Manos: The Hands of Fate
Oh ye gods. So, once upon a time, Boot and I were talking. As things do, the topic of conversation drifted to the subject of dodgy movies, and naturally, which movie was the worst we'd seen. Now, at this stage for me, it was probably Tokyo Gore Police, a movie with shit acting, shit plot, shit effects. Mr Boot, on the other hand, offered Manos: The Hands of Fate as his contender for the throne of Worst Movie. Having finally downloaded a copy of the fucking thing, because I can't find it in Australia, I'm going to have to give him some sort of prize next time I'm in Melbourne. It might be a punch to the face, it might not. Let's find out!
So, lets begin. A deadshit by the name of Michael is driving his family around in the desert. Lacking the ability to navigate paved roads, he instead opts for the dirt option and ends up at a dodgy homestead somewhere. There he is greeted by Torgo, a man who apparently wishes he was a satyr but instead looks like a gimp. Torgo informs them that the house belongs to the Master, and that he tends the house while the Master is away.
Now, this might just be me, but if I find a house in the middle of nowhere, where the only inhabitant is a freak who repeats himself constantly and goes on about a mysterious "Master", my reaction would be to turn around and take my chances with the highway. Instead, our merry band of idiots decide to impose themselves on Torgos' hospitality. I would like to point out that at no stage is this place advertised as a motel, just a house in the middle of nowhere. So already Michael is aiming for "Jerk" status pretty well. Margaret (the wife) displays startling intelligence for a character in this film by suggesting they leave, but is ignored. Presumably because Michael is a MAN (TM) and won't listen to advice coming from women.
Anyhoo, they fuck round in the now-a-motel for a bit. They find a portrait of some dude with greasy hair and a porn star mustache, who Torgo and common sense informs us is the Master. The group then hear a howl from outside, so naturally Michael goes to investigate. With torch and gun. He finds the family dog dead (who was just inside btw) and relays said news to his family. Before that can happen, however, Torgo attempts to claim Margaret as his own, because he wants her. She naturally freaks, but Torgo says he'll protect her from the Master if she stays quiet. Because the Master wants her also. Michael returns, the car having had its obligatory mysterious breakdown, and they decide to stay the night.
Torgo goes to some place in the desert, where there is an altar with a dude in weird robes lying on it, and a bunch of women standing up against poles. The Master and his wives appear! Torgo rants about how he gets to keep this one and runs off before the Master awakes. Meanwhile, Michael and Margaret go exploring in the dark for god knows what reason, where Michael gets knocked out by Torgo and Margaret goes back to the house. Michael remains tied to a pole for a good chunk of the movie, despite numerous attempts to wake him down the track including rampant slapping.
Meanwhile, the Master rises! His wives have a catfight while he goes after Torgo. Torgo succumbs to some hypnotic power, and the Master returns with Torgo to the altar and breaks up the catfight. Torgo gets massaged almost to death in what was very nearly the pussiest death ever committed to screen or paper, then gets his left hand vaped by the Master. One of the wives gets slapped almost to death and then presumably killed, as Michael takes Margaret and Debbie (the daughter, who was and is pretty much irrelevant) to flee. Margaret has an attack of dodgy ankle syndrome, so they hole up in the house again. The Master appears, Michael tries to shoot the master, and fade to black.
Shortly after, another young couple of women come upon the house, where they are greeted by Michael. He tends the house while the Master is away. Oh dear. Pan out to the altar, where Margaret and Debbie now number among the Masters wives. Given that Debbie can't be older than about 8, that's incredibly fucking creepy.
Right, that's the sorry excuse for a plot out of the way, let's hack into everything else. Firstly, the acting. Oh I'm sorry, there was no acting. Seriously. Go to any given game night in the Cam and I guarantee you will see better acting abilities on display. Michael in particular seemed to be sleepwalking through everything, but frankly, everyone was asleep at the wheel.
Next, and my favourite, sound quality. Now, apparently all the sound and voices were dubbed in post production. And it shows. Environmental sounds don't exist-doors don't make noise, there's no footsteps, even some punches and slaps land in total silence. And then the voices. Oh god, the voices. Apparently they couldn't be arsed getting the actors to voice their own lines, so maybe 3 people did it all. Including the 8 year old girl. And they really do all sound the same. Urgh. Oh, and the constant background music grated on my nerves in a manner not far off having my dick turned into fingernails and scraping that down a chalkboard.
Camera quality! In short, hand held video cameras have done better quality. The picture is incredibly grainy, it's often hard to distinguish characters from background, and sometimes it's hard to distinguish background from anything else.
And lastly, the random shit. At random points in this film, the plot cut away to some couple on a highway in a car making out. They get interrupted by the cops twice, to no effect. And going on a rough timeline, they stayed there making out for 12 or more hours. Also, the random cops heard some of the gunshots coming from the plot, but wisely decided not to get involved at all.
Ok. Now, it might seem that I tore into Godzilla vs King Ghidorah more than this. And to a point, you'd be correct. That movie had the right combination of stupidity for me to get sufficiently enraged to get stuck in. This movie, however, just ate my enthusiasm. It was just so painfully bad, so poorly done that I just wanted it to be over and done with. Everything about this movie just sapped my rage and turned it into this condensed ball of apathy.
So yes, I am willing to join the chorus of people calling this the worst movie of all time. It may not have the rage inducing qualities of other movies, but I cannot think of anything with this combination of technical stupidity and lazy writing/acting.
Oh, one final note-Manos means Hands in Spanish. So technically, this movie is called Hands: The Hands of Fate. That says it all doesn't it?