3 Humans, 1 Tract, And A Multitude Of Banner Ads

When banner ads for the DVD release of director Tom Six's notorious mad science tale The Human Centipede first appeared on several of the movie sites I frequent, I paid them no special mind - outside of idly wondering if I'd ever get around to watching this tale of a sicko surgeon with too much time on his hands (I probably won't). But the more I kept seeing them, with their animated diagram of three people on their hands and knees joined in the manner that the film's title promises with the accompanying text of "3 Humans, 1 Tract," it occurred to me that these ads - in which there's even a helpfully illustrative arrow that enters through the mouth of the first person, and moves all the way out the ass of the last person (see below) - were a hell of a thing to be blasé about. I mean, I know that I'm pretty desensitized but when did so much of the rest of the world go down that path, too?

Years ago, a movie like The Human Centipede would've only been known - and whispered about - by the most hardy and dedicated connoisseurs of the bizarre. Only by patronizing the seediest of theaters or scouting the bootleg tables at conventions would one ever come across the likes of The Human Centipede. This is a film that once would've had to fight to exist and then fight even harder to reach its audience. Now it's a freak show that's as easy to obtain as clicking on an ad. You don't have to actively seek this stuff out anymore, you don't even have to be a knowledgeable movie junkie to be aware of it. Someone going to Shock Till You Drop to check out the latest news on Breaking Dawn can be instantly introduced to The Human Centipede. And if you don't buy it online, you'll see it stocked in plain sight on your next trip to Best Buy, or Target (for more on that, check out this recent post from my fellow Horror Dad, Dennis Cozzalio, over at Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule).

I grew up during a time when slasher movies were regularly targeted by angry picketers and were the subject of offended screeds by movie critics. Now, apparently, you can make a movie where people have their mouths sewn to other people's asses and it's no big deal. This doesn't outrage me, it just astonishes me.

Once upon a time, The Human Centipede would've been a strictly underground sensation. Now you can get it out of a Redbox at your local supermarket. What used to be only fit to exist on the outer fringes of cult culture is now part of pop culture. I never would've imagined that a movie like this would be made - and so widely available - with barely a peep of controversy but now I have to think we're not too far off from seeing Human Centipede: The TV Series.

I'm Getting Too Old For This Shit

In contemplating watching writer/director Tom Six's instantly notorious The Human Centipede (now available on VOD), I had to confess to myself that I just didn't feel motivated to check it out. For years, I felt obligated as a fan to see every horror movie that was released - even more so if a movie was rumored to be a boundary-pushing example of the genre. My trips to the video store back in the '80s were all about renting intestine-slinging Italian cannibal gut-munchers like Cannibal Holocaust (1980) or Make Them Die Slowly (1981). If it was "Banned in 31 Countries," I was on it. I wanted to see the most offending footage that filmmakers had to offer.

These days, as I approach middle-age (or maybe I'm already there) my appetite for the extreme isn't what it used to be. The idea of watching The Human Centipede feels like committing to a burdensome chore rather than welcoming the opportunity to enjoy some potentially taboo-smashing entertainment and I have to wonder why that is. Why am I watching Stuart Gordon's Dolls (1987) for the umpteenth time when The Human Centipede is readily available? Maybe it's just that given the limited time I have to watch films on my own - when my wife and son are otherwise occupied - I don't want to waste time watching something I feel I'm not likely to enjoy. After all, life is too short.

When I was a teenager, the appeal of extreme horror lay - at least partly - in that there was some bragging rights to be found in watching films that were past the comfort zone of my family, friends or classmates. On an adolescent level, it seemed cool to be hip to films that grossed other people out. Some of these films were well-made in their own right but more often they weren't and the only point in watching them was to be able to say that I did and hope that someone would be impressed. As a teen, unless you're lucky enough to be well-adjusted and happy with yourself, I think you're always doing things to push people away but at the same time trying very hard to make them notice you.

If I were fifteen again, I know I'd be chomping at the bit to see The Human Centipede but I'm pretty far from fifteen. I feel like The Human Centipede is a movie that unless you feel as if you're getting away with something you shouldn't be by watching it or reveling in exposing some unwitting soul to it (or both), it just isn't much fun. Adding to my reluctance is that I've heard from a number of people that the movie, ultimately, is much tamer than one would expect. If I'm going to take the time to watch a movie where someone has their mouth sewn to someone else's ass, it better be the absolute last word on the subject. I don't want to watch The Human Centipede and then find out that a more extreme version of it was made six months later in Korea or something.

I might watch The Human Centipede eventually if the time presents itself and I'm in the right mood (what mood that would be, I don't know) but I have a feeling I won't. Had the distributor offered a kitschy VHS release like was recently offered for Ti West's House of the Devil (2009), however, that shit might've been enough to sucker me in. Selecting The Human Centipede on my VOD menu just doesn't feel right. It's too banal. To my mind, The Human Centipede is a movie that needs to be found in a mom and pop video store in an oversized box with a garish illustrated cover. You know, something along these lines:

Even on VHS and with appropriately sick cover art, I still might have never watched The Human Centipede but hey, at least I would've felt pretty cool about loaning it out.