The Human Centipede

There are many reasons why I love my sister and many more reasons why I love that she lives just a few minutes away from me. One such reason is that she lends me her DVDs.

Since my sister's husband bought her 'The Human Centipede' on Blu-Ray, I could think of little else other than borrowing it. I envy her in the respect that horror has a very natural place in her household. Her husband and her teenage daughter are huge fans of all things gory, shocking and dark. For me, my love of horror has been more of a solitary occupation.

My big, hairy, sensitive husband admits to having fainted during a heart dissection in a school biology lesson and my 13 year old is just the jumpiest person I know, barely making it through an episode of Dr Who. Taylor is easing herself gently into the genre (currently reading Stephen King's 'IT') but she will only watch horror films during daylight hours. So, I wait until my husband is away for whatever reason and the children are in bed or otherwise occupied before I indulge my desire to watch decapitation, dismemberment and general bloody mayhem.

I confessed to my husband last night that  I could think of little else other than borrowing my sister's latest gourmet serving of the macabre. I think it is a real testament of his devotion to me that he was on the phone to my sister's husband in a heartbeat, asking if he could drive over to borrow 'Caterpillar Man'!

The film was marvellously grotesque, the basic premise being that a deranged eminent doctor specialising in conjoined twin separations fulfils his sick fantasy to engineer human Siamese triplets, surgically linked mouth to anus in a fashion giving rise to the film's title. The doctor was horror text book weird and creepy. The chinese man victim who becomes the head end of the mad doctor's vision was wonderfully noble and determined and the fact that he did not speak English so his frantic, screaming outbursts were subtitled somehow leant realism and made it more hard hitting.

My husband remained at my side for the duration of the film and did not complain or exhibit any behaviour that would have detracted from my enjoyment. I love him for that. I think he saw it as an opportunity to assess the quality of the Blu-Ray DVD (we had to borrow Taylor's Playstation 3 to play it) compared with regular DVDs in order to make an informed decision as to wether or not to invest in a Blu-Ray player for us. Even with a critical eye on picture quality rather than content, he was not able to hide his repulsion when the doctor examined the oozing pus of the infected surgical wound on the face of the last human link in the 'centipede' chain!

The part of me that takes delight in how far the makers of horror films have pushed the boundaries of good taste was not disappointed. The much bigger part of me that loves to be uplifted by the demonstrations of my husband's love was thoroughly satisfied. As a bonus, it looks like we will be investing in a Blu-Ray player.

It is not uncommon for my husband  to call me from work 'just to hear my voice'. I always enjoy these little moments of connection. This morning he called me. I thanked him for indulging me last night with 'The Human Centipede'. His voice took on the pitch usually reserved for times of extreme emotion as he declared:

"I woke up this morning and I still was a little disturbed by people being forced to eat other people's do-do."


That's my man!