Few horror titles are as infamous as The Human Centipede. A title that everyone knows but very few have watched, and for good reason. Even people who’ve never seen it know the premise: a deranged surgeon sews his victims together, mouth to anus, in his opus experiment. It’s a concept that was so shocking that it became internet folklore.

But when I finally watched it a couple of years ago, I wasn’t horrified in the way I expected to be. Maybe it’s because I’m somewhat desensitized to disturbing cinema, or maybe because (despite the reputation) The Human Centipede just isn’t that extreme.

What truly unsettled me wasn’t the content; it was how bad the movie itself is.

Let’s be honest: The Human Centipede is poorly made. The acting feels like something out of a low-budget adult film, and not in a fun, campy way like Terrifier. The dialogue is stiff, unevenly paced, and the subplot involving the police adds nothing of value. It interrupts the tension instead of building on it, and when those characters inevitably die, it’s hard to care.

There’s potential buried somewhere in this premise, or at least, I like to think so. A truly grotesque, psychological horror about obsession, control, dominance, and dehumanization, but the weak performances and flat direction squander it. Even the infamous “body horror” that happens in the film feels strangely tame. Rather than push the limits of discomfort, the film chooses to focus on character dynamics that don’t hold up under scrutiny.

If there’s a redeeming element, it’s the ending. The final image of the one surviving girl, Lindsay, trapped between two corpses she’s sewn to. It’s bleak and genuinely haunting as we hear muffled sobs throughout the credits. It’s the one moment where the film’s premise actually lands with any emotional weight.

Those who know me personally know I’ll defend The Human Centipede (!), as a concept. It could have been one of the greats in body horror history if handled differently.

Good body horror succeeds when it fully commits, when it dives headfirst into its grotesque nature, and really makes you feel it. The Human Centipede hesitates. It’s more concerned with the character “connection” than the surgical horror it promises. By the time the centipede is formed (at the end of Act 1!), the movie has already peaked. The rest is just repetitive suffering, not storytelling.

Compare that to The Human Centipede 2, which I think actually gets it right. It’s grimy, dirty, and genuinely, utterly revolting. Exactly what the first film should have been. Shot in black and white, the sequel follows a disturbed fan of the original who tries to recreate it without any medical skill or precision. The result is a chaotic, disgusting, and surprisingly (!) effective piece of transgressive horror.

Its ugliness works in its favor, and the lack of “polish” feels intentional. It’s (I personally think) artfully revolting, where the original just feels (...) awkward.

If I were to remake The Human Centipede, I’d build suspense before revealing the horror. Don’t show the creation so soon; I would let the audience’s imaginations do the work. Spend more time teasing the surgeon’s obsession, his preparations, and his madness. The horror of anticipation is always more powerful than the horror of exposure.

Once the centipede is formed, there’s nowhere left for the story to go. The rest becomes a drawn-out endurance test (which is boring rather than scary).

The Human Centipede could have been great. The idea is disturbing enough to earn a place in horror history, but the execution is clumsy and uninspired. Rather than pushing boundaries or exploring psychological horror, it settles for shock value. And even that feels half-hearted.

The Human Centipede isn’t horrifying because of what it shows. It’s horrifying because of how mediocre it is.