Critico de Cine: Film Critic Slaps Hand on Forehead

MANOS: THE HANDS OF FATE (1966)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

So the Master's' incompetent minion named Torgo (John Markward Reynolds Jr.) has a confrontation with the Master. The Master (Tom Neyman) is some sort of supernatural figure who holds pagan rituals, or maybe just holds a coven of scantily-clad women in white, see-through nightgowns who love to wrestle and slap each other ad nauseam. Torgo's thankless job is to lure passerby in the middle of the desert to a ramshackle rancher that doesn't seem (from the exterior) to contain a spacious room where rituals are held. Anyways, Torgo confronts the Villain With No Name and he wants a wife for himself. The Master knows of Torgo's suspicious activities centering on his wives when they are asleep standing up. Master says he will kill Torgo and basically all he does is stare at him with less than penetrating eyes. Torgo stares back and then slumps on the floor. What a wicked way to die only Torgo is later seen galavanting in the desert behind the Master and a couple of the wives while pursuing the married couple who have stayed at this remote little dwelling. I think the disheveled, hapless fool Torgo, who walks around as if he is trying to shake off the last remaining bits of fecal matter left in his butt, is massaged violently by the nine wives and then loses his hand. Ouch for sure, but not exactly a death.

"Manos: The Hands of Fate" is everything that a movie never is or should be. It is incompetently staged, no scratch that, it is not exactly staged or directed by Harold Warren (his only directorial effort) - the movie just sort of happens due to images recorded with no knowledge of what to do with them. Apparently a Bell and Howell 16mm camera was used that could only record 32 seconds of film footage! Oh, yes, I used such a camera back in the day but I had the advantage of recording almost 2 minutes. The film is beyond shoddy in its washed-out visuals and basic composition - nobody was directed in this movie. The characters look at the camera eye consistently though breaking the fourth wall is not intentional here. Since everything was postdubbed, the syncing of dialogue is occasionally off, though there are times that characters scream yet no screams are heard. A car's ignition is turned on yet the sound is a low hum - the kind of hum you hear when you turn on a 1930's radio. Transitions barely appear - the movie is not cut together, it is merely assembled. The couples' car drives around with no sound of tires heard on the soundtrack, or only when it was conveniently recorded during postproduction. The acting is beyond amateurish - there are actors on screen but little interest in emoting even at the most rudimentary level. John Markward Reynolds, Jr. is fairly decent as Torgo (it is the only actual performance in the movie) - apparently he was high throughout the eight days of production which maybe one needs to be when dealing with a mustachioed guy like the Master who could barely threaten Big Bird. Speaking of the Master, he wears a red-and-black robe with red hands on the front - easily the only imaginative aspect of this unimaginative production.

And yet, even after you know the movie stinks higher than two day old noodles with a touch of ketchup, "Manos: The Hands of Fate" is somewhat memorable though not exactly tolerable. 

Catch Him if You Can

THE INVISIBLE MAN (1933)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

When you hear the cackle, the wicked humor of Claude Rains' Invisible Man (Dr. Griffin), it sends shivers to your spine because this madman couldn't care less about anyone. After about the last twenty minutes of the film, it is clear that the man is a murderer who just wants to settle down with the woman he dearly loves. This is where it becomes almost unsettling to watch "The Invisible Man" because here is one Universal horror film icon who has a murderous lust and gets off on it - he relishes it. Not the Wolf Man nor Frankenstein's Monster nor even Dracula, to a lesser extent, had such homicidal rage. Even the author of which this film is based on, H.G. Wells, found fault with the character depicted as a lunatic. Still, despite the unsuppressed rage of the main character, "Invisible Man" never misses a beat in keeping you glued to the screen. 

Dr. Griffin, in the chilling opening scenes of "The Invisible Man," checks in at the Lion's Head Inn in Sussex, South East England seeking a room. The owners, including the unforgettable Una O'Connor (herself a staple of early Universal Horror), are sure that this head bandaged man must have had a horrible, disfiguring accident and offer him a room. Little do they know that Dr. Griffin is invisible and is not only trying to retain visibility, he is hoping to make a name for himself by adopting invisibility as something that would be useful in a time of war. After making threats and unveiling his invisibility to the Sussex villagers (and to the most famous of screamers of that time, Una O'Connor), Griffin escapes and it is beguiling fun to watch him push villagers out of his path or ride a bike - they are mystified by this mysterious man. But that upbeat fun soon turns serious when Griffin begins killing people, whether it is a police chief or one of Griffin's trusted associates who betrays him. One scene has Griffin derailing a train - a heart-stopping moment among many. It is not until he is back in the arms of his fiancee, Flora (Gloria Stuart), that he is settled, restrained.

Directed with heightened, restless tension by James Whale (which matches Dr. Griffin's own mental state), "The Invisible Man" progressively trembles our viewing experience, served with wicked relish by that most famous voice belonging to Claude Rains. The special-effects are still awe-inspiring especially when Griffin unwraps his bandages to the villagers - it is a shock to the system. Rains's tremendous, terrorizing voice, his cackle, his brutal nature and his occasional brand of prankish humor are not easy to forget. An astounding, edge-of-your-seat film, one of the best of its kind. 

Nazi hideout in Connecticut

THE STRANGER (1946)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Orson Welles tried for many years to get Hollywood financing for his films but proved unsuccessful, considering the omen following the disastrous reception for his beloved 1942 film "The Magnificent Ambersons." "The Stranger" was his first and only attempt at making a commercial, conventional film (though 1958's "Touch of Evil" might have had commercial prospects had it not been shown on B-movie double bills) - the film was a box-office success but somehow it still did not engineer a fruitful Hollywood career for Welles as a director. It is a strangely disappointing film that, at its worst, is impersonal and cold-hearted. Even Welles called it "the worst film of my career."

Orson Welles takes the title role as a Harper, Connecticut schoolteacher named Charles Rankin, who is in fact an ex-Nazi war criminal named Franz Kindler. Rankin is hiding out in a town where nobody would expect to find a Nazi, especially during the late 1940's. Another Nazi criminal, Meinike (Konstantin Shayne), is released from prison and comes to visit Kindler. Of course, an inquisitive war criminal investigator (Edward G. Robinson) follows Meinike to Connecticut and what was once a tranquil town becomes fraught with danger.

"The Stranger" is the kind of picture Hitchcock was known for, having all the necessary suspense and thriller elements in place. We know from the start that Rankin is a Nazi and that he is married to an innocent American girl (Loretta Young) and this invariably creates an atmosphere of tension - too bad Welles doesn't follow through with it. The faults lie with the numerous loose ends and all too neat-wrap up trivializing the intriguing premise (the producers had forced Welles to make several cuts). For instance, how could Kindler's American wife be so forgiving when Kindler confesses to being an ex-Nazi? It doesn't help that Loretta Young as the wife overacts and her pitiful crying and pleas render her unsympathetic. Of course, the investigator realizes from the start that Rankin is Kindler, so why doesn't he have him arrested? After all, the police find Meinike's body in the woods (Rankin kills him in a chilling scene), Loretta's dog is killed by Rankin, etc - all this occurs in the first act. Plus, there isn't a single character whom we can identify with (excluding Robinson's) because nothing believable or plausible happens to any single person in this movie.

There are, however, some fine performances in this muddled mess. Welles plays one of his best villainous roles, and he plays it fairly straight with an icy interior and exterior - only a quiver of a smile hints at any semblance of humanity. Edward G. Robinson is wonderfully restrained as the investigator, and there's ample comic relief by Billy House as Potter, a checkers-playing owner of a drugstore. Only Loretta Young is pathetic to watch and she sinks the movie in the last half-hour with her incessant whimpering and melodramatic panting.

"The Stranger" has some tour-de-force tracking shots through the woods of this amicable town, and there is a recurring emblematic use of shadows to build tension. Once Young enters the picture, though, all credibility goes out the window, and the film is so sloppily edited that the plot structure collapses. "The Stranger" is a flawed, suspenseless, campy thriller seemingly atypical of Welles's forte. See the far superior "Saboteur" and "Sabotage."