Manos: The Hands of Fate ★★★★

Stripped of annoying wisecracking robots this is not only an inscrutable piece of anti-cinema but also a glorious piece of accidental outsider art, an unnerving, arrhythmic ocean of crummy tinkly jazz, desolate sets, murky shadows, and weird Freudian sex panic misogyny. Awkward shot lengths and jump cuts, blurred focus, and stilted out-of-sync-dialogue merge into this sustained, ugly seepage of dread, inadvertently conjured by sheer ineptitude and a spring-wound 16mm camera's operational idiosyncrasies.

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