Longlegs

The hype for this film has escaped containment more than I expected. Sure, horror fans are a particularly vocal set, and very well represented amongst critics and movie podcasters. So it's not rare for some strange little flick to gain traction, as Late Night with the Devil did earlier this year. But something about Longlegs feels different. Critical reactions have circulated more on social media, highlighting how many reviewers have called it uniquely terrifying. The trailer has been playing before all horror-adjacent films at theaters big enough to screen it. Hell, the theater I saw it at had five preview screenings on Thursday evening, and the first two were nearly sold out. That speaks most strongly to the dedicated horror hounds and other movie nerds who live to see everything that blows through town, of course: I'm not expecting distributor Neon to have another Parasite on their hands. That being said, something about this movie is piquing audience interest in a way uncommon for what was positioned as a low-budget, grimy, summer scare-fest. All without leaning on star power: sure, it has Nicolas Cage, but you never see his face in the trailer, just hear his voice. And leading lady Maika Monroe has never made much noise despite starring in It Follows, amongst the most important horror flicks of the 2010s.

Admittedly, I bought into it. I've discussed being a huge fan of Cage's before, having seen ten of his last fifteen movies, many in theaters. Even just hearing him in the trailer made clear he was doing a Whole Thing, which I always find exciting. But the entirety of the aesthetic drew me in, the somewhat dreamy, lo-fi vibe, the super 8 filmed memories, and the severe creepiness. It was one I've been looking forward to for months, and the recent buzz only intensified my feelings.

In a lot of ways, it delivers on its promise. Cage plays the titular "serial killer", slaughtering families whose daughter was born on the 14th of the given month. The catch is that he's not the one pulling the trigger: most often, it's the father who kills the whole family, then himself. There's no trace of Longlegs at the scene, not even any DNA, just a cryptic message left behind written entirely in a hieroglyphic cipher. He speaks in a weird, breathy, broken voice, often sounding like an unstable circus clown trying desperately to entertain a child. Save for the times he bursts out into song, which is somehow even more discomforting while simultaneously quite silly. Adding to the apprehension is the way he's hidden for nearly the first half of the film: there are quick glimpses of him, the back of his head, even his chin, but we don't see him in full until the events he's responsible for have been quite well established. That reveal is pretty gnarly, although I'd be lying if I said it was all that arresting. It's not what you'd expect, but somehow perfectly fits the character he's playing.

Much of the tale we experience from the perspective of FBI Agent Lee Harker (Monroe), who seems to have some special ability to sense his presence and the presence of evil more generally, which is emphasized by the first time we see on screen. The idea she may have some psychic ability is touched on early and never again, leaving that potentially interesting thread underdeveloped as director Osgood Perkins slowly shifts his focus from Longlegs to Lee's relationship with her mother Ruth (Alicia Witt). To be clear, it's the case itself which brings us and Lee to that point, unearthing family secrets which instigate a change in the way the two women relate to each other. As the murders all involve families with daughters, it was inevitable that a central theme on Perkins' mind would be the trade-off between doing what's best for your children and doing what's right. To say nothing of Longlegs' relationship to the profoundly unsettling, hand-crafted, life-sized dolls he creates.

This is my first exposure to Osgood Perkins, so I'm just learning how bananas good at shot composition he is. There are some stunning blocking decisions, incredible uses of camera zooms that happen just a little too fast so as to make them uncomfortable and anxious, and many medium shots which convey Lee's isolation and vulnerability through framing, your eyes searching the screen for the threat you know much be present. The choice to set apart memories through a postage stamp aspect ratio hovering in the middle of the screen is more meaningful than it first might seem, rendering it a more effective decision than in many other similar films, and affords us a few really neat instances of that framing melting away. The content of those shots themselves lend the whole movie a tense atmosphere from start to finish. It's the kind of movie where every scene feels shrouded in mist, even as they're so beautiful and deliberate as to showcase all the details of the production design. While I don't know I found any individual moment fulfilled the promise of giving me nightmares, there are absolutely a few images that will live with me for years to come, especially concerning the dolls.

As is so often the case with the wilder films I enjoy, where it really falters is the ending, not quite able to bring everything home in a satisfying way. As we approach the climax, it falls back on the frustrating technique of bluntly explaining the mechanisms to the audience, instead of providing hints or little snippets while leaving much of it open to interpretation or inference, and thus remaining that much more terrifying. To be fair to Perkins, he's doing so in order to highlight the themes he's actually interested in at the expense of what the audience might care about; it's not a decision born of laziness or poor writing, it's just that it doesn't work, sapping the momentum built up over the story, and renders much of it more meaningless and bland. Which in turn kind of makes the events of the film feel somewhat hollow, all that gathering tension for something so limp. Yes, there are a few neat bits to tie up a few of the loose ends, but the number left dangling is hard to ignore. This all combines to retroactively make the story less compelling, although the style remains undeniable.

Monroe does a great job embodying a new FBI agent who feels out of place, aided by the costuming department in feeling like a kid playing dress up. Her laconic, almost passive demeanor is very fitting for the tone Perkins is going for, and contrasts quite nicely with Cage, who's going hog wild, albeit more Color Out of Space than Sympathy for the Devil. Much of his screentime is small and awkward, feeling like a bashful little boy. But the moments where he gets to let loose are a delight, such as one particular scene in his car, even as they stand out against the rest of the film. They force you think about why his character was written this way, an early sign that this guy is no genius, so something strange must be going on for him to be so successful at terrorizing his community.

You'll know from the very beginning if Longlegs is speaking your language. It's a very odd duck, albeit a well-crafted one. The tone is consistent in its oppression, the filmmaking is superb, and it's full of one big swing after another. There are a few jump scares but not an overreliance on them, rendering the ones that do exist very effective. Instead, it sets the stage and lets your imagination run wild, giving you space to fill in the gaps in whatever dark, twisted way it pleases, and provides a steady stream of haunting imagery as kind suggestions. But the terror at its core is more existential: family acting on your behalf without consulting you, and doing so in the most horrifying way possible.