Oz Perkins’ eerie, occultist serial killer horror thriller “Longlegs” opens with a psyche-rattling sequence, barely a minute or two long, in which he crafts a chilling sense of shock, awe and confounding humor simply through shot composition, editing and performance. It unsettles the viewer on a bone-deep level, the tension then bursting like a bubble on a bravura music cue. It is scary, only because of how it is presented formally, not necessarily thanks to any of the basic actions or imagery on screen, and it is thrilling, because Perkins announces from the outset his audacious approach to tone as well as his mastery of cinematic technique to create suspense.
The tension never lets up throughout “Longlegs,” though it is peppered with a dry, black humor that somehow just makes everything more disturbing. One should know as little as possible about “Longlegs” for the best viewing experience: in fact, feel free to stop reading now if experiencing an entirely unpredictable plot and the sensation of sickening dread mixed with bleak humor for 100 minutes sounds like an appealing cinematic experience (it is). But we shall proceed here, because “Longlegs” is just too rich a text to unpack, and the obstacle course of writing around its true horrors is a worthy challenge.
Though it’s a facile comparison, “Longlegs” feels like Perkins’ “The Silence of the Lambs,” in that it follows a young female FBI agent as she plays cat and mouse with a serial killer (.