Short Reflections from the Silver Screen: The Human Centipede

The-Human-Centipede

The Human Centipede: First Sequence

Netherlands. 2009. Tom Six.

Whenever I reflect on this movie, I feel my inside organs coil and wretch. It truly is sick. Yet what continues to amaze me is Tom Six’s audacious ability to bring his utterly perverted idea to life with such a powerful execution.

Not for one moment does this film strike a vocal cord for laughter (often an easy escape route for horror), instead I remained engrossed inside the world of The Human Centipede. This is respectably due to Dieter Laser’s harrowingly impressive performance as the mad and clearly off-color scientist who speaks like a Nazi. He revels at his operational work in an introverted manner under his umbrella of sheer perversity.

Can such a film appeal to anyone other than exploitative midnight horror freaks? I believe anyone who is brave enough to turn up or press play will be locked in for the sick ride. But, how can one possibly accredit such a film? It may pull many outside their comfort zone, but it beckons an achievement in emphatically opening up the dark artistic soul of its director.

 

The Human Centipede: Full Sequence

Netherlands. 2011. Tom Six.

If there ever was a way to make a sequel unique and truly perverted, this is the one. I was inevitably left completely grossed out, but still intrigued by the clever concept this film toys with.

Fat and troubled loner Martin (Lawrence R. Harvey) is obsessed by the movie (the First Sequence). It ignites a drive and dream deep down amidst his black and warped soul to create his own 12-person centipede – overshadowing the great German scientist (his icon) by times four. Almost without any hesitation, Martin begins to collect his victims, bashing them over the head with a wrench, and realise his sick fantasy as it transcends unnervingly into his own reality.

What follows is enough masochism and wounds to the head to enflame the greatest of ‘shock’ cinema fans. Shot in black and white (actually looking quite nice), the blood isn’t so repulsing rather it is Martin’s true sense of perverted pleasure and vile domesticity that unearths the skin.

It is a fine piece of exploitation cinema, but perhaps give it a miss if you found the First Sequence too much.

 

*All reflections are from my film journal.

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