Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966) 1080p YIFY Movie

Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966) 1080p

Manos: The Hands of Fate is a movie starring Tom Neyman, John Reynolds, and Diane Adelson. A family gets lost on the road and stumbles upon a hidden, underground, devil-worshiping cult led by the fearsome Master and his servant...

IMDB: 1.92 Likes

  • Genre: Horror |
  • Quality: 1080p
  • Size: 1.41G
  • Resolution: / fps
  • Language: English
  • Run Time: 74
  • IMDB Rating: 1.9/10 
  • MPR: Normal
  • Peers/Seeds: 1 / 1

The Synopsis for Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966) 1080p

A family's driving across the country where they stumble across a mysterious house, inhabited by the satyr-man Torgo. When the family decide to stay over at the house, the family's mother is now the object of desire for Torgo and the owner of the house, The Master: a mysterious figure whom dresses in a black robe, decorated with red hands.

The Director and Players for Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966) 1080p

[Director]Harold P. Warren
[Director]Harold P. Warren
[Role:]Diane Adelson
[Role:]John Reynolds
[Role:]Tom Neyman

The Reviews for Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966) 1080p

AAAAHHHH!!!!!!Reviewed byMike Sh.Vote: 1/10

After seeing this movie I ran through the house screaming at the top of my lungs for several hours pausing occasionally only to bang my head repeatedly on the floor. And that was the MST3K version!! Imagine seeing this movie pure and undiluted! It's too horrible to conceive!

Seriously, this movie is not only the worst movie I've ever seen; it's the worst movie I can imagine being made! How could any be worse! Could Ed Wood make such a movie? Arch Hall Sr.? Ray Dennis Steckler? Phil Tucker? I don't think so. None can approach Hal P. Warren, sometime fertilizer salesman and would-be auteur, for producing total cinematic crap!

Now excuse me, I must go wash up. Just thinking of this movie makes me feel filthy all over...

The antithesis to good movies.Reviewed byFlaviusAetiusVote: 1/10

This isn't a movie. This isn't even a home video. It's a home video that aspired to be a movie but crashed somewhere in-between, and plummeted through the abyss to depths unimaginable by the mainstream. Coherence is the film's greatest foe: bizarrity and incompetence its watchwords. This is it, bad movie buffs. This is Manos: Hands of Fate.

Years ago, in the dusty desert outside El Paso, an unknown fertilizer salesman decided to craft a horror film with the assistance of friends throughout the El Paso area, and a legend was born. Armed with $19,000 dollars, a cheap 16mm camera, and absolutely no knowledge of the art of film-making whatsoever, Hal P. Warren set out upon his masterpiece.

There is absolutely no redeeming quality about Manos. There is no directing, the editing appears as if it was done by a blind member of some mud-crawling insect species, the artwork is a stain upon the name of art, the script is a poorly cluttered and illogical joke masking the director's fantasies, the dialog will have you tear out your eardrums with your fingernails, and the acting is so atrocious you will feel as if the movie has violated you. It isn't as bad as Monster-a-Go-Go, but it almost manages to snatch the sorry laurels of worst movie ever made from that Lovecraftian abomination.

Manos must have put good directors like Kubrick or Capra in convulsions during its production: so powerful is the elemental force of badness flowing from every stinking pore of its perverse form. It is the polar opposite to the good movie, the parameters of its illogicity and non-acting existing to defy the borders of taste, and ultimately, sanity. Every grainy, scratchy, blurry frame of the muddy color palette and every sound byte of the poorly synchronized and terribly dubbed dialog offers an entrancing glance into a deeper, darker world of madness that is Manos the Hands of Fate. It is not of this earth. It is not of our dimension. Surely Hal P. Warren was some malfeasant alien god from a realm far removed from our own, hurtling across the icy chasms of space with a vile mission in store for the unsuspecting members of the cinematic world.

Its legacy, however, lives on in the form of Mystery Science Theater. The acid-tipped barbs flew fast and furiously, striking the venerable beast in its countless weak points, crafting from the chaos a comedic gem that approaches cinematic perfection stamped into the world of movies in its own stinking ichor. This is Manos: Hands of Fate. This is the purifying baptism of fire that scourges the detestable vestiges of mediocrity and normalcy from the mainstream viewer and forever makes them a member of the cult world, the world of bad movies and weirdness that cannot be imagined. It is the cornerstone, the figurehead, the mighty totem representing everything that Mystery Science Theater and the legions of bad movie sites across the Web hold dear to their hearts.

Rejoice, connoisseurs of bad movies! Fall upon the dark altar of Manos to pay homage to Torgo and the Master, and forever remember the twisted legacy they wrought from the tangled celluoid! Imitate Torgo's stumbling walk and high-brained drawl, until it fuses with the very core of your being!

One of the finest examples of great auteur filmmakingReviewed byPlutonicLoveVote: 1/10

Equaled in clarity of vision and flawless execution only by the greater works of Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock, brilliant independent film auteur Hal Warren's ?Manos: The Hands of Fate' transcends its genre to do everything that it should and even more. Not only is it riveting edge of your seat entertainment, it also boasts a psychological depth unequaled by any other horror movie, achieved mostly through John Reynold's Oscar-worthy, divinely subtle performance as the tormented, tragically misshapen caretaker Torgo. Part Quasimodo, part Hamlet, this gentle soul's noble end, in which he is massaged to death by a group of terrifying succubae in luscious robes, is unarguable one of the most poignant in motion picture history ? it is both a tragedy and a triumph of the human spirit. Oh, was I alone with a tear in the eye at the end!

Indeed, Hal Warren's masterpiece achieves the perfect balance between the heartrendingly sad, the refreshingly sardonic, and the chillingly satanic. The Master and his hellbeast are as much evil personified as Margaret is the embodiment of goodness and chastity. In a way, this is the definitive modern-day equivalent of Goethe's Faust, though even more sublime in the simple poetry of its dialogue. When Torgo describes his master as being `not dead the way you know it' and `with us always' he is speaking for all of us, how we truly live on through the memory of our words and deeds in the minds of those who follow us, be they righteous or malevolent.

Hal Warran not only changed the face of the Texan film industry by encapsulating such a grand story in less than 75 minutes, it also helped usher in a whole new perspective of looking at film, discovering different forms which never would have been conceived. Also, it's obviously a very personal film for Warren, who allows us to share his love and devotion to the project, and it is a truly moving, cathartic experience.

It will make you laugh, it will make you cry, and maybe ? just maybe ? you'll learn a little bit about yourself.

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