Longlegs had all the ingredients to be a new horror classic: a chilling premise, an enigmatic villain, a strong cast, and an atmospheric visual language that drips with dread. And for brief stretches, it really does strike a nerve. There are scenes that genuinely got under my skin. But ultimately, Longlegs feels like a masterfully dressed house with an empty core. Conceptually it’s razor sharp, even terrifying at times, but the execution just doesn’t live up to the hype that’s been building around it.

It’s the kind of film that sticks in your mind visually but struggles to hold emotional weight or narrative momentum. You leave the cinema impressed by its ambition but not entirely satisfied by the experience.

Story & Themes

At its core, Longlegs explores the psychological weight of generational trauma, female intuition, and the blurred line between inherited evil and external influence. The story follows an FBI agent drawn into a string of ritualistic murders, each tied together by cryptic symbols and an unnerving sense of supernatural presence.

Where the film excels is in its thematic exploration of dread as something inherited rather than experienced. There’s this unsettling throughline that suggests evil doesn’t just act, it waits, it festers, and it passes itself down like a genetic curse. Those are big, ambitious ideas. But the film presents them more as mood than message. It hints at these depths rather than diving into them, and that’s where the frustration creeps in. You can feel the weight of something profound beneath the surface, but it never quite lets you grab hold of it.

The narrative unfolds in fragments, which works well to build mystery early on, but by the final act, it begins to feel more like narrative evasiveness than true suspense. There’s atmosphere in spades, but the story loses its grip on clarity and pacing.

Character & Performances

Maika Monroe carries the emotional centre of the film with her performance as FBI agent Lee Harker. There’s a quiet determination in her character, but also a kind of haunted stillness that works perfectly for the film’s tone. She does a lot with very little dialogue, using her eyes and body language to communicate fear, doubt, and obsession.

Then there’s Nicolas Cage as the titular “Longlegs.” His presence is absolutely unnerving. Cage completely transforms himself here! Physically, vocally and emotionally. He doesn’t overact. Instead, he leans into something colder, something that almost feels outside of human behavior. It’s disturbing in the best way. But even with that, the character never becomes fully understood. He’s an image, a mood, a symbol of evil, but not a person. That works for the horror, but it limits the emotional payoff.

Supporting characters, including family members and colleagues, mostly orbit around the main dynamic between Harker and Longlegs. They serve the atmosphere but aren’t deeply fleshed out. You get the sense that the film wasn’t trying to explore character depth as much as it wanted to build a chilling, mythic tone.

Cinematography & Visual Storytelling

This is where Longlegs really shines. The visuals aren’t just pretty, they tell you so much about the characters and the story. The framing often isolates characters within the environment, showing just how trapped or insignificant they are. You’ll see wide shots of barren landscapes or empty rooms, making you feel like the characters are completely alone in a world that’s turned its back on them. The camera watches more than it moves. It lingers, often letting a moment breathe just long enough for your imagination to spiral. The framing is tight, oppressive. Backgrounds are used with surgical precision, often hiding just enough to leave you paranoid about what’s out of view.

‍Visual Aesthetics
The film plays heavily with pale colour palettes, washed-out midtones, and cold shadows. There’s a deliberate desaturation that drains life from the screen, making even daylight scenes feel bleak. The use of red in certain key moments is also striking, turning those shots into pure psychological violence.

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Storytelling through Cinematography
Much of the story is communicated through stillness. The way a figure is positioned in a doorway, the slowness of a pan, or the absence of light in a hallway becomes the language of tension. It avoids cheap jump scares and instead creates discomfort through negative space and silence.

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Camera Work
‍The camera movements are deliberately slow and methodical. This isn’t a film that rushes through its scares. Instead, it lingers, making you hyper-aware of the smallest details in the frame. There’s a lot of tension built through long takes and tracking shots, where the camera follows a character down a hallway or into a room, making you feel like you’re being pulled along with them. When things do escalate, the camera reflects that chaos. Handheld shots and sudden pans add to the feeling of disorientation, especially during the film’s most intense sequences. It’s a mix of control and unpredictability that keeps you on edge throughout.

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Cameras Used
The film was shot primarily on ARRI ALEXA Mini LF cameras for the digital footage and supplemented with ARRICAM Lite for sequences that required a more textured, filmic look. The combination gives the film a unique visual dynamic that shifts depending on the mood of the scene.

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Lenses
Lens choices were another standout. The ARRI Signature Primes provided a crisp, clean look for the more grounded moments, while Cooke S4/i lenses added a slightly vintage warmth that softened the more surreal sequences. The frequent changes in focal length helped play with depth of field, isolating characters while blurring the environment into something dreamlike, or nightmarish. The often use of  long lenses, which compress the image and heighten feelings of surveillance and claustrophobia.

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Special Techniques
‍While the technical execution is impressive, the frequent changes in aspect ratio were a gamble that didn’t fully pay off for me. Switching between widescreen and 4:3 seemed to be aiming for a thematic point, but it often felt like a stylistic choice that called too much attention to itself.

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Use of Space & Environment
This is where Longlegs really shines. The way the environments are used to heighten the tension is brilliant. The sprawling, barren fields feel isolating, while the tight, suffocating interiors make you hyper-aware of every creak and shadow. The framing often leaves negative space, daring you to look for something lurking in the background or to brace yourself for something that never comes.

It’s a clever way to keep the audience on edge without needing constant action or effects. The environments feel alive, almost as if they’re part of the horror themselves.

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Consistency & Intent
‍The cinematography in Longlegs is clearly ambitious, but it’s not always consistent. At its best, it draws you into the story and amplifies the dread. At its worst, it feels like it’s trying too hard to be different, which ends up pulling you out of the experience. The constant changes in frame dimensions are the biggest offender, they make it hard to stay fully immersed in the world of the film.

That said, I can respect the intent. It’s clear that the filmmakers wanted the cinematography to feel like a character in its own right, and there are definitely moments where it succeeds. It’s just not as seamless or cohesive as it could have been.

Sound & Score

The sound design in Longlegs is crucial to its impact. Silence is used as a weapon here. At times, you’re leaning in just to hear ambient noise, and then, a deep mechanical rumble or distant cry drags you back into dread. It’s not a jump-scare type of score. It’s much more insidious. You feel the sound rather than just hearing it.

The score itself leans into industrial textures and dissonant chords. There’s almost no melody, just a constant, shifting sense of unease. At times, it reminded me of Under the Skin or even Hereditary in how it uses sonic discomfort as narrative tension. It’s one of the strongest elements in the film.

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Conclusion

Longlegs is a visually ambitious film that takes some big swings with its cinematography. While there are moments of genuine brilliance, especially in the way space and light are used to build tension, the overall execution feels a little uneven. The changing aspect ratios and some of the more experimental camera work, while unique, ultimately detract from the experience for me.

That said, the technical mastery behind the scenes is impressive, and the film still manages to deliver a haunting atmosphere that sticks with you.

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