Mind-Warping Horror Series Will Make You Never Trust Technology Again

In order to explain why The Mandela Catalogue is such an unsettling masterpiece, I’ll need to set a scene that will either pique your intrigue or make you never want to watch television again. Imagine it’s three in the morning and you fell asleep in front of your favorite re-run of The Office on cable. You wake up on the couch, and the TV is blaring a public service announcement about how demons are among us, and they will adopt your likeness when you’re the most vulnerable.

At this moment, you hear somebody who sounds an awful lot like you knocking on your front door, asking you to let them in. You turn back to your television screen, and the public service announcement becomes more fragmented as you take it all in, and you swear that you see a warped version of your own face looking back at you.

Is that the vibe you’re looking for? Because that’s the vibe The Mandela Catalogue is absolutely dripping with, and I can’t get enough of it.

There’s no succinct way to lay out The Mandela Catalogue’s multiple plot lines, but a quick rundown is all you need, as talking about its overall aesthetic is more than enough to set the tone.

Set in the fictional Mandela County, Wisconsin, we’re introduced to the concept of “alternates,” who are reported to be demonic entities that can manipulate technology and assume the likeness of their human targets. We learn through the series, which takes place from the 1990s to the late 2000s, that the population of Mandela County has dwindled down to just over a thousand residents despite once being inhabited by tens of thousands.

While your ears and eyes are assaulted by various audiovisual playbacks that are possibly being corrupted by the alternates to further manipulate you, a story about paranormal investigation, faith, possession, and countless missing persons emerges.

At the center of The Mandela Catalogue, we learn about Adam Murray and Sarah Heathcliff; the former being an active member of the Bythorne Paranormal Society, and the latter being the founder. Having received no help from the Mandela County Police Department about the disappearance of her brother at the hands of the alternates, Sarah works with Adam to seek out the truth about what’s really going on in their community. Adam, who is looking for his missing mother, presumably for similar reasons, takes extreme measures to uncover the truth in ways that Sarah doesn’t necessarily approve.

We learn through snippets of text conversations and voicemails that Adam’s ex-girlfriend Evelin Miller, is also seeking out help from Sara due to Adam’s sudden personality change that led to their breakup. Meanwhile we learn about Sarah’s missing brother, Mark, who was tricked by an alternate into visiting his deceased friend’s house, only to be trapped inside, manipulated by the mysterious antagonist, and driven to suicide.

While there are several other plot points to dive into throughout The Mandela Catalogue’s 16-episode run, we don’t need to get into them here, but rather talk about how this story is delivered. Using found footage methods, we learn about most of these incidents through closed-circuit TV monitors, glitching television screens, VHS tapes recovered from video cameras, and recordings of 911 calls. Through these myriad methods of audiovisual storytelling, a full picture eventually emerges yet still somehow leaves you in the dark.

To make matters more terrifying, clips of The Beginner’s Bible play out on-screen, but the old cartoon footage becomes increasingly corrupted with each viewing, suggesting that a demonic presence is at play, trying to force the narrative.

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As you learn more about the alternates in The Mandela Catalogue, the line between reality, perception, and media manipulation becomes increasingly blurred. You’ll find yourself uneasily trying to unpack what’s real and what’s being manipulated within the fiction that this universe creates. Since the alternates can hi-jack the technology that we use every day, you can’t know for certain whether the voice on the other end of the telephone is the same person that was speaking a few minutes ago, which adds a sense of dread to every single exchange in The Mandela Catalogue as it progresses.

While this extreme example of analog horror may not be your cup of tea, its vibe and atmosphere is without a doubt unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. If you’re into found footage horror, but have grown tired of the tried-and-true tropes that have been done to death, then The Mandela Catalogue should be the next thing you watch on YouTube.