The Manitou is the third San Francisco-set horror movie to make it to the countdown this year, and it's also the most bonkers. I mean, this movie has everything: Neck tumors that are actually babies; babies that are actually tiny Native American medicine men; levitating grannies; lasers; gratuitous nudity; Tony Curtis.
Curtis plays Harry Erskine, a sham fortune teller who may actually have the gift. Or is it just a coincidence that his ex-girlfriend, Karen (Susan Strasberg) has a tiny Native American manitou growing on the back of her neck? For a good 30 minutes of the movie, she doesn't seem that concerned about the thing. At least, it doesn't prevent her from taking more than one cable car ride around San Francisco, before hoping into bed with Harry in his Russian Hill apartment.
When doctors can't get near the tumor without getting tossed against walls, or burned by lasers, it's up to the likes of Burgess Meredith, as an anthropologist, and Michael Ansara as medicine man John Singing Rock (note: Ansara was not a Native American, he was actually Syrian) to figure out what to do.
I won't give away what that is, but the ending is truthfully one of the craziest things I've ever seen. This is a movie that just defies any kind of grading system. Is it one star? Is it all the stars?
Yes. Yes it is.
I watched The Manitou on a Blu-ray from my library, but it's also available to rent online.
2 comments:
And another added to the never-ending watchlist! Thanks!
Always happy to be of service!
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