[Article extract presented at the Excursions Symposium 9 th June 2014 at the University of Sussex] Redefining the self: The Human Centipede and Physical Spectatorship A tall slim man in a white doctor's coat and knee high leather boots is striding around a leaf-strewn lawn as mist rolls across the grass and around his legs. The wide-angle medium- long shot transforms the space into a stage. By placing the camera and spectator in a distanced position of an audience in the theatre, the shot construction belies the forceful visceral response this particular scene invokes. Central to this stage is a twelve limbed beast made of three people who are attached to each other by their mouths and anuses. Just prior to this moment, the front segment, Katsuro, had begun to defecate, much to his despair. Veins bulge in Katsuro's face and neck, as medium close-ups show his strained resistance against the inevitable. The camera moves down his back to bring into frame the middle segment Lindsay who, with moist bloodshot eyes widened in terror, pushes her hand against Katsuro's bandaged backside in a vain attempt to avoid the human waste that is slowly making its way towards, and into, her mouth and gullet. The towering man continues to pace around the sorry creature, gleefully ordering in a deep and authoritative voice for the front section to 'feed her', and for the middle segment to 'swallow it'. Wet tactile sound effects provide a soundtrack for the bowels over medium close-ups of Lindsay's convulsing throat, her body defying her will as she ingests that which would ordinarily be expelled. As I watch the scene described above for the first time, my fingernails scratch the surface of my desk, and my body rocks back and forth in a futile attempt at self-soothing. I hear the distant whine of a voice uttering again and again, 'I don't want to, I don't want to',