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[REVIEW] ‘Longlegs’ Is A Pitch Black Tour De Force Into Outer Darkness

Set sometime around the 90s, a serial killer is ripping through rural Midwestern America. His modus operandi is a paradox, and his crimes are a series of inhuman massacres that leave no survivors and no clues. The only hint as to who the killer is is a score of cipher-riddled letters, and the name they’re signed with: Longlegs.

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With the right atmosphere, and the right performances, some films are lucky enough to immerse you, to have you neck high in a sensation as its cinematography laps against your suspension of disbelief. Oz Perkins’ latest venture, Longlegs, forgoes the slow sinking feeling after its first thirty minutes and prefers to drop you directly into an ocean of dread. It drags you under tides of hopelessness that don’t stop smashing against your body until the final frames of its last reel.

Set sometime around the 90s, a serial killer is ripping through rural Midwestern America. His modus operandi is a paradox, and his crimes are a series of inhuman massacres that leave no survivors and no clues. The only hint as to who the killer is is a score of cipher-riddled letters, and the name they’re signed with: Longlegs.

While Longlegs is very clearly evoking genre titans like Silence of the Lambs and Rosemary’s Baby (heavy on the Demme), the film’s cinematography is nothing like its inspirations. Something about the way the entire film is framed and lit has this kind of aura of shadow pricking at the corner of your eyes for the entire runtime. Even in well-lit environments like FBI building interiors with their sickly flourescents, and wide-open bright exteriors blanketed in pure snow, it’s the visual equivalent of feeling fingers ever so close to your skin but never making that contact.

Those environments and the sets that make them up are designed and decorated to be suffocating; there isn’t a single inch of the world Perkins and company has built that feels clean or safe, reflecting the ever-present danger of Longlegs and the places that he leaves possessed by his actions. It’s of course underpinned by an understated score that creeps into your ears and doesn’t hammer in anything that the film isn’t already making you confront head-on.

This is all in service of a soul-sapping performance by Maika Monroe, carrying a haunting air around her as FBI special agent Lee Harker. She plays the character, a stony and disquieted rookie, with this trembling intensity that worsens as the case falls into madness. There’s liquid torture coursing through her veins particularly hard in the final act, with this stage presence that feels like fishhooks getting into you as you feel her unease vicariously. Monroe has always been a horror movie darling, loved by fans for her work first in It Follows and later The Guest, though the hordes of general audiences flocking to theatres this weekend and next are about to discover the new “it girl” of mainstream horror.

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Nicholas Cage is also, as expected, quite good as the titular killer, though any comments on how he achieves this betray my desire to send you in almost completely blind. He makes for a bizarre and skin-crawling antagonist, despite the performance sometimes veering too hard into the territory that Ted Levine’s work as Buffalo Bill already charted (more simply put, Cage emulates the best of Levine, and its close, but no cigar when you look back on the template he’s working off of). The cherry on top is a short performance bordering on a cameo by Kiernan Shipka, who worked with Perkins previously on the impeccable 2015 feature The Blackcoat’s Daughter. Surprisingly, her appearance is one of the film’s best moments, so I can’t say anything else about it at risk of spoiling it.

A scene early on in the film where Harker is lured out of her home by a silhouette in the woods is the perfect metaphor for this film’s story: the plot is a mystery that feels much more like a slow walk into gnawing outer darkness, rather than a twist-filled whodunit you have to unpack. It doesn’t have you laboring over its mystery, it’s not overly clever with its network of hints and clues of which there are very few. And its final third rather plainly smacks anybody who doesn’t understand what’s going on in the face with all the answers they could want. I would say it was jarring, and very well it might be on rewatch, but the monologue that does it (along with the voice that’s carrying it to your ears) is so perfectly paired with the film soundtrack and visuals that I didn’t really notice, and frankly I still don’t really care.

Note that the final act of Longlegs will play out exactly how you expect it to if you’re paying close attention. But this isn’t to deride it or call it predictable; this is to let you know you’ll become horribly aware of what is going on just as our main character is only starting to get it, striking you with a very nasty dose of dramatic irony that acts fast. By the time the clock is run down, there’s no relief or comfort to be found. Longlegs is dyed-in-the-wool in its refusal to let you feel anything other than restless uncertainty. It’s a tour de force, and the end of its path is nothing but a study of esoteric evil, and cold discomfort hoping to kill all warmth that might help you escape it; a study that you’d do well to see for yourself.

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Luis Pomales-Diaz is a freelance writer and lover of fantasy, sci-fi, and of course, horror. When he isn't working on a new article or short story, he can usually be found watching schlocky movies and forgotten television shows.

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[REVIEW] ‘The Dead Thing’ Takes Ghosting To A Whole New Level

The Dead Thing follows Alex (Blu Hunt), a young woman who works late hours, lives by the rays of a sunlamp, and is looking for the one connection that will make life seem less cyclical. When Alex meets Kyle (Ben Smith-Peterson), it seems like things will finally be going in her favor. But all that glitters is not gold. As quickly as he came, he vanished. Hurt, confused, and pissed, Alex tries to get to the bottom of why Kyle disappeared from her life. Some stones are meant to be left unturned.

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Elric Kane has been a prominent voice in the film and horror space for a long time. One of my fondest memories of Kane is his longtime hosting gig on the Shock Waves Podcast. The amount of film knowledge and obscure films I learned about from him and Dr. Rebekah McKendry singlehandedly fueled my interest in collecting physical media. Hearing how passionate and intense they were with their love of the genre is also what started me down the path of writing. While Dr. McKendry has previously dipped her toes in the feature filmmaking game, it’s now time for Elric Kane to do so.

Cut to: The Dead Thing.

The Dead Thing follows Alex (Blu Hunt), a young woman who works late hours, lives by the rays of a sunlamp, and is looking for the one connection that will make life seem less cyclical. When Alex meets Kyle (Ben Smith-Peterson), it seems like things will finally be going in her favor. But all that glitters is not gold. As quickly as he came, he vanished. Hurt, confused, and pissed, Alex tries to get to the bottom of why Kyle disappeared from her life. Some stones are meant to be left unturned.

Writer/director Elric Kane’s (and co-writer Webb Wilcoxen) singular debut feature film is a superbly crafted supernatural spectacle. The Dead Thing starts slow and deliberate; rather than rushing into an overwritten plot with underwritten characters, Kane and Wilcoxen allow the audience to sit with Alex in her neverending love life. One aspect of Alex that I, and hopefully many will, appreciate is how Alex is written. Rarely does Alex feel written from the perspective of the male gaze. Her life may not be going in the exact direction she wants, but the film never makes it out to be a her problem. At no point do they try and make Alex out to be a floozy or condemn her for the life she’s living, instead they make those who live the same kind of lifestyle feel seen. The film asks the audience if they ever feel like there’s no escape; too many of us can relate to that.

It doesn’t matter how a character is written if the acting doesn’t deliver, and Blu Hunt delivers. Set aside the fact that she has one of the most badass names I’ve ever heard, Hunt provides an astounding lead performance. Whether she’s walking alone down a Los Angeles street, or playing off of her longtime friend Cara (Katherine Hughes), coworker Chris (John Karna), or the mysterious[ly handsome] Kyle, Hunt gives it her all. It helps that Ben Smith-Peterson and the supporting cast all give overwhelmingly brilliant performances.

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Supernatural stories aren’t usually my go-to. They can be too overwritten, too style over substance, too “elevated”, or just plain boring. The Dead Thing quickly finds its footing and lets the audience accept it or not. Kane and cinematographer Ioana Vasile (who was a still photographer for Pontypool!!!) wonderfully capture the sometimes-solitary, sometimes-overstimulating beautiful hellscape that is Los Angeles. It should also be noted that one of my favorite actors in the world, Matt Mercer is a producer on this film.

The Dead Thing hits the perfect blend of claustrophobic loneliness and endless yearning. Just like Dr. Rebekah McKendry, it’s clear that Elric Kane doesn’t just talk the talk, he walks the walk. For his debut feature film, The Dead Thing doesn’t need resuscitation. I’d say run, don’t walk, to check this one out, but if you do…look left and right before crossing the street.

The Dead Thing hits Shudder on Friday, February 14! Watch it with your partner if you can, or watch it alone with a tub of ice cream and an overflowing glass of wine. I won’t judge.

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[REVIEW] ‘Bride of Chucky’ Takes The Franchise In A New Direction

Bride of Chucky follows two groups of people who inevitably meet up for a final climactic finale. Tiffany Valentine (Jennifer Tilly) procures Chucky’s (Brad Dourif) body following the events of Child’s Play 3. Her goal is to perform a voodoo ritual to put his soul back into a human’s body. Through a questionable series of events, Chucky kills Tiffany and puts her soul into the body of a doll. The side story follows Jade Kincaid (Katherine Heigl) and Jesse Miller (Nick Stabile) who elope, with a thousand dollars, from Jade’s overbearing police chief uncle Warren (John Ritter). After Chucky kills Warren, Jade and Jesse are fingered for the murder. That’s when hijinks ensue.

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The Child’s Play franchise is all over the place. What started as a [fairly] serious slasher series surrounding a killer doll would morph into a Nightmare on Elm Street-like horror comedy before self-correcting to find a solid middle ground. I’ll be the first to admit that I have never really cared much for this franchise. Child’s Play frightened me when I was a kid, and it wouldn’t be until my college years that I decided to watch Bride and Seed–this altered my overall opinion of what the franchise stood for. Watching Child’s Play 2 and 3 back in college left me wondering how a franchise as culturally impactful as this one fluctuated in style and substance.

Bride of Chucky follows two groups of people who inevitably meet up for a final climactic finale. Tiffany Valentine (Jennifer Tilly) procures Chucky’s (Brad Dourif) body following the events of Child’s Play 3. Her goal is to perform a voodoo ritual to put his soul back into a human’s body. Through a questionable series of events, Chucky kills Tiffany and puts her soul into the body of a doll. The side story follows Jade Kincaid (Katherine Heigl) and Jesse Miller (Nick Stabile) who elope, with a thousand dollars, from Jade’s overbearing police chief uncle Warren (John Ritter). After Chucky kills Warren, Jade and Jesse are fingered for the murder. That’s when hijinks ensue.

Before the comments start, let’s return to the opening comment regarding Child’s Play turning into a horror comedy. Chucky was always one for quips. Like Freddy Krueger, Chucky would hit a one-liner shortly before or after his kill. These jokes worked to help cut through Chucky’s horror. It gave some momentary relief from the kills. Bride of Chucky is just one long gag, and for me, it’s frustrating. Like Nightmare, Bride of Chucky has lost the plot. Every scene seems to exist to facilitate a setup for the next bit or one-liner, rather than having moments of comedy flow naturally. The doll sex scene and swinger couple bits are just poorly thought-out filler.

I know this is going to anger some of you, but Bride of Chucky is a seriously awful movie.

There are a few moments that I do truly enjoy and work well in the overall Child’s Play universe. Tiffany kills the officer she buys Chucky’s body from with a nail file and then uses it to file her nails. The moment Tiffany stabs Chucky in the back at the cemetery is a great character moment, but it makes everything that led up to it pointless. With the exception of a few moments here and there, Bride of Chucky ends up being a chore to watch rather than entertainment. For a genre that has always been political, gay representation has been lacking for quite some time. The character of David Collins (Gordon Michael Woolvett) is a welcome addition to the story, but he feels underutilized in the grand scheme of it all.

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While I may not care for the franchise much, I’ve done some research on it over the years. Bride of Chucky features many recycled bits from other Child’s Play scripts and you can really feel it. The kills are few and far between and feel overly forced. Child’s Play 4 was initially put on hold after the abysmal box office of Child’s Play 3 and maybe writer/director Don Mancini should have taken another year or so to really flesh out the canon of Chucky. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of Tiffany becoming a doll and becoming pregnant with Chucky’s baby. But I don’t think the ends justify the means.

Cult and Curse of Chucky, thankfully, take the series back to a more grounded and to-the-roots nature of what Child’s Play was, and I’m glad it took nearly a decade after Seed for it to come to fruition. Mancini is an excellent voice in horror, but time and constraints are necessary for his vision to be fully realized. Those who are Child’s Play die-hards will probably disagree with everything I’ve said, and that’s okay. As a casual Chucky fan, Bride of Chucky feels nothing more than a nu-metal, Hot Topic, try-hard entry into the franchise. The kills look solid, and Dourif gives an incredible vocal performance (as always) but there’s little to no substance to Bride of Chucky.

No wonder half of all marriages end in divorce.

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