It looks like I’m in the minority on this one, but I thought Tom Six’s The Human Centipede (Full Sequence) was a hilarious jab at the critics that have condemned him since the first film back in 2009. While it does come off as beating a dead horse to no end, it’s still a piece of art that one shouldn’t be taking too seriously. Yet, all the things I admire about the Franken-film, are all of the things critics appear to be slamming. To each their own, I guess.
You’ll find my positive review here, with David Harley joining the likes of Brad McHargue with his highly negative review beyond the break. I seriously cannot wait until October 7 to see what you, dear Bloody Disgusting readers, have to say! – Mr. Disgusting.
With the original presented as a meta-element, the sequel explores the deranged mind of Martin (Laurence R. Harvey), a mentally challenged loner who has a Human Centipede fetish that eventually drives him to connect twelve people ass-to-mouth. Six’s script gives the sweaty, disgusting lead next to no character development, but Harvey – one of the two saving graces of this scatological debacle – gives a performance that defines the word “pervert,” never uttering a word during the ninety minute runtime but squealing and grunting enough to capture the essence of a slimy sexual deviant with a distorted perception of reality. The black and white aesthetic seemingly plays to that idea, capturing the contrast of realities between the two entries in an almost Wizard of Oz-like fashion but, to be blunt, that seems a little too complex for something like Full Sequence. Considering how juvenile and baseless the whole thing feels, its inclusion seems to have the sole purpose of being a punch line in a third act poop joke.
So much focus was given to conceptualizing gags that could potentially be looked upon as the sickest/grossest/most disturbing ideas ever captured on film that things within the universe – one which is supposed to be a more realistic approach to something that’s absolutely impossible – don’t add up. When Martin, who works as a security guard that spends night after night staring at recording camera feeds, begins murdering and kidnapping people that are trying to leave his parking garage (which is, for some reason, limited to one carful per night), an investigative third party never rears its head which leads to the conclusion that the victims don’t have family members that worry about them – or jobs – and London apparently has no police force, giving Martin absolutely no opposition.
The meta-approach is a great idea in concept, but Six drops the ball with Full Sequence. In an attempt to prime us for what will most likely be a crime against cinema when he takes the concept into God knows what direction the next time around, it offers up plenty of empty sequences involving feces eating, masturbating with various uncomfortably textured objects, and unsanitary surgical procedures, but can’t even be considered art. There’s no feeling, thought or emotion coursing through its veins; it’s just Six’s attempt to deliver on the hyperbole and accusations of grossness the first film promised but didn’t deliver. Now that he got that out of his system, he should go make a real movie.
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