Longlegs

Made on a $10 million budget (half of which went to Nicolas Cage) and with a $7 million marketing budget, Longlegs’ $26 million opening is a testament to the value of creative and thoughtful filmmaking.

Longlegs

FBI Agent Lee Harker investigates a series of gruesome deaths connected to a mysterious figure known as Longlegs. As the case unfolds, unearthing evidence of the occult, Harker discovers a personal connection to the merciless killer and must race against time to stop him before he claims the lives of another innocent family.

Longlegs Review

Since their earliest days, horror movies have relied on a handful of essential ingredients to deliver their thrills and chills. From jump scares to disturbing imagery, the only thing that has changed is each film’s specific usage and the degree to which it relies on those ingredients. Over the last two decades, it seems as though the art of eliciting fear from audiences with subtlety and creativity has been largely lost, replaced by the current crop of genre filmmakers’ race to see who can be grosser and more explicit. Enter Longlegs.

With its minuscule budget and cast of unknowns, Nicolas Cage and Blair Underwood notwithstanding, Longlegs harkens back to the days when the cinematographer and score were more essential than gallons of dyed corn syrup and an FX budget to rival a small nation’s GDP. Despite the fact that the film is a little underdeveloped, with far too little Cage, and loses a bit of focus in the third act, by going back to the basics, Longlegs delivers a delicious ever-present tension as the audience sits on the edge of their seats waiting for the shoe to drop.

Its quintessential 70s horror chic cinematography, with long lingering shots framed ever-so-slightly off-center, and director Oz Perkins’s (son of Anthony Perkins – aka Norman Bates in Psycho) keen sense of timing are the film’s true stars. However, its classically understated vintage score and some surprising performances shine nearly as brightly.

Obviously, seeing Nicholas Cage as a demonic serial killer is Longleg’s big draw, and the only disappointing thing about his disturbing performance is its abbreviated nature. He’s one part creepy, three parts demonically terrifying, and all Nicolas Cage. That said, despite having a relatively underwhelming resume of which her turn as President Whitmore’s daughter in the critically panned Independence Day sequel,  Maika Monroe surprises as Agent Harker. With Cage only appearing briefly, the bulk of the film lies on Monroe’s shoulders, and she is more than up to the task.

Even though the outward trappings of her role as an FBI agent combined with the time period in which Longlegs is set, not to mention the film’s tone, understandably invokes parallels to Clarice Sterling and Silence of the Lambs, Monroe’s Harker is wholly its own creature. The actress beautifully portrays the socially awkward agent with a grounded sincerity and realism that precludes what could have easily been a caricature. As such, she is the perfect straight man to the film’s bizarre goings-on.

Unfortunately, Longlegs flounders a bit under the weight of its concept and what appears to have been very limited access to Nicolas Cage. As a result, everyone’s character development is fairly rushed, with Cage’s character suffering the most. It also suffers from a botched reveal of its twist in an unnecessary and redundant montage that’s overlong, overly expository, and completely robs the film’s final minutes of virtually all of its momentum.

In spite of this and a rushed two-dimensional relationship between Harker and a catalyst character, Longlegs dishes out a quick and fun fright night worth seeing.

WOKE ELEMENTS

Lady Cops

• Nitpickers might take umbrage with yet another “strong female” cop-like character leading a film. However, not only have there been female FBI field agents since the 70s, but Lee Harker is a socially awkward mess and not some unstoppable bad@$$ who was clearly written to be a man until studio interference. Her feminity actually adds a nice layer of vulnerability to the story.