Entry #15: Manos: The Hands of Fate

Release Date: November 15, 1966
Budget: $19,000

Rumor has it that Manos: The Hands of Fate was conceived as a bet by insurance salesman, Hal Warren, at a local El Paso cafe that he could make a horror movie because it was so easy.  Although previous movies reviewed on this blog might indicate that making a horror movie does indeed require very little money, story, or talent, Manos proves that some bets should be left at their origin to die as nothing more than male bravado.

Hal Warren wrote and directed Manos and starred as the misogynistic Michael, who drags his young family deep into desert in search of a vacation lodge only to get lost (horror film style) and agrees to stay the night at a ramshackle adobe home overseen by Torgo, who "looks after the place while the Master is away."  Things go down hill after that for poor Michael and family: first, their dog Peppy gets eaten by the darkness (or so it seems because of the extremely poor lighting for outside shots); second, Torgo wakes his Master who worships the god, Manos, and Manos directs the Master and his brood of wives to capture and enslave the family; finally, the family bumbles through the desert but are ultimately ensnared by the Master and doomed to a life of serving him and looking after the house.... because Torgo gets killed along the way.

It is a trite horror story that is made worse by the extremely poor filming, lighting, and acting.  To Warren's credit, the voices are well dubbed, but that is the only thing I have nice to say about this film.  I can't quite put my finger on what makes this movie so bad and so much worse than the rest of the 60's movies of this ilk, but here is my best guess: 1) Warren, as Michael, is hard to watch.  He takes prototypical 60's male condescension and turns up to 11.  There are numerous scenes where the family's world is falling apart (dog is killed, car won't start, daughter disappears, trapped with a satanic cult, etc..) and Michael's go-to response to his poor wife is 'quit overreacting, I'll handle it'... ugh... fuck you, Mike; and 2) There are so many painfully shot scenes that are extended by Warren, presumably to meet a run time goal, where I felt like he was intentionally wasting my time, sort of like waiting for a child who is goofing off when we are already late for school.

Manos has become a cult classic of late because its horridness and because it has several points of comic relief, although for me they weren't enough to keep me from hating this movie:

• Torgo is costumed to look like a satyr, but looks like a fat legged hobo.  He does get his own theme music, which I love, and which you can listen to right here;
• There are two policemen who wander about the film making a very poor effort to help people.  The elder police officer delivers two of my favorite lines in the movie:

1. To Michael and his family after pulling them over: "If you're running late, you should've started earlier"; 
2. To two poor teens just trying to make out in a car in the desert: "Whatever is you're not doing, go don't do it somewhere else." 

• After the Master wakes his harem of wives, they immediately start to bicker (so typical) and then get in a brawl in the sand that lasts for way to long with no discernible winner.  Two minutes for pulling hair, eh. 
• I swear that Michael is supposed to be dead 3 or 4 times and Torgo at least 2 and yet they keep coming back into the movie.  These false endings killed me, emotionally.  

Of course, Michael tries to shoot the Master with his gun who doesn't die.  Then we see two young women driving up the road, getting lost, and finding Michael at the door, "taking care of the place while the Master is away."

There is just something about Hands: the Hands of Fate that made it worse than the most of the other B drive-in horror films I've watched.  Perhaps its the arrogance of both Hal Warren as a writer, director, producer and as Michael that kept reminding me of Dazed & Confused Mike's apt description of Clint: "Dominant Male Monkey Motherfucker."  Perhaps its the painfully long scenes where nothing happens except bad lighting.  Perhaps its the extremely poor execution despite an ample budget for the time ($143,000 in today's dollars) to make something at least watchable.  Perhaps it's all three. 

I give Manos: The Hands of Fate -9 stars.  I'm glad Michael died; there, I said it.