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Ugo Fabrizio Giordani
A family driving through a small town gets lost and winds up at a backwoods shack managed by Torgo, who takes care of it while The Master is away. The Master worships Manos, an evil deity, and he also wears a neat cape. When Torgo lets the family stay, The Master awakens and does mean stuff like burning off Torgo's hand and sicking his dog on the family pet. Meanwhile, The Master's wives wrestle for his favor. Written by
Jeremy Yuenger <email@example.com>
Every so often, someone comes onto IMDb (or a similar forum) and declares that such-and-such a film is, and I quote, "THE WORST MOVIE EVER!!!" Usually the culprit is the latest big-budget, little-story extravaganza, or some popular work receiving its expected share of backlash. I always laugh a bit when people do this. Clearly, these innocent souls have never seen an episode of "Mystery Science Theater 3000." Specifically, they have never been exposed to the horror that is "Manos: The Hands of Fate." Sure, plenty of movies are bad, but usually if you look hard enough, you can see some evidence that someone on board had at least a vague idea of how to make a film work. Not "Manos." There is not a single shred of competence to be found anywhere in it. It fails on every conceivable level: direction, acting, script, cinematography, sets, costumes, effects, sound, music. Throw in some of the most irritating and idiotic characters you'll ever see, a lot of disturbing sexual subtext, and the result is this pile of cinematic excrement.
The story...well, I guess it's supposed to be one of those "innocents get lost and stumble upon supernatural evil" deals. Actually, it's more like an "irritating family gets lost and stumbles upon a group of vague cultists and their creepy hired hand Torgo" deal. Anyway, things happen, arguments go in circles, the mom of the family yells for her husband so much you wonder how she ties her shoes in the morning without him, the husband makes so many wrong decisions you wonder if he'd be any help with the shoe-tying thing, and the female cultists get into an extended wrestling match, revealing that under their diaphanous Grecian robes they're wearing modern bras and underwear.
There's much more, of course, but "Manos" is like a train wreck, or a natural disaster: I could describe it to you, but you'd never understand the full level of horror unless you witness it for yourself. So go ahead, watch it, I dare you. At least you can take comfort in the knowledge that, after you've seen it, nothing else you watch will be quite so bad.
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