There’s no reason to watch Tom Six’s movies. I’ll just say it. The man, as far as I can see, is a haughty self-satisfied tool who has no loyalty to his craft or his fans. And yes he has fans. Honestly! “Human Centipede” bred a legion of torture porn fans convinced Six was on to something with his “artistic” enterprise in to human suffering. In reality Six has admitted his idea of Human Centipede is far-fetched. He doesn’t even stand by his film, often mocking it with hushed snickers. And now we have “Human Centipede II,” a meta-movie that shows Six’s general disgust and discontent for his fans. Here, the movie he made is really a movie and the world we live in is a black and white cesspool. His one true fan is a bulbous, obese, perverse, man-child who does nothing but revel in human suffering because he’s trying to manifest the Human Centipede for himself.
So not only does Six mock his own film, but mocks the fans for liking his films, and mocks the people who didn’t like his film. Concurrently he even mocks himself for creating such an absurd idea. So why should we invest time in Tom Six’s films when it’s clear he’s throwing words in to paper with a general approach that he really just doesn’t give a shit? Mainly because we need artists in the world and Tom Six is a man who may just convince movie buffs he’s an artist. When in reality he’s not. He’s merely a phony. A posturing self-congratulatory imbecile whose film within a film within a film is a wretched absolutely loathsome piece of tripe. Essentially what Tom Six does is create yet another abundantly excruciating movie going experience that channels the likes of “Saw” while camouflaging the first half as artsy thrill seeking when in reality it transforms in to a glorified slasher film for the first forty five minutes.
By the time the second half rolls around it’s even more tired torture porn genre fixations with mean spirited characters, cruelty doled out by the barrels, and an excess focus on human suffering that’s intent to cause us to feel something. What, exactly? I’m not sure. Empathy? Apathy? Curiosity? Loathing? Who knows really? We follow around Martin, a repulsive mass of man who is so disgusted with life that he finds little reason to speak. That may be because Laurence R. Harvey is not an actor but a performance artist, but the film insinuates he’s so adept to suffering it’s a mundane of routines for him. So obsessed with Tom Six’s “Human Centipede” is he that he spends an obscene amount of time watching it in continuous loops and spends the entirety of the movie brutally massacring and kidnapping hapless individuals in the garage he works in, in hopes of creating his own centipede.
Normally I’d be the first to construct a defense for this ilk of film, but “Human Centipede II” has no artistic base, nor does it present any form of statement for the audience to take home with them, thus it becomes a utterly hideous piece of anti-art that works at being as grotesque as humanly possible while posturing the audience to feel morally superior for finding definition in a clearly superficial study in masturbatory violence. “The Human Centipede II” is what’s wrong with modern film today, and it’s a shame we have to be exploited by “auteurs” like Six whose own teenage wanking fantasies have to be put on to film for all to see. A black hole of a film, a void of true art, “The Human Centipede II” is an absolutely excruciating and horrendous ninety minutes that manages to topple the original in cruelty, senselessness and clear lack of storytelling finesse. It’s undoubtedly one of the worst films of 2011.