Longlegs: A Haunting Enigma of Unfulfilled Potential

As the credits rolled and the theater lights flickered back to life, I found myself sitting in stunned silence, my mind reeling from the cinematic labyrinth I had just navigated. Oz Perkins’ “Longlegs” is a film that defies easy categorization, a psychological horror that burrows into your subconscious and takes up residence there, leaving you pondering its intricacies long after you’ve left the cinema.

From the moment the first frame flickers to life, it’s clear that Perkins, son of horror icon Anthony Perkins, is aiming for something beyond the typical genre fare. The film drips with ambition, each scene a carefully crafted brushstroke in a larger, more complex tableau. Yet, as the narrative unfolds, one can’t help but feel that “Longlegs” becomes entangled in the very web of Freudian intrigue it seeks to weave.

At the heart of this enigmatic story is FBI agent Lee Harker, brought to life with raw intensity by Maika Monroe. Her performance is nothing short of mesmerizing, a masterclass in vulnerability and quiet strength. Monroe peels back the layers of Harker’s psyche with surgical precision, exposing the character’s frayed nerves and deep-seated fears with unflinching candor. As we watch Harker navigate the increasingly chaotic and surreal world around her, Monroe’s nuanced portrayal grounds the film, providing an emotional anchor amidst the swirling madness.

And then there’s Nicholas Cage as the titular Longlegs. Cage’s involvement in the project felt like a siren’s call, promising a tour-de-force performance that would push the boundaries of on-screen menace. Yet, as the film progresses, one can’t help but feel that this promise remains tantalizingly unfulfilled. Cage’s character is an exercise in minimalism, his presence more felt than seen, his motivations shrouded in an impenetrable fog of mystery. It’s a bold choice that leaves the viewer’s imagination to run wild, filling in the gaps with their own fevered speculations.

The script, unfortunately, proves to be “Longlegs‘” Achilles’ heel. Perkins raids the horror canon with abandon, stitching together a narrative that feels like a fever dream of half-remembered nightmares. All the classic tropes are present – the Faustian bargain, the arrested development of the adult child, the naive female protagonist thrust into a world of unspeakable horrors. Yet none of these elements are given room to breathe, to fully develop into something truly meaningful. The result is a sense of disjointedness, a feeling that we’re watching a collection of fascinating ideas that never quite coalesce into a cohesive whole.

The pacing, too, is a double-edged sword. At times, “Longlegs” revels in slow-burning tension, allowing dread to build like a pressure cooker. Then, without warning, it veers into frenetic chaos, leaving the viewer scrambling to keep up. This unevenness can be jarring, breaking the spell of unease that Perkins works so hard to cast.

Yet, despite its flaws – or perhaps because of them – I found myself inexorably drawn into the world of “Longlegs.” There’s an undeniable atmosphere of creeping dread that permeates every frame, a sense that something unutterably wrong lurks just beyond the edges of the screen. The rural setting, with its vast, empty landscapes and isolated communities, feels like a character in its own right, a nod to the classic horror films of yesteryear.

Visually, “Longlegs” is a feast for the eyes. The cinematography captures the eerie beauty of the rural landscape with a keen eye for detail, each frame composed with the care of a master painter. Shadows loom large, threatening to swallow characters whole, while brief moments of brightness feel like a gasp of air before plunging back into the depths.

The film’s attempts at humor are perhaps its most polarizing aspect. These moments of levity feel jarringly out of place, like a sitcom writer’s idea of edgy humor transplanted into a gothic nightmare. Yet, in their very incongruity, they serve to heighten the overall sense of unease, reminding us that in the world of “Longlegs,” nothing is quite as it seems.

As I left the theater and stepped out into the night, I found my mind still firmly ensnared by “Longlegs.” It’s a film that feels like a rough draft of something truly extraordinary, a fascinating but flawed experiment in horror cinema. With a tighter script and more judicious pacing, it could have been a masterpiece of modern horror. As it stands, it remains a compelling curiosity, a film that will undoubtedly spark heated debates among cinephiles and horror aficionados alike.

In the days since viewing “Longlegs,” I’ve found myself pondering what might have been. What if Perkins had taken a more focused approach, honing in on the themes and ideas that truly resonated? Would the film have been more effective if it had committed fully to its Freudian intrigue, rather than trying to incorporate every horror trope under the sun?

Yet, as I continue to turn these questions over in my mind, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps the film’s imperfections are part of its charm. Maybe “Longlegs” is meant to be a bit messy, a bit uneven – a reflection of the chaos and unpredictability of the human psyche it seeks to explore. After all, aren’t our own nightmares often disjointed, operating on a logic all their own?

In the end, “Longlegs” serves as a poignant reminder of the power of horror cinema to challenge and subvert our expectations. It may not be a perfect film, but it’s an undeniably fascinating one, a testament to the enduring power of the genre to captivate and unsettle us. Like the best horror films, it lingers in the mind long after viewing, a haunting presence that refuses to be easily exorcised.

For those willing to embrace its enigmatic nature and look beyond its flaws, “Longlegs” offers a richly rewarding, if occasionally frustrating, journey into the heart of darkness. It’s a film that demands multiple viewings, each return visit promising new insights and fresh horrors. Whether it will be remembered as a cult classic or a noble failure remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: “Longlegs” is a film that won’t be easily forgotten.

Should You Watch Longlegs?

Longlegs is a film that will appeal to:

Fans of slow-burning, atmospheric horror like The Witch (2015) or Hereditary (2018)
Viewers who enjoy complex, thought-provoking narratives like Primer (2004) or Mulholland Drive (2001)
Those who appreciate nuanced performances and character-driven storytelling like The Silence of the Lambs (1991) or Misery (1990)
Enthusiasts of horror cinema who are looking for a unique, if imperfect, viewing experience like The Blair Witch Project (1999) or The Babadook (2014)

However, Longlegs may not be the best fit for:

Viewers seeking a more fast-paced, action-oriented horror film like Saw (2004) or The Conjuring (2013)
Those who prefer horror films with a more straightforward, easy-to-follow plot like Halloween (1978) or A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)
Fans of Nicholas Cage looking for a showcase of his signature style, like Leaving Las Vegas (1995) or Adaptation (2002) (he’s underutilized in this film)
Anyone expecting a polished, perfectly executed horror film like Get Out (2017) or A Quiet Place (2018) ( Longlegs has its flaws)

Longlegs is a cinematic enigma that’s not for everyone. If you’re drawn to atmospheric thrillers that delve deep into the human psyche, its slow-burn narrative and haunting visuals might captivate you. However, if you prefer fast-paced horror with predictable scares, you might find it a bit too cerebral. Ultimately, the decision of whether to watch Longlegs is a personal one, depending on your tolerance for ambiguity and your taste for psychological horror.