Article: Procedural - Longlegs (2024)

I was rewatching Longlegs, and I once again found myself repeating the same two sentences: “Is Nicolas Cage in the wrong film? I think he may be in the wrong film.” I’m not a Nic Cage hater. Francis Ford's nephew is one of the only bankable movie stars still around who is allowed to make big choices in his Hollywood performances. When his performances land, they do so exceedingly well.  However, his distracting performance in Longlegs feels like one of stunt casting. A strange, bonkers performance that feels out of place in the admittedly short amount of screentime that he appears in. Despite this, when my recent viewing of Longlegs finished, I asked myself, “Who else would you put in there? Who would do such a character justice?”

Cage plays the titular Longlegs: a suspected serial killer with a disturbing M.O: The ability to have all members of the families he chooses to be grisly murdered, yet leaving no trace of involvement at the scene of the crime. The FBI are baffled at how a multitude of gruesome killings, spanning over decades, have occurred with not a hint of a solid lead coming their way. Enter Lee Harker (Maika Monroe), a dedicated yet knowingly disturbed agent who is recruited on the case due to being “highly intuitive”. This becomes a substitute for being somewhat psychically clairvoyant. Harker’s apparent gift allows the FBI to start making headway into the case. But as Harker delves deeper into the case, a connection between the killer and the agent is slowly discovered.

That dollop of synopsis may feel like too much of this police procedural is revealed. There’s more than good heft of the film’s plot found there. Yet Longlegs is a horror crime thriller that manages to be rather straightforward, yet bizarrely obscure at the same time. The film, a box-office hit when released in 2024, polarised audiences, to say the least. Nonsensical to some, yet chillingly atmospheric to others. It’s easy to dismiss, because the film seems uninterested in stitching the narrative fabric into something with more grounded logic. At the same time, Longlegs is compelling because it’s an American thriller that feels closest to Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Cure (1997); a film where rhyme and reason are at odds with its stiflingly claustrophobic mood. If the film’s oppressive ambience feels cosy enough for the viewer, they may not be too bothered with how everything is knitted together. 

I’m still unsure if the wool is still over my eyes. Director Osgood Perkins brand of horror is alluring because he has such a tight grip on the film’s environment. For a film which shoots only in wide-angle and medium shots, why do you feel so boxed in? Are the red-eyed film photographs of unfortunate family members a subtle indication of the supernatural bleeding to the surface? Maika Monroe is fascinating as Harker, an FBI agent who is the opposite of Jodie Foster’s Clarice Starling. Unlike the diligent, confident Starling, Harker can barely keep things together throughout. The psychological strain is wedded onto her face so tightly that she seems to be humming with anxiety. As the narrative slowly sinks into its themes of Devil worship, sinful mothers and possession, you can sense the FBI agent pulse with tension with every ongoing moment. With Lee Harker, Perkins has added another compellingly troubled yet vulnerable female protagonist to his steadily growing list. Watching Monroe deduce, detect and wander through each meticulously composed frame is as engrossing as it is eerie.

But then there’s the Nic Cage of it all. 

Cage’s performance is so unhinged it destabilises the film's mood. He’s bellowing out T-Rex songs, but the rest of the film doesn’t seem to be harmonising with him. One bizarre scene has Cage’s Longlegs interact with a young shopgirl in a way that’s somewhat amusing yet feels more akin to Perkins’ own The Monkey (2025). Cage’s outlandishness can often be a good fit in off-kilter material. While it’s easy to laugh at the likes of Vampire’s Kiss (1988), Cage’s manic energy is a perfect foil for that film’s tone. The deranged display that inhabits films like Mandy (2018) is another great example of how to utilise Cage rage. But with Longlegs? It’s difficult to see what other casting choices could be slotted in for replacement. However, this Cage performance is like that of his ill-fated turn in The Wicker Man (2006), when you wonder what could happen if someone dialled down his love of scenery chomping. Maybe something more akin to Alicia Witt’s performance as Harker’s mother. It’s startling to see Witt, the once fresh-faced final girl of Urban Legend (1997), slowly move towards unhinged final boss, channelling Carrie White’s mom vibes. But it’s an enjoyable surprise.  

What’s more debatable is the film’s condensed finale. For some, the film's final third is the moment narrative logic cascades in on itself. A film that was steadily unravelling at the tactful pace of all Perkins' movies suddenly unscrambles in a way that feels as if the film doesn’t want you to think too much about the reasoning behind what’s occurring. Basic questions could have been answered, but Perkins is uninterested in spoonfeeding. So, Longlegs ends with a muted, uncomfortable and ambiguous climax that refuses to give typical closure, but in doing so delivers the kind of uneasy tension that horror fans such as myself are often clambering for.  In a film which markedly features images of two American Presidents, both noted for lying to the American people, the final moments of a deranged maniac cackling Heil Satan while our fragile protagonist watches despondently at a violent aftermath that she has seemingly no power to stop, it’s an illogical yet disturbing finish that rings the right note for America’s current despondent and isolated status in the world.  

Longlegs is available to buy on Amazon Video. 

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Article: Going Gothic – I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House

 If you happen to be the son of the actor who portrayed one of horror’s greatest villains, I think it’s safe to say you probably have a certain measure of pedigree. Oz Perkins, son of Anthony ‘Norman Bates’ Perkins, hit paydirt with the 2024 marketing hype beast that was Longlegs. While the 90s period procedural made pay dirt with a solid advertising campaign which turned heads, it is safe to say that the film polarised viewers with its refusal to bend to typical expectations...or logic. Believe me as a lowly film writer, I have no desire to lie to you. Longlegs doesn’t make complete sense. And yet the film’s interest in “vibes” still makes it a compelling watch with a climax that, while slightly goofy, still harbours one of the most concerning final moments of 2024…if you were down with what Perkins was selling.

The traction of Longlegs (2024) was unexpected. Especially when considering the horror features Perkins directed before it. As a genre director, he deals with deliberate slow burns which grow and build like mould in the corner of a damp room. His films are exercises in extended suspense. Shots get held longer than one would expect. Nothing ever feels conventional, and things are rarely fully explained. I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in The House is in the same wheelhouse as Long Legs or The Blackcoat’s Daughter (2015). It is deliberately paced and uninterested in submitting to the horror status quo.  The film is gothic in its purest form. Taking a past tragedy and having it become a rotting stain or a burnt shadow which never fades. Perkins delivers horror films which linger and infect. Like Session 9 (2001) it suggests that such dread lies dormant in the shadows until the chance arises to infect the weak and the wounded.

Ruth Wilson plays Lily, a live-in nurse sent to a remote house in Massachusetts to look after Iris Blum (Paula Prentiss), an elderly female writer who suffers from dementia. Lily scares easily. With little in the house apart from Iris’ penny thrillers for entertainment, Lily’s imagination, or what appears to be her imagination, begins to play tricks on her. She begins to sense something supernatural is in the house with Iris and herself. Something connected to the books, and possibly events that previously occurred within the house itself.

There’s a layer of chill that rests on the surface of Perkins's film. The jump scares if indeed you can call them that, are mild in their execution. However, Perkins’ use of empty and liminal spaces brings a sense of uneasy stillness, making you wish something should happen to break the suffocating tension. While this may sound like an oxymoron, nothing happens and that’s the point. To a sub-section of horror fans, this film will piss them off. To those who find something within films that deal with the saddening deaths of lonely, forgotten women, they may absolutely find a new favourite film. There’s a subtlety to IATPTTLITH that can really connect with a viewer allows it. The film deals with a narrative of female abuse and loneliness that is as quietly upsetting as it is unsettling. What’s difficult is that not everyone will be able to cling to this theme. Narratively the film is so slight it’s easy to feel that you might have missed something. The film moves from beginning to end in a way that may feel inconsequential in its execution.

But there’s effectiveness in its atmosphere. Some films are louder with their scares but aren’t as disquieting with their sense of dread. Wilson is the perfect actress for this kind of story. A performer whose looks can’t be placed easily within the past or present. It’s easy to absorb her fear as she frets around the house, unsure of herself, or the abode she’s been asked to reside in. A lot of IATPTTLITH works because of how convincing Wilson is. A bundle of nerves, unsure of where to place herself. Either within the house or in conversations. The dominant aspect of Wilson’s performance lies in her creepy narration which slips into pockets of the film, helping to build the unease of the film’s sparse compositions.  

Much like the films of Kiyoshi Kurosawa, the film captures a bleak tone that often resides in the Gothic. We see remnants left by ghosts unable to save others from their possible doomed existence. An elderly woman dying of dementia. Her disease is doing its best to take away her personality and essence at the end of her life. This also leaves Iris unable to fully inform her carer of what may lie ahead of her. Iris’ book that Lily reads, is based on the film's main ghost, Polly and what may have happened to her within the walls of the house, the women are living in. It is mentioned in the book that Polly never gets to elaborate on what occurred to her, although the audience does. She is a woman unable to clarify what happens to her. Lilly also illustrates within the film’s narration, that her story is cut short, with her chronicle to be forever embedded within the house. The weight of dread lies heavy in this collection of stories by women who aren’t allowed to close the book on themselves.

This sad aspect brings out one of Perkins’ strengths as a director. A Lynchian love for his female characters, something also seen in Longlegs and The Blackcoats Daughter. As vague as Perkins' films may be, he still finds reason to tell the saddening fate of these three women. Furthermore, as a horror formalist, he does this with a formidable command of mood. Many will want the film to “do more” with the material. But I Am The Pretty Thing That Lives in the House is much like Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) in that less is more here. The film tells you enough. Possibly even more if you’re willing. But it’s important to note that Perkins wants to envelop people with mood. If you have the patience, the film will reward you. However, you must be interested in what Perkins is selling. You must be willing to get with the vibe.

I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House can be found on Netflix

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