Halfway through Longlegs, I was wondering how in the hell it took me so long to watch it. But I was also thrilled; thrilled that I’d unknowingly withheld such a gift from myself but was finally now opening it and absolutely loving what I’d discovered inside.
Why does that happen with some films, where we overlook them right from the start? I think for me with Longlegs, it was how the combination of the theatrical poster and title played in my mind. Something about Maika Monroe being cartoonishly shocked by something we can’t see while wearing a lanyard just didn’t do it for me. Shirt tucked in to highlight those long legs? No thank you, maybe much later!
Then I think I overheard someone, somewhere, through the grapevine or on the internet or lord knows where, say something along the lines of “it wasn’t scary” and “wasn’t what they expected” and that turned me further off. But here I am, halfway through Longlegs and I’m contemplating how our own minds can fall prey to such heresy and bullshit.
I didn’t even know Nicolas Cage was in this movie until the opening credits, and I’m loving what he’s bringing early, and this mix of light clairvoyance and the occult is building oh so sweetly.
The second half of Longlegs? Not so good. Not so good at all.
We got something about dolls causing familicide, the classic “I’m so freaky and deranged, I’m gonna bash my own face to a pulp on a hard surface” bit, mom gets DEEPLY drawn into it, and the man downstairs needs his triangles.
When the curtain fell on a gleeful Nicolas Cage telling the camera to “Hail Satan!”, I was glad this was part of my subscription service and not another case of me blowing money on a rental.
It turns out our minds ability to innately drive us away from things for years is actually a real blessing. Still, it’s a fun movie.
The North End 
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