Longlegs is a scarily entertaining triumph with spectacular performances, anxiety-inducing cinematography, and rich, unafraid storytelling.
“Mommy! Daddy! Unmake me, and save me from the Hell of living!”
I’ve been looking forward to Longlegs for a long time. The teasers were hellish in a way that almost made me want to giggle, giddy with excitement and anticipation, and I had so much faith in its quality that I did everything in my power to bring as many people with me as I could. I ended up seeing the movie with more than 10 of my friends, and I’m so glad to say that it did not disappoint in the slightest.
The description does not do a lot to tell you what the movie is about, and I would recommend you go in as blind as you can. At its most basic, the plot follows FBI agent Lee Harker (Maika Monroe) and her boss, Agent Carter (Blair Underwood), as she hunts down a serial killer by the name of Longlegs (Nicholas Cage). Longlegs’ specialty is killings where he doesn’t seem to be present at all: murder-suicides that take down a whole family. All that’s left of him is a cryptic, occult letter written in a strange code on a birthday card. Avoid spoilers as much as you can, as I try to do in this review.
One of the film’s biggest strengths is its beautiful, anxiety-inducing camera work. The shot takes its time, moving slowly and almost leisurely through ominous sets like it’s taunting the viewer. It even drags while following behind Lee as she navigates around her environment, showing the viewer what she’s seeing seconds after she first sees it. Each new set location, each change in perspective, and each extra detail of the wall or carpet or room all become something that the viewer wants and is personally anticipating—tantalizing them with revelations and answers that don’t arise until you’ve been on the edge of your seat for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to let go of your breath.
When the camera isn’t dragging its feet following Lee, it’s aimed just over her shoulder, right over her back. As the viewer, we are almost always able to see in the forest behind her, the empty room, or her house where she left the lights on in her study. It builds paranoia and dread, adding to the sense of omnipresence that Longlegs seems to have. Is he around that corner, in the kitchen behind Lee when her back is exposed? Everything you want to see is held in front of you like a dog waiting to play fetch, and everything you fear seeing is there, hiding, only to reveal itself with scares that are rewarding and well-earned.
I think in many cases, this tension is ultimately rewarded at the end in an unusual but nonetheless satisfying way. For comparison, in Hereditary, there is one moment where Peter is sitting in his room in the dark, and you know the evil is there, but you’re not quite sure where it is. You stare into the dark of his room—it's the middle of the night, lights out—and then you see it, hiding in the shadows: the exact thing you were so scared of but also the exact thing you were looking for. Longlegs, in a way, turns that idea on its head. In a few stressful moments, the shot twists away and follows a new subject, intentionally obfuscating the area of the setting that I feared the most, forcing me to look away from the evil.
That is not to say that Longlegs is a movie that punishes you for looking; there is plenty to spot if you are observant. Viewers have noticed hidden details and easter eggs all throughout the shadows. There’s also the impossible to ignore motif with triangles: they come up multiple times in Lee’s investigation, in the code, in notes, and even in part of her training as an FBI agent. Beyond picking up on symbolism, the film doesn’t always hide the danger from the viewer. The most horribly gratifying moment of the film for me was when an adversary appeared on the edge of the screen, barely visible but slowly moving closer to our protagonist, slowly, slowly, slowly, in a way that didn’t quite seem human.
The movie’s sense of supernatural and magic was also one of its most compelling elements, which came as a surprise to me since I thought it was going to be more a straight procedural à la Silence of the Lambs. The movie is able to achieve this balance likely because it completely embraces its otherworldliness. Lee’s clairvoyance is introduced very early on with a great scare. After that initial burst of fear, you think, “she was right!”, but as she keeps moving forward, music loud, camera claustrophobic, and danger around the corner, you think, “oh, God, she was right.” It’s both a feeling of dread and magic all at once, a combination that sets the tone for the rest of the movie. The early introduction of unreality also allows for a suspension of disbelief that makes some of the movie’s twists land even more sweetly.
It’s also impossible to talk about this movie without talking about the acting. Maika Monroe doesn’t shine—all of her actions and words seem withdrawn, repressed—but vanishes into the role in the most fantastic way. One of the trailers for the movie was about her heartbeat upon seeing Nicholas Cage in the Longlegs makeup for the first time, and after having seen the movie—while the reaction is obviously partly a testament to the amazing costume design for the character—it’s more so a testament to how deeply Monroe becomes the character in filming. Her fear is apparent. It comes off of her in waves. She’s someone who has this feeling of foresight—the ability to, 50% of the time, correctly guess the word on the tip of her tongue—but it’s clear that it is something that brings her anxiety. You can feel it through the screen.
Nicholas Cage’s performance also worked really well. Audio was a huge part of why this movie succeeded for me, and his labored breathing and slight wheezing quality to his voice was off-putting. It reminded you of what is most scary about Longlegs: he is human, old, aging, like humans do. Beyond those two, Kiernan Shipka was delightfully creepy, Underwood's grounded and experienced (both in the FBI and life in general) portrayal of an agent paired well with Monroe's naive one, and Alicia Witt delivers what I feel like was the most underrated performance in the movie: meek but endlessly frightening.
The score of the movie was stuck in my head for hours after I got back home. It’s full of dread and anxiety, constantly going up and down and up and down but never changing in its steady rhythm until it does, sending shockwaves through the system: fear crescendos, and it’s a beautiful and horrible feeling.
Treat yourself and go see Longlegs in the theater. It’s baffling, weird, anxiety-inducing, and disturbing with beautiful shots you’ll want to see in their full-screen glory, great performances from genre powerhouses, and a horrible sense of foreboding. While not as completely terrifying as advertisements made it out to be, I believe it is technical perfection: leave your preconceived expectations at the door, and I promise that you will be scared, you will laugh, and you’ll have a great time.
★★★★★
9.7 out of 10
Go see Longlegs in theaters today!
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