#thehumancentipede

Most embarrassing episode ever!! In this week’s episode we divulge our most embarrassing,and shocking television or movie pleasures.

As well as, if you can’t remember the last time you had to go to the movie theater and actually pick up your “pre-sale” tickets because the movie apps on your phone and laptop crashed the minute the Avengers:Endgame, on sale announcement was launched!

The Human Centipede (2009)

★★★★★

Watched 16 Oct 2025

The Human Centipede (2009)—also known as The Human Centipede (First Sequence)—is widely derided as poorly made schlock by critics and audiences alike. The common perception of the film was rather deftly summed up by British film critic Mark Kermode in his review of the sequel. In Kermode's words, the original fails to commit to being either a cerebral body horror movie in the style of David Cronenberg or to being a Troma-style exploitation flick, where shock value is all the film has to offer. Yet both comparisons represent a fundamental misunderstanding of what The Human Centipede is trying to do.

This isn’t a movie made for the horror elite to wax erudite about its supposed literary roots in the work of Nabokov or to indulge themselves in its cinematic allusions to Fellini. Nor is it accurate to liken the film to Surf Nazis Must Die or Tales from the Crapper. Rather, The Human Centipede’s true lineage lies within the classic mad-scientist films of the twentieth century, especially the Frankenstein cycle Hammer produced between 1957 and 1974.

First Sequence follows Dr. Heiter (Dieter Laser), a German surgeon whose name evokes Nietzschean or even fascist figures from history. He is a spiritual descendant of Peter Cushing’s Baron Frankenstein: both men are complete sociopaths who treat human lives as raw material for experiments conducted for their own sake rather than to benefit mankind. But while Frankenstein is treated more as a supervillain capable of functioning in society when he's not engaged in his dastardly deeds, Heiter is completely out of touch with reality. Laser’s performance reflects that; he treats the material with the same seriousness he would bring to performing Ibsen or Shakespeare.

Klaus Dieter Laser (17 February 1942 – 29 February 2020) was a real, seasoned actor with decades of experience in German theater and film in serious dramatic roles, even winning the German Film Award for John Glückstadt (1975). That background shows in how convincingly Heiter comes off as a skilled but mentally deteriorated medical expert; someone not just sadistic enough but delusional enough to try to create the titular “human centipede.”

The self-awareness extends to the script. A human centipede, as described in the film, could not live in that state any more than the recipient of one of Baron Frankenstein’s brain transplants could. Thus, Heiter’s “creation” (essentially three people stitched mouth-to-anus after having their kneecaps removed) begins dying almost immediately. The police arrive to investigate the missing people within three or four days, as Heiter is too far gone to bother disposing of evidence like their abandoned cars. Instead of trying to assuage the law’s suspicions, the wild-eyed doctor attempts to drug the officers, believing he can use them in a new centipede.

This is not poor storytelling. It’s writer-director Tom Six understanding that the psychology of a person who would do this would allow for no conception of consequences. Six was not some schmuck who couldn’t make a movie and instead attempted to throw together an exploitation film to eke out a few dollars from its grotesque concept. Rather, he is an experienced Dutch filmmaker with prior directing experience, including work on a localized version of Big Brother, and he founded his own production company with his sister Ilona in 2001.

This shows in beautiful cinematography (above average not just for horror films but in general), effective sound design, an atmospheric use of its eerie musical score, and the steadily escalating tension. The story progresses in an engaging way, with the protagonists needing to make choices to advance the plot, and its tight pacing ensures the film never feels a hair longer than its brisk ninety-two minutes.

Most filmmakers would have treated the material as just one long, boring torture sequence, similar to Guinea Pig: Devil's Experiment (1985) or, for a more contemporary example, Kōji Shiraishi's Grotesque (2009), which was released the same year as The Human Centipede. Both films ostensibly represent the then-current trend of so-called “torture porn” following in the wake of Saw (2004) and Hostel (2005). While most films in this genre present the audience with little more than escalating degradation, dismemberment, and cruelty, The Human Centipede instead focuses on stakes, suspense, and by the end, even catharsis. It's certain the survivor will be found if the police don't report back, and it's possible that, with prompt medical treatment, she may even survive.

As the film builds to what looks like an edge-of-your-seat climatic showdown, Katsuro (played by Akihiro Kitamura, who, notably, honed his chops in mainstream productions like NBC’s Heroes) defies audience expectations and delivers a surprisingly poignant soliloquy espousing his belief that this fate is divine judgment for his selfish life. This skillful use of misdirection is not limited to the climax but occurs throughout the film. Even the clichéd opening setup—stranded travelers getting lost and entering a mysterious mansion—is there to lull audiences into expecting a more conventional horror film before it goes where it does.

None of this is to imply that The Human Centipede (First Sequence) is in any way “deep.” There’s no profound moral message, no philosophical point-of-view, no themes really, and none of the characters are developed any more than they need to be. The two sequels (the first of which leans almost completely into gory shock value, and the second of which represents a failed attempt at social satire) show that Tom Six does not possess the lofty artistic ambitions of Cronenberg, and thus the comparisons to him are no more warranted than those to Troma are.