I Just Saw

I just saw Longlegs and it was really good. It has one of the best minimalist prologues that I’ve seen in a while, ruthlessly exploiting the child’s POV to create a haunting moment without any violence at all. It also begins with a quote from the classic rock band T-Rex that informs both the prologue and what follows in creepy, unsettling ways.

This is the new horror film from Osgood Perkins, son of Anthony “Norman Bates” Perkins. He’s carved out a niche in tricksy, psychological-cum-supernatural movies. He clearly knows a bit about and appreciates the genre more than someone like, say, Ari Aster, whose work in horror – Hereditary (2018), Midsommar (2019) – was clearly just a prelude to the arthouse project (2023’s Beau is Afraid) that he wanted to make, caring about analogy rather than occultic tropes and themes, really.

The plot sees a psychic FBI agent (Maika Monroe) investigate a serial killer known as Longlegs, who’s been operating for decades and whose crimes seem at first to be cases of murder-suicides where the father kills his family before taking his own life. Letters left in code, however, indicate the presence of a third party. Who showed up out of a clear blue sky and somehow managed to make completely normal men do the unthinkable…

Nicolas Cage is a producer on Longlegs and also stars in a role that rides the razor’s edge between authentic character work and unleashed gonzo weirdness. It’s a very “Nicolas Cage” performance that may elicit a smile or laugh but is also genuinely creepy and compelling. He seems like the sort of scuzzy weirdo whom parents have nightmares about finding in their child’s company.

The filmmaking is so rich in atmosphere that you could wade through it. Though it utilises a few more “scares” than I’d like, its true scariness comes from the world it evokes, a standard suburban America of the ‘90s (you can tell the period by the portrait of Bill Clinton in the FBI offices) with the Devil lurking somewhere in the details.

Monroe’s performance is pitch perfect, each of her jittery movements and expressions evincing an expert control of characterisation. Perkins injects a sense of humour into proceedings that encompasses her as well, including a shot where she bonds with a colleague’s daughter, which got a big laugh from the audience I saw the film with.

The story starts to taper off a little for me as its mysteries are revealed. Without spoiling anything, I’m not a big fan of when crime/horror films of this type lead their central plot back to the protagonist, making them more than just the detective investigating. The Silence of the Lambs (1991) would have been a lesser film if it turned out that Buffalo Bill and Hannibal Lecter knew both each other and Clarice Starling since the latter was small.

The problem is that plotting like that is too clever for its own good, and exposes the story for what it is: a screenplay construct. Elsewhere, there are one or two character decisions from Monroe that feel a bit ropey and eyebrow-raising.

Otherwise, though, this is high-quality horror fiction that’s well worth your time for both style and substance.

Rating: 3/4