A mysterious naked man (played by director José Mojica Marins) emerges from the sea and proceeds to perform a series of miracles, curing a crippled woman, rescuing a girl from abduction and her mother from rapists (the grateful woman rewarding him by dressing him in Indian robes), protecting an adulteress from an angry mob, saving the life of a seriously wounded girl, and bringing a man back from the dead. Known only as Finis Hominis, the man is regarded by many as a Christ-like messiah, and, when he announces his imminent departure, crowds flock to hear him talk.
But where does Finis Hominis disappear to after his sermon? All is revealed at the very end of this cult oddity, but getting there is no easy feat, End of Man being one hell of a bizarre experience and a rather tedious one, even by José Mojica Marins' standards (and despite a fair bit of sex and nudity throughout). A scatter-shot narrative, imagery that randomly switches between colour and black & white, low production values, an eccentric choice of music, terrible pacing, and moments of pure insanity make the film hard to endure (if you make it past the orgiastic hippies singing 'Hey-ey-ey-ey-ey-eya-eh!', then you're doing well!).
I do, however, have some admiration for Marins' unwavering cynicism and general disdain for humanity: he takes a swipe at the whole hippie movement by depicting them as phonies who will happily abandon their ideals for money, reveals the morally outraged to be hypocrites, portrays the government as suspicious and manipulative, and, with the film's final twist, shows blind followers of religion to be fools. If anything, Marins is a man who sticks to his guns and doesn't give two hoots what anyone else thinks of him.
But where does Finis Hominis disappear to after his sermon? All is revealed at the very end of this cult oddity, but getting there is no easy feat, End of Man being one hell of a bizarre experience and a rather tedious one, even by José Mojica Marins' standards (and despite a fair bit of sex and nudity throughout). A scatter-shot narrative, imagery that randomly switches between colour and black & white, low production values, an eccentric choice of music, terrible pacing, and moments of pure insanity make the film hard to endure (if you make it past the orgiastic hippies singing 'Hey-ey-ey-ey-ey-eya-eh!', then you're doing well!).
I do, however, have some admiration for Marins' unwavering cynicism and general disdain for humanity: he takes a swipe at the whole hippie movement by depicting them as phonies who will happily abandon their ideals for money, reveals the morally outraged to be hypocrites, portrays the government as suspicious and manipulative, and, with the film's final twist, shows blind followers of religion to be fools. If anything, Marins is a man who sticks to his guns and doesn't give two hoots what anyone else thinks of him.