There aren't that many movies that have a reasonable claim on "worst film ever" status, but the wooden, sleazy, dimly-lit detritus that is "MANOS": THE HANDS OF FATE is one of them. (For my money, it's worse than PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE or THE ROOM, but not quite as bad as MONSTER A GO-GO! or THE BEAST OF YUCCA FLATS, which are probably my two all-time turkey nominees.) This poorly-dubbed, poorly-directed, poorly-filmed mess nonetheless has a weird charm to it, thanks to the bizarre mish-mash of tones, and a couple of performances (Tom Neyman's unhinged Master, and especially John Reynolds as the uncomfortable, strangely-voiced, twitchy, yet oddly sympathetic Torgo) that have a kind of anti-charisma that makes them compelling in spite of the whole movie. That's part of why, after being resurrected into the public consciousness by Mystery Science Theatre 3000, MANOS became a genuine cult classic.
This memoir tells the story of the film from the perspective of Jackey Neyman (Jones), who played the hapless child character Debbie. It's full of detail and stories of the actors, the production, and of course, the erstwhile impresario behind it all: community theater enthusiast and silver-tongued salesman Hal P. Warren. You'll never see MANOS quite the same way again.
The later sections, with Jackey's life after the film and what happened following the MST3K episode, are thinner and less rewarding. But, if you're a fan of Joel & the Bots, Z-grade movies, or the midcentury community theater scene in El Paso, you shouldn't miss this quick, breezy read.