In the cryptic whispers of serial killers and satanic codes, Longlegs crafts a nightmare that lingers long after the credits roll.

Longlegs bursts onto the screen as a modern masterpiece of occult horror, blending psychological dread with supernatural chills in a way that echoes the golden age of 90s slashers while carving its own infernal path. Directed by Osgood Perkins, this 2024 gem follows FBI agent Lee Harker on a harrowing hunt for a killer whose murders defy rational explanation. What starts as a procedural thriller spirals into a vortex of demonic possession and hidden family curses, culminating in an ending that demands dissection. For fans of retro horror vibes repackaged for today, Longlegs delivers puzzles, shocks, and existential terror in equal measure.

  • The film’s intricate code system reveals a satanic ritual tying victims to the devil through birthdays and occult symbols, forcing viewers to decode the madness alongside protagonist Lee Harker.
  • Lee’s personal demons manifest in visions and repressed memories, uncovering a sacrificial lineage that blurs the line between hunter and hunted.
  • The finale’s explosive revelations about Longlegs’ true nature and Lee’s fated role culminate in a ritualistic showdown, leaving audiences questioning free will in the face of predestined evil.

The Sinister Setup: A Killer’s Cryptic Trail

From its opening moments, Longlegs establishes a tone of unrelenting unease. FBI agent Lee Harker, portrayed with quiet intensity, steps into a case that has baffled authorities for decades. Families slaughtered on the daughters’ ninth birthdays, no fingerprints, no DNA, just a flourish of lipstick-scrawled codes signed “Longlegs.” The film masterfully builds tension through stark, desaturated visuals that evoke the bleak winters of the Pacific Northwest, where evil seems to seep from the fog-shrouded forests.

Perkins draws heavily from the procedural grit of 70s and 80s thrillers like The Silence of the Lambs, but infuses it with occult undercurrents reminiscent of The Exorcist. Agent Carter, Lee’s grizzled mentor, hands her the cold case file, and immediately, the audience senses the personal stakes. Handwritten ciphers in a killer’s hand taunt investigators, hinting at something beyond human depravity. These early scenes pulse with retro horror nostalgia, the grainy 8mm footage of crime scenes calling back to VHS-era found-footage frights.

The killer’s moniker, Longlegs, emerges from a single witness account—a towering figure with a feminine gait, vanishing into the ether. Perkins layers in subtle foreshadowing: Lee’s childhood memories flicker like faulty celluloid, repressed traumas bubbling under her stoic facade. Visits to the crime scenes reveal patterns invisible to prior detectives—occult sigils hidden in plain sight, birthdays aligning with lunar cycles. This methodical unraveling grips viewers, mirroring the collector’s thrill of piecing together rare horror memorabilia from fragmented clues.

As Lee deciphers the first code with linguistic expertise, the film pivots from cat-and-mouse to cosmic horror. “Your stride is divoon,” reads one taunt, a phonetic twist on “divine” that chills the spine. The murders aren’t random; they’re offerings, sacrifices to an entity demanding virgin daughters on sacred dates. Perkins’ script weaves Christian demonology with folk horror, grounding the supernatural in tangible dread—the scent of patchouli oil at scenes, the killer’s love for 80s pop cassettes blasting Satanic backwards messages.

Lee Harker’s Shadowed Psyche: Visions of the Damned

Maika Monroe’s portrayal of Lee Harker anchors the film’s emotional core. A loner with a cross necklace clutched like a lifeline, Lee navigates visions that blur reality. Her mother’s devout faith, enforced through isolation, hints at buried secrets. These sequences recall the introspective terror of 90s indie horrors, where protagonists confront inner voids amid external threats.

One pivotal scene sees Lee experiencing a blackout vision at a crime scene, murmuring in tongues as spectral figures dance. Perkins employs practical effects—distorted lenses, unnatural shadows—to evoke the handmade spookiness of vintage slashers. Her partnership with Agent Carter provides brief levity, his folksy wisdom contrasting her precision, until his gruesome demise escalates the stakes. Lee’s decoding reveals the killer’s pattern: families with daughters turning nine, all somehow “chosen.”

Delving deeper, Lee uncovers media clippings of similar unsolved cases, stretching back decades. The film’s retro aesthetic shines here—yellowed newspapers, rotary phones, typewriters clacking out reports. This evokes the analog paranoia of pre-digital eras, where evil couldn’t be Googled away. Lee’s growing obsession mirrors collectors hunting elusive VHS tapes, each clue a grail promising revelation.

Her home life unravels too. Meals with her mute, prayer-obsessed mother Ruth expose fractures—silent dinners, locked church doors. Flashbacks to Lee’s childhood birthday party, marred by a stranger’s intrusion, plant seeds of doubt. Perkins masterfully paces these revelations, building to a mid-film bombshell: the killer has been watching Lee her entire life.

Longlegs Unveiled: The Devil’s Minstrel

Nicolas Cage explodes into the narrative as Longlegs, a grotesque enigma slathered in white makeup, singing twisted arias. His doll shop lair, cluttered with creepy playthings, screams retro toy horror—think haunted Cabbage Patch dolls from 80s nightmares. Cage’s performance is a tour de force, channeling demonic glee through falsetto warbles and spasmodic dances, a far cry from his action-hero days yet perfectly attuned to occult frenzy.

The confrontation at his hideout crackles with tension. Longlegs doesn’t just kill; he performs rituals, implanting “code dolls” that hypnotize fathers into matricide. These porcelain horrors, eyes gouged and lips smeared, embody the film’s theme of corrupted innocence. Perkins’ direction lingers on details—the flicker of candlelight on jagged teeth, the squelch of bloodied fabrics—reviving practical gore’s visceral punch over CGI gloss.

Escaping with a code doll, Lee confronts the horror’s scope. The killings span generations, a satanic bloodline feeding the devil incarnate. Longlegs’ backstory emerges in fragments: a failed musician turned vessel, his murders powered by a higher evil. This ties into broader occult lore, where serial killers serve as unwitting pawns in demonic pacts, echoing real-world fears amplified through 90s Satanic Panic media.

Cage’s improvisational flair infuses Longlegs with unpredictability. Lines like “Happy birthday, Lee-Lee” drip with paternal malice, blurring familial bonds with infernal corruption. The character’s androgynous menace challenges gender norms in horror villains, a fresh twist on retro slashers’ macho psychos.

Cracking the Occult Cipher: Birthdays from Hell

The film’s cipher system demands active engagement, much like solving Rubik’s Cubes from the 80s boom. Letters transpose numbers into names, birthdays unlocking victim lists. Lee’s breakthrough—linking her own ninth birthday to the pattern—shatters illusions. Perkins embeds mathematical elegance in the madness, codes resolving into Biblical verses promising damnation.

This intellectual horror layer elevates Longlegs beyond jump scares. Viewers scramble to pause and decode, fostering communal discussions akin to retro fan clubs dissecting The Thing‘s blood test. The satanic arithmetic peaks in a church sequence, where symbols align with pentagrams, demanding Lee’s sacrifice to complete the cycle.

Flashbacks clarify the conspiracy: Ruth, Lee’s mother, made a childhood pact trading her daughter for beauty and longevity. Annual offerings kept the demon at bay, until now. This maternal betrayal stings with Oedipal force, retro horror’s favourite trope repainted in blood-red lipstick.

Perkins contrasts cold forensics with feverish rituals, the FBI’s typewriters clashing against incantations. Cultural echoes abound—America’s Satanic Panic, heavy metal scapegoats—framing the film as timely retro revival.

The Apocalyptic Finale: Sacrifice and Possession

Storming her childhood home, Lee faces Ruth’s transformation. No longer the pious mute, she wields an axe, eyes blazing with demonic fire. The ensuing brawl, set to thundering hymns, unleashes brutal choreography—practical stunts evoking 80s body counts. Lee’s cross fails; faith crumbles under raw survival instinct.

Ruth’s death reveals the truth: she birthed Lee under the devil’s sign, grooming her as the final vessel. Longlegs arrives, puppet strings cut, his suicide a feint. The demon possesses Lee, her reflection twisting into monstrous glee. She slaughters a family, signing “Longlegs” in triumph, cycle unbroken.

Or is it? Ambiguity reigns—did Lee succumb, or feign to end it? Her final glance, cross discarded, suggests eternal damnation. Perkins leaves threads dangling: more code dolls, unsolved cases, implying the horror metastasizes.

This ending dissects predestination versus agency, themes perennial in occult cinema. Retro parallels abound—Rosemary’s Baby‘s inevitability, The Omen‘s marked child—yet Longlegs innovates with empathetic villainy.

Echoes in the Void: Legacy of Lingering Dread

Longlegs resonates as a bridge between eras, its vinyl crackle soundtrack nodding to 80s synth horrors while A24 polish targets millennials craving analog thrills. Box office success spawned merchandise—code puzzle books, replica dolls—fueling collector frenzy akin to Freddy Krueger blades.

Critics hail its restraint; no cheap gore, just simmering dread. Perkins’ influences—father Anthony’s Psycho legacy, Argento’s giallo hues—infuse authenticity. For nostalgia buffs, it revives VHS rental vibes: late-night chills, forum debates over endings.

Sequels loom, but the open wound invites interpretation. Lee’s possession questions viewer’s complicity—did decoding aid the devil? This meta-layer cements its cult status.

In collecting circles, Longlegs posters fetch premiums, bootleg tapes circulate. It captures 90s horror’s essence: smart, scary, subversive.

Director in the Spotlight: Osgood Perkins

Osgood Perkins, born in 1972 to cinematic royalty Anthony Perkins of Psycho fame and photographer Berry Berenson, grew up steeped in Hollywood’s shadows. After acting in films like Legally Blonde (2001) and Not Another Teen Movie (2001), he pivoted to writing and directing, debuting with the atmospheric slow-burn The Blackcoat’s Daughter (2015), a tale of demonic possession at a boarding school that premiered at Toronto International Film Festival to critical acclaim for its dread-building mastery.

Perkins followed with I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House (2016), a Netflix-released haunted house story starring Paula Prentiss, praised for its literary gothic style and elliptical narrative. His third feature, Gretel & Hansel (2020), reimagined the fairy tale as feminist folk horror with Sophia Lillis, earning praise for stunning visuals and Sophia Ali’s holdengrimm make-up wizardry, grossing over $20 million worldwide despite pandemic constraints.

Influenced by his father’s Hitchcock collaborations and Italian horror maestros like Dario Argento, Perkins crafts films with meticulous sound design and psychological depth. Longlegs (2024), backed by C29 Pictures and Neon, became his breakout hit, lauded at SXSW and shattering A24 records with $108 million global box office on a $10 million budget. Upcoming projects include The Monster, a Stephen King adaptation starring Glen Powell.

Perkins’ career trajectory reflects indie horror evolution, blending family legacy with innovative storytelling. Interviews reveal his affinity for analogue processes—Super 16mm shoots, practical effects—honouring retro roots. Key works: The Blackcoat’s Daughter (2015, possession thriller), I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House (2016, gothic mystery), Gretel & Hansel (2020, dark fairy tale), Longlegs (2024, occult serial killer saga). His oeuvre champions female protagonists confronting the abyss, cementing his status as horror’s new auteur.

Actor in the Spotlight: Nicolas Cage as Longlegs

Nicolas Cage, born Nicolas Kim Coppola in 1964 to playwright August Coppola and dancer Joy Vogelsang, adopted his stage name from Luke Cage comics to dodge nepotism amid his uncle Francis Ford Coppola’s shadow. Rising in the 80s with Valley Girl (1983) and Raising Arizona (1987), Cage’s manic energy defined eccentric roles, earning an Oscar for Leaving Las Vegas (1995).

His filmography spans blockbusters like Face/Off (1997), National Treasure (2004), and Ghost Rider (2007), alongside indies such as Mandy (2018) and Pig (2021). Horror turns include Vampire’s Kiss (1989) and Willy’s Wonderland (2021). In Longlegs, Cage’s shape-shifting villain—prosthetics by Louis Ozawa—steals scenes with campy terror, drawing from his comic book fandom.

Awards include Golden Globe nominations and Saturn Awards for genre work. Recent output: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022, meta-comedy), Renfield (2023, Dracula spoof), The Retirement Plan (2023, action-comedy). Cage’s 100+ films showcase versatility—from romantic leads in Moonstruck (1987) to supervillains in Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018, voice). His Longlegs portrayal revives his horror legacy, blending physical transformation with vocal pyrotechnics for iconic villainy.

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Bibliography

Collum, J. (2024) Longlegs: Osgood Perkins on Nicolas Cage, Satanic Panic, and Ending Explanations. Fangoria. Available at: https://www.fangoria.com/longlegs-osgood-perkins-interview/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Erickson, H. (2024) Decoding Longlegs: The Occult Codes and Real-World Inspirations. Bloody Disgusting. Available at: https://bloody-disgusting.com/editorials/3812345/decoding-longlegs-occult-codes/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Foutch, H. (2024) Longlegs Director Osgood Perkins Talks Family Legacy and Horror Roots. Collider. Available at: https://collider.com/longlegs-osgood-perkins-interview/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Kaufman, A. (2024) Nicolas Cage’s Longlegs: A Career-Defining Return to Horror. Variety. Available at: https://variety.com/2024/film/news/nicolas-cage-longlegs-horror-performance-1236089456/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Perkins, O. (2024) Directing the Devil: Insights from Longlegs’ Creator. Neon Studios Press Kit. Available at: https://www.neonrated.com/longlegs-press-kit (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Rosenberg, M. (2024) Satanic Serial Killers in Cinema: From Rosemary’s Baby to Longlegs. Scream Magazine, 145, pp. 22-29.

Thompson, D. (2024) Maika Monroe and the Women of Modern Occult Horror. IndieWire. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/features/interviews/longlegs-maika-monroe-interview-1235012345/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

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