Manos: Finger-Lick’n Good

If you have not been privileged enough to bear witness to one of film’s greatest achievements, Manos: The Hands of Fate, then you have not yet lived. Set in a barren Texan desert, this landmark horror film focuses on one family’s zany roadtrip, guided by the sweet caress of fate.

Manos was originally panned by critics and audiences alike. Much of the cast and crew is said to have left the theatre during the film’s premiere, due to the film’s perceived poor quality. John Reynolds, who played the memorable role of “Torgo” (servant to “The Master”) reportedly commited suicide within a year of the film’s release because of how the film was received. But now, over forty years later, the film can be appreciated for the true work of genius that it is.

Hal Warren, a manure salesman from El Paso wrote, directed, financed, casted and starred in this little gem, lending his remarkable vision to the big screen. The film was the result of a wager between Mr. Warren and a friend, who bet that Warren could not make a horror film to rival those of Hollywood, armed only with a home video cam.

Manos: The Hands of Fate follows “Michael” (Warren), his beautiful wife, young daughter and black poodle on a vacation that they will never forget! While driving down a road that locals assert, “leads to no where” Michael and the gang stumble across a derelict shack. This is the home of Torgo, a wacky sort of fellow with a rare deformity of the knees. Torgo informs the family that he takes care of the house while “The Master” (a priest to the god “Manos” who looks uncannily like Frank Zappa in a poncho) is away. “The Master”, Torgo says, would not be pleased by their presence. Despite this admonition, Michael forces Torgo to allow his family to stay at the shack for reasons unknown. There in the surrounding area of Torgo’s shack, Michael and his family endure hellish rituals and awkward sexual advances from Torgo!

Peppered with pointless characters and scenes, inane dialogue, artless camera work, clumsy dubbing and an elevator music soundtrack, it is easy to see why someone would mistake this film for the worst sort of twaddle imaginable. But from today’s modern standpoint, Manos takes on a new light, boldly defying what we perceive to be the basic tennants of filmmaking.

In 2007, we find ourselves asking questions like, “Is this movie really bad and if so, why?”. The only 2007 answer that we can offer is that the movie has qualities so far beyond our understanding of storytelling, filmmaking and the like that we have no grounds on which to judge it. Its originality is more than refreshing, it elevates the film to the status of high art. My children may never live to see Manos: The Hands of Fate fully understood and appreciated, but I personally have high hopes for future generations of movie goers.

—Rachael Brown 2 Comments