voice to overdub the little girl's voice. It cuts to the heart of the production values and most importantly post production technique. The use of the adult's voice for the little girl immediately tells us that the film will be asking a lot from the audience-perhaps too much. It is beyond reason that a editor would use this technique unless as an absolute last resort. The use of this voice for dubbing the little girl's lines is way beyond our expectations of even very problematic editing. It immediately tells us there are real problems with this film. It also tells us that we are going to see and hear something which we will not see very often on video.

For this reason we must continue to watch the movie. We must see how intense this technique will become. We must see what the next mistake is and how it will happen and what the film will ask us to accept next.

This is one of the keys to watching "Manos". We want to see the mistakes, the poor editing, amateur acting errors (the actors overall were good in this film-they only made the mistakes of beginning actors) the inappropriate music and improperly timed sound edits, the incredibly long pauses and illogical cut aways.

The use of a silent camera may have actually influenced the actors and directing on this movie. They may have began acting as if they were in a silent movie ( making gestures, over expression of the face was often used to communicate in silent films).

The actor John Reynolds gives a most inventive, quirky and yet sincere interpretation of the Igor type character. He is actually very good in several scenes-both comic and serious. The scene where he is deciding whether to allow the family into the "Master's" house is very intensely acted. The First Bride also gives a good performance. She is relaxed, comfortable and yet concentrated.

The filmmaker/lead actor Hal Warren gives the impression he's in a hurry to get film finished. The film ends with his image greeting the next group of visitors.

There is no question that Warren was out to get the job done-the movie made. He accomplished this but in the post production it seems stopped "putting a film together" and truly just did a rough assembly of scenes and sound track.

Unlike Herk Harvey (Carnival of Souls)who had tremendous experience in film-making, and Ed Wood Jr.(Plan 9 From Outer Space) who evidently had professionals working on his productions and post productions- Hal Warren had no funding for post nor experience.

He seems to have relied on rough, haphazard and truly mistaken editing and thus cinematic storytelling. For this reason we must watch. Because after awhile of watching this movie we begin see what is happening occasionally is that our perspectives and paradigms of what is expected in film are not only being broken and disregarded; they are being smashed apart. This is a common goal of the experimental film.

Although this is most assuredly not what Warren intended, he accidentally did create a film to watched and appreciated for its often illogical sights and sounds.

Manos: The Hands of Fate, currently ranked #5 on IMDb's Bottom 100, is a rite of passage for serious fans of trashy horror movies, marking the transition from 'merely bad' to 'completely and utterly inept in every way imaginable. It's a test of fortitude that sees many fall by the wayside; however, those who do manage to go the distance can wear their achievement as a badge of pride, knowing that they have taken the very worst that z-grade horror can throw at them and survived the ordeal (albeit with possible mental scarring).

The one-and-only film from Harold P. Warren, who obviously realised thereafter that film directing wasn't his forté, Manos opens with a family driving through the desert on their way to Valley Lodge for a vacation. Unfortunately, father Michael (Harold P. Warren, proving that acting wasn't his forté either), his wife Margaret (Diane Adelson), and daughter Debbie (Jackey Neyman) soon find themselves lost, eventually pulling up to a strange desert hostel where they are greeted by twitchy manservant Torgo (John Reynolds), who looks like he stores bags of popcorn or cotton wool down his trousers.

Torgo warns that his master (Tom Neyman) won't be happy if they stay the night, but they won't take no for an answer; their stubborn insistence puts them in serious peril, for the master is the head of a Satanic cult and he wants to add Margaret to his collection of brides.

To list everything that is wrong with this film would take longer than it took me to watch it (including the times where I fell asleep and had to rewind), suffice to say that there are fewer examples of poor editing, dreary pacing, atrocious direction, woeful acting, and diabolical dubbing. Quite how Warren and company managed to mess up in all departments is one of the great mysteries of cinema, ranking right up there with the inexplicable popularity of Seth Rogen, but it has ensured the film a notoriety that means it will never be forgotten.

This isn't a movie. This isn't even a home video. It's a home video that aspired to be a movie but crashed somewhere in-between, and plummeted through the abyss to depths unimaginable by the mainstream. Coherence is the film's greatest foe: bizarrity and incompetence its watchwords. This is it, bad movie buffs. This is Manos: Hands of Fate.

Years ago, in the dusty desert outside El Paso, an unknown fertilizer salesman decided to craft a horror film with the assistance of friends throughout the El Paso area, and a legend was born. Armed with $19,000 dollars, a cheap 16mm camera, and absolutely no knowledge of the art of film-making whatsoever, Hal P. Warren set out upon his masterpiece.

There is absolutely no redeeming quality about Manos. There is no directing, the editing appears as if it was done by a blind member of some mud-crawling insect species, the artwork is a stain upon the name of art, the script is a poorly cluttered and illogical joke masking the director's fantasies, the dialog will have you tear out your eardrums with your fingernails, and the acting is so atrocious you will feel as if the movie has violated you. It isn't as bad as Monster-a-Go-Go, but it almost manages to snatch the sorry laurels of worst movie ever made from that Lovecraftian abomination.

Manos must have put good directors like Kubrick or Capra in convulsions during its production: so powerful is the elemental force of badness flowing from every stinking pore of its perverse form. It is the polar opposite to the good movie, the parameters of its illogicity and non-acting existing to defy the borders of taste, and ultimately, sanity. Every grainy, scratchy, blurry frame of the muddy color palette and every sound byte of the poorly synchronized and terribly dubbed dialog offers an entrancing glance into a deeper, darker world of madness that is Manos the Hands of Fate. It is not of this earth. It is not of our dimension. Surely Hal P. Warren was some malfeasant alien god from a realm far removed from our own, hurtling across the icy chasms of space with a vile mission in store for the unsuspecting members of the cinematic world.

Its legacy, however, lives on in the form of Mystery Science Theater. The acid-tipped barbs flew fast and furiously, striking the venerable beast in its countless weak points, crafting from the chaos a comedic gem that approaches cinematic perfection stamped into the world of movies in its own stinking ichor. This is Manos: Hands of Fate. This is the purifying baptism of fire that scourges the detestable vestiges of mediocrity and normalcy from the mainstream viewer and forever makes them a member of the cult world, the world of bad movies and weirdness that cannot be imagined. It is the cornerstone, the figurehead, the mighty totem representing everything that Mystery Science Theater and the legions of bad movie sites across the Web hold dear to their hearts.

Rejoice, connoisseurs of bad movies! Fall upon the dark altar of Manos to pay homage to Torgo and the Master, and forever remember the twisted legacy they wrought from the tangled celluoid! Imitate Torgo's stumbling walk and high-brained drawl, until it fuses with the very core of your being!

When I watch a film for the first time it is generally quite easy for me to establish an initial opinion of the film at hand. At times I will come to this very website and submit a rating of the given film or perhaps I will turn to a friend and give my thoughts of the film (which tend to be quite clear). Well, after reading quite a few extremely hyped reviews and discussions throughout the internet, I decided to try my luck and buy the alleged worst film of all time: ''Manos': The Hands of Fate'. Let it be clear that this review does not pertain to the Mystery Science Theater 3000 version of the film; rather it applies to Hal P. Warren's original, cut-and-dry, El Paso-born version of the film. ''Manos': The Hands of Fate' may very well be, one of the only films of which classification is painstakingly difficult to near-impossible. The film leaves a quaint, surreal, and indecisive effect upon the viewer which is what leads to the formulation of this strange conclusion.

Warren's film opens on a vacationing family traveling through El Paso, Texas. The family consists of little Debbie (Jackey Neyman), Margaret (Diane Mahree), and Mike (played by our very own Hal P. Warren). Surely enough, the travelers are soon found lost on the way to their vacation site. They eventually turn onto a long dirt road marked by a sign promising a "Valley Lodge". After a great deal of aimless meandering throughout the backwoods of El Paso, the vacationers come across a mysterious Lodge run by an awkward and deformed Satyr named Torgo (John Reynolds). Seeing as it is getting late, the visitors ask about staying the night only to be deterred by Torgo's ominous words "The master would not approve." After some pressure from the family, Torgo folds and allows the newcomers to stay. As the visitors enter the lodge they are welcomed by a mantel full of strange hand-like pagan icons and sculptures, accompanied by a strange portrait of presumably The Master and his hound. As Michael and his wife Margaret observe the strangeness of the portrait and their surroundings, a strange howl is heard from outside in the desert. Soon strange happenings begin around this lodge of sins, as Michael and his family's fate is determined by "the hands of fate"

To be blunt, the film is simply quite technically limited. Supposedly the film was shot entirely on one camera which was only capable of shooting 60 seconds of film at a time. To say that this hurt the film would be an untrue, if anything it helped the pacing of this little low-budget flick. Hal P. Warren was a director with literally no experience or conceived directorial abilities; he had no knowledge of pacing or camera work (if he had any it was most likely limited to home videos). The acting for the most part is quite dismal, the only exception being a wonderful character conceived by Warren named Torgo. Reynolds' portrayal of Torgo is supreme; although having no professional training or profession acting experience in cinema he creates a one of-a-kind character, which has been quite unparalleled in cult-cinema. No matter how much one hates this film, they will always remember the timid and tormented Torgo, uttering his infamous line: "The Master would not approve." The music featured in the film is quite repetitive and amateur, although at times it does add to the feel, aid the pacing, and promote the overall camp-factor of the film (which was sometimes delightful). The cinematography is certainly not note-worthy, nor is the lighting. The editing seemed to have been done with haste and is one of the key factors which seems to have earned this film its reputation. One thing however, which is not widely criticized by viewers is the plot. It is a plot with great potential that was realized by Warren; at the time it would have been quite fresh. Interestingly enough, it could vaguely be seen as a blundering, early version of 'The Texas Chain Saw Massacre' (not to say that Tobe Hooper drew any influence from ''Manos': The Hands of Fate').

Well, this is widely considered to be the downright worst of the worst – the bottom of the bottom. As stated earlier, I cannot place this film on a scale of one to ten, yet I can argue that this is a false statement. Almost every aspect of the film is done poorly, yet as odd as it sounds, the movie generates a charming and enjoyable little atmosphere; it simply does not feel like the worst one out there. There are plenty of films which are far less enjoyable to watch than Manos. Technically speaking the assumption can be made that it is the worst, but then again there are films with far more dismal lighting, far more sloppy camera work and far worse pacing. One could contend that the acting is downright dismal and corpse-like in every respect, yet there are films with worse acting and absolutely no memorable or quotable (Torgo - whether it be mocking or homage) characters. Hence, in many respects Hal Warren's single 1966 production isn't the worst piece of celluloid out there, yet at the same time it possess many, if not all of the qualities which could be attributed to the worst film of all time. However, the goal of this review was not to debunk the position in cinema history ''Manos': The Hands of Fate' has achieved, but rather to offer a little insight into what this film has to offer. In all fairness, I enjoyed it in a wonderful, campy, and surreal sort of way... after all, what other film is out there like this? What film is there that was made on possibly the lowest budget of all time, featuring the work of the most cinematically inept individuals, yet despite these obvious flaws has kept people talking about it for years to come?

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.