Having just sat through what is almost certainly one of the most disgusting films ever made, and arguing with one person defending it, I have mulled over The Human Centipede II (Full Sequence) for much longer than it deserves. My conclusion is very simple: it is a gigantic, messy gore wank.
About as delightful as having a chunk of dry shit stuck to the hairs on the crack of your ass, this film is an inexorable 91-minute slog through some of the most vile, horrid images ever committed to mainstream celluloid. Not only does it take full advantage of some audience members' desire for boundary-pushing torture porn, it delivers its result in stark black-and-white, which is what angers me more than any other detail. This may sound pretentious and film snobbish, but Tom Six does not deserve the right to shoot in black-and-white. That is a format too gorgeous and precious to be granted to a hack such as him. Many of the most beautiful movies ever made have been shot in black-and-white, and here comes Tom Six to show us a newborn foetus being crushed under an accelerator pedal. Oh goody.
If the film shuffles blindly through its first half (some sequences in which are reminiscent of David Lynch's Eraserhead, a far, far, far, far superior film), its second half is a stumble through some of the most grotesque, sickening sequences of over-the-top coprophagous pornography you will probably ever witness. And it just goes on and on and on...
Tom Six throws in an ambiguous ending in which all that came before it may or may not be in the imagination of its protagonist (we'll get to him in a minute). Now, let me pause for contemplation for a moment: a few shots of ambiguity as an attempt to justify the carnage that came before it does not work, because whether or not the protagonist imagined it, the viewer still had to endure it, defeating the purpose of trying to defend it by suggesting it never happened. As far as we're concerned, it happened. We saw it. So fuck off with your "imagination" bullshit.
Back to the protagonist, whom we learn from a nametag is called Martin. He never says a word and is obviously mentally retarded. It is suggested much stronger than it needs to be that he is an abused, sick individual. His mother wishes he would kill himself (and her while he's at it). She finds him despicable, and loathes the world he has dragged her into. The act of killing her is supposed to be him "breaking free." Again, I disagree with this. She is just as pathetic and contemptible as he is, so I couldn't care less that he bashed her face in and sat her at the dinner table, a la some twisted fucked up Norman Bates parody. Death is preferable for any character in this movie over the other things that occur.
No attempt is made to build Martin's character outside of the "childhood trauma" as well as a fucked up, bearded doctor who dreams of molesting him. He is simply a sick, pathetic tool. Tom Six uses him to act out his hollow faecal fantasies, and nothing more. He says it's "for the fans." Anyone who can honestly sit through this movie's second half and call it acceptable or entertaining must be on a similar or relatively lesser level of insanity to Martin.
I might as well sum up with the point it took me far too many paragraphs to simply get out: it's a porno for people who like shit. I'm off to have a shower, fuck everyone.