hlcepeda

Absurdity is the guiding light in this neatly packaged short as we follow the rather abbreviated exploits of two university students who are driven by teenage angst, exposure to crime films, and misguided militancy to attack a bakery. Running throughout are hilariously dead-pan philosophical musings on the reasons for hunger and particular pairings of bakery fare. The laughable combination of the mundane and the abstract here should appeal to anyone who liked Tampopo. This short can be found on "Cinema 16", a collection of sixteen world short films; if acquired in this way, you can be treated to director Naoto Yamakawa's comments.

This "documentary" indeed succeeds in raising seductive and vexing questions, with a couple in particular coming to mind: What would JZ Knight look like if she were accidentally run over by a steam roller, and could we (as vaguely suggested by the film) safely write-off the expected result as being mere illusion? Apart from that, this pseudo-scientific mishmash of New Age gibberish and speciously interpreted Quantum Mechanics could only offer two things: a quack remedy for the guileless and emotionally needy, and – as it turned out – a financial bonanza and a cult-followers' cattle call for the film's creators; the duped and the duplicitous. Here's to hoping that future generations will not judge our times by the tin-plated success of this movie; not that we wouldn't deserve it.

I'm sorry, but I really have to weigh in on this puppy.

I think everyone is making way too much of 'Manos'. Sure, it's fun to queue up and pound away at this pathetic punching bag of a movie, but that's hardly a worthy challenge, is it. One might as well stuff a runty, two-day old kitten into a pair of wrestling Speedos then drop Andre the Giant onto it like a bomb. Wow. What a contest.

Part of the problem (well, my problem) with the reviews, springs from the tacit notion that this film is legitimate. That is to say, legitimate to the extent that there is a general assumption that because it actually made it into the theaters, it belonged there at all. With that legitimacy lent, it then became fair game and, hence, worthy of any level of consideration. But knowing that the film's creator attempted to distance himself from his own creation, leads me to believe that, ultimately, 'Manos' was never intended to be released into the world of Man. (Well, at least not into the world of THIS man.) Consider: Should the impromptu Super 8's of your infant nephew Stevie explosively pooping into his Pampers hit the local Cineplex? Of course not. So your Sony camera caught all the hot action when that errant barbecue spark got to your new Ferrari Modena which then sent your flame-engulfed great grandmother on her merry way through the garage door. You really want moviegoers to sit through that sort of thing? Come on.

And something else. There is no great profundity or meaning in the fact that some cast members took their own lives, and perhaps due to the incredible shame they felt in participating in such a crumby venture. No one kills themselves over appearing in bad movies (although some should). It is more likely that anyone disturbed enough to volunteer for 'Manos' is disturbed enough to "off" themselves without 'Manos' as a catalyst. 'Manos' was symptomatic; it wasn't the cause. Those four actors? I feel for them, but their days were numbered long before 'Manos' ever steamily plopped into the theaters. Okay. It's possible that 'Manos' accelerated them toward their common doom like an F-16CJ in full afterburner. Still, it was gonna happen. Further evidence as to the psychological state of the cast members? (Notice that I avoid calling them actors.) The performances throughout. Case closed. I won't waste IMDb server space on this one. Although, going by Torgo's performance, one could be forgiven for assuming that his suicide preceded the making of 'Manos'. That would nicely explain much of what I saw (and smelled).

With that said on the suicides, it's quite possible that the four in question faked their own deaths in order to escape the ignominy associated with their hideous doings. Sort of an augmented version of the witness protection program, although, in this case the witnesses are also the perpetrators. Doesn't seem fair, does it.

Final Comment: I was 10 years old and in Brooklyn when 'Manos' was released. So it's highly unlikely that I had anything to do with it. I just wanted that out there for the record. Thank you.