How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Devil

Or Why I Can’t Stop Thinking About Longlegs

I initially wanted to write a spoiler-free review of Longlegs because it draws heavily on themes related to the Satanic Panic. The more I rewrite this post, however, the more I realize that’s not why Longlegs resonated with me.

Longlegs is an excellent horror film, and I wouldn’t be surprised if director Oz Perkins read “Michelle Remembers” as inspiration. Indeed, the ingredients are all there. The reason I appreciate this film so much is on a deeper, more cerebral level.

I lived in the same house for 26 years, and remember constant interior innovations confirmed by my father’s wide collection of home videos. In my family’s computer room–back when families had only one computer and couldn’t connect to the internet if someone was on the phone–a small crack in the solid brown wallpaper revealed an older, brighter layer of wallpaper. This small patch always confused me because it felt like a mix between a vague recollection and a false memory.

Since it took place in the mid-1990s, Longlegs beautifully captures a 90’s aesthetic. I felt it in every scene shot inside a home, whether it was the furniture, kitchenware, or other forms of interior design.  

I’ve been trying to explain this feeling to my friends and family. It’s not the same as the feeling often conveyed in the genre of Southern Gothic, in which something appears opulent but is secretly hiding something rotten under the surface. Instead, it feels like something is tugging on the tendons of my deepest memories. An uncanny nagging of my subconscious that conjures up equal feelings of saudade and enchantment.

To be sure, Longlegs wasn’t the first movie to make me feel this way. That credit goes to last year’s liminal horror film Skinamarink. That I watched both films in an old arthouse theater decorated with neon lights, red curtains, and the unmistakable smell of movie popcorn probably added to the effect of feeling like I had traveled back in time in my family’s office, staring at the small patch of bright wallpaper. Given that they were horror films, those feelings of saudade and enchantment were also met with uneasiness.

I’m still not entirely sure what Longlegs captured, but as of this writing, I guess the best explanation is that it captured the emotions I felt during my childhood.

Longlegs served as a comforting reminder that I had a wild imagination like so many of us did. Every day I felt like the author of a new adventure story, thinking of new quests to embark on.

Longlegs also served as a discomforting reminder that many adventure stories contain monsters.