Recently, Adam Brown put his psychological health on the line to watch a series of films produced by the Wayans Brothers. It seemed daunting, but he managed it, and actually seemed to enjoy some of the films. And I'll be the first to say: As much as I dislike White Chicks, the scene in which Terry Crews sings that Vanessa Carlton song really puts me in a good humor. The man is just charming as hell, isn't he?
I figured I could do the same thing, only on a much more terrifying and grand scale than Wayans Brothers movies. I'd watch the Human Centipede trilogy. Has anyone ever done that? I suspect not, because after seeing Part One, you have no reason to want to see Part Two. And after seeing Part Two, there's got to be something considerably not right with you to want to watch Part Three. And after watching Part Three, I can assure you there will be no sequel. Part Three leads to full Human Centipede lobotomy, and the ensuing inability to even recognize the existence of a sequel, should one ever be made. But anyway, on with the show.
I actually willingly saw the first Human Centipede back when it was released, because the stupid idea of it appealed to me. The idea. The dumb idea I thought it was. Like that movie Teeth, about a vagina with teeth in it, or Rubber, about a homicidal tire. I thought this would be like that -- a kind of silly-ass pseudo-horror film. I didn't know it was actually played in a serious manner, thus destroying any charm the story could or should have had. Plus, I think the lead actor, Dieter Laser, may be legitimately insane. Or highly medicated. Either way, I don't want to meet him.
He got the part after reading the script and immediately sporting a gigantic boner.
Having to watch the movie a second time was less enlightening than the first run, through. Guy wants to make a human centipede because of an inability for even the screenwriter -- a man who makes Uwe Boll look like a Voltron of Orson Welles, Quentin Tarantino, and Akira Kuroswawa -- to come up with a rational reason. Or even an irrational one. He just wants to sew people together ass-to-mouth to make a new thing. A thing which is three people sewn together, ass-to-mouth. Do you know what I want to make? A fuckin' pizza with chicken wings on it that somehow dispenses beer. No asses involved.
Knowing what I was getting into, and the fact that this is actually the best of the three movies -- a sentence which should make your own asshole twitch -- I was able to finish it off completely on that very first try. Even the part when he has the centipede out on the yard, yelling at the man in the lead to poop into the mouth of the next segment with nothing but sincere desire in his voice. God, this movie sucks.
The poop through three people accurately represents the journey the plot takes through three films.
The sequel to Human Centipede goes full arthouse -- by which I mean it's black-and-white. This is how director and cinematic boil Tom Six tries to show depth. I've never met Tom Six, and can't say for certain if he's a terrible man. I simply have his work by which to judge him. Much like how I have the work of the Boston Strangler by which to judge him. In the end, I'd like to have tea with neither.
Part Two goes meta on us and introduces a character obsessed with the first film. And to the actor's credit, he's one of the most repulsive humans I've ever seen, so he was well-cast. A point for Tom Six. The only one he'll ever get.
If Dr. Frankenstein had given life to a pile of 200 overloaded diapers.
I'm reminded right at the beginning that this is an IFC film. For shame. Also, as the movie begins with one character crying into another's ass, I can't help but think that one would simply die right then, as their nose would get clogged and they'd have no way to breathe. Because this is a dumb idea, you see. Anyway, let's keep going.
Does it make sense to say that if this was any other movie, it might be good? That's kind of obtuse, but it's 100 percent true. The frogman in this movie is really good at being awful. It's almost impressive. That the rest of the movie is awful is not impressive, however. I'll give props for the sense of creepy dread you get when you see the frogman holding a baby and you're not sure what's going to happen, except that it'll probably be nothing good. But then later you have to endure his mother finding his Human Centipede scrapbook, which is precisely what it sounds like: a scrapbook dedicated to the first movie. She literally picks through it and reads out all the stupid buzz lines that they used to market the first movie. "100 percent medically accurate??!?" she sputters. It's like the director can't get through a single scene without giving himself a handjob over his own work. "Mouth to anus?!?" she says. And we all nod, because yes, this is the second goddamn movie and we all know this dumb shit already. So please stop reading quotes from the DVD box.
And start reading quotes from the film's Rotten Tomatoes page. Then be ashamed.
We're also treated to several scenes of the main actor in his underpants. Imagine if a 4'10" toad ate John Goodman at the height of his Roseanne career, then put on ill-fitting briefs. That's what's going on here, and it's going on a lot. I had to break here to maintain sanity, get a snack, and then go out and enjoy life for a while.
Back to the grind. Did I mention that the toad man has a doctor who looks like Rasputin and is apparently sexually attracted to him? To the bug-eyed, mentally-challenged, homicidal, nonspeaking, sweaty man who is supposed to be his patient. Oh, and was also sexually abused by his father, because clearly, you can't make a movie like this unless everyone in it is abusing someone or being abused.
Or abusing the audience.
Forty-five minutes in, I have to quit again. In the span of I believe to be 30 seconds, the main character shits himself and a random fat man with a handful of glistening fingers explains -- in no uncertain terms for the audience to understand -- why his fingers are glistening. Am I offended by this? Tom Six wishes he could plumb the depths of madness it would take to legitimately offend me with inappropriateness or vulgarity. No, what offends me is the laziness. I am offended by the schoolyard laziness of it all. This is like that book Butters wrote on South Park about the poop that took a pee. It doesn't mean anything; it's just childish fart jokes. I trade in scholarly fart jokes, thank you.