150 Word Review: 'Longlegs' (2024) + Essay: 'Pig' (2021)
Don't go downstairs
There are moments when Longlegs feels more like a meta-commentary on the horror genre than a horror movie itself. Director Osgood Perkins is inspired by serial killer procedurals, celluloid Satanic panics, and haunted doll stories—his nightmare diet is diverse. The references to movies like Silence of the Lambs and Carrie sometimes threaten to undermine the original shocks and chills.
But then there are moments when Longlegs is overwhelmingly suffocating, a blanket of trauma, soaked in sweat, slowly pulled over the audience's head. At its best, it's a despairing meditation on the sins of our parents and the ways old pains obliterate memory and twist the stories we tell ourselves.
Indie horror veteran Maika Monroe gives an awards-worthy performance as a lonely FBI agent with ESP. As Longlegs, Nicolas Cage is unrecognizable and disarming, a ghost-white murder hippie with a reedy voice. His performance is utterly unique—think Pennywise's Grandmother.
My funny/sad memoir about making art with your friends in post-9/11, pre-iPhone New York City is available for purchase.
New 150 Word Review: 'Horizon: An American Saga—Chapter One' (2024)
Essay: ‘Pig’ (2021)
Director Michael Sarnoski’s Pig plays a game of bait-and-switch. At first, this movie, starring a subdued Nicolas Cage as a strange loner, promises lots of action and revenge but then delivers a moody character study about grief.
If you squint, Pig is almost a parody of the popular action movie plot where a lonely man with very specific talents is inspired to kick ass because really bad guys have kidnapped someone dear to him, like a dog or a daughter.
Only it’s not funny. There are a few offbeat notes, but this is a funeral, where people whisper about loss. The moment Cage’s prized truffle pig — and sole companion — is kidnapped from his shack in the woods, you expect the famously over-the-top actor to unleash hell, but he’s more of a philosopher-monk than John Wick. Instead of punching, he confronts suspects with truths and memories, forcing them to face their own choices and tragedies.
This is an ambitious first film by a director who wants to play with tropes, and sometimes that’s all he does: picking them up and putting them down with boredom. Pig isn’t a criticism of Hollywood blockbusters. It’s not a precious indie movie punch drunk on quirkiness. Nor is it a taut mystery. But it’s a little bit of all of that and more.
It doesn’t steal from other movies, more like picks their pockets for knicks and knacks. For instance, Portland’s culinary scene has a dark underworld populated by fixers and sell-outs and a fight club. Sure? Thankfully, Cage is inspired and saves Pig from its lack of focus.
Cage’s character is that of a widower, but we’re not told much about his partner, their history, who she was, and what happened to her. This is Pig’s laziest crutch, but action movies are full of two-dimensional heroes who need a little humanity. Either way, it lacks credibility. But, yet again, Cage comes to the rescue. His wife may be a plot point but before the credits roll Cage summons an unexpected moment of grace, as if from thin air.
The Academy-Award-winning actor has spent the last few years throwing himself into small, low-budget thrillers and horror movies, often elevating the material with his enthusiasm. The man performs the way a thirsty wanderer drinks. It’s a testament to his talent that he found interesting moments in the soil of Pig. His character is wounded and wild and was once a king. A brilliant chef undone by sorrow, an artist, and a prodigal son. A man who is tired of people. A man who loves a pig and who is loved by a pig. A father and his only child.
***
There is one theme in Pig that resonated with me. For a movie that wears its heart on its sleeve like a fashion statement, it is surprisingly cerebral. It doesn’t always earn its emotional payoffs and when there is a payoff, you can count on Nicolas Cage’s soulful eyes working overtime to interpret what the director/writer is trying to sell. I found Cage’s character, hairy and bloody, a cross-between a doomsday preacher and a hobo, to be immensely watchable and moving. This is probably because my Plan B is to grow my hair out and spend my days living like a tramp, lost amongst the trees.
I have always been drawn to Men Who Live In Shacks In The Woods. The hermit is a pretty well-worn archetype in mythology and literature and cinema and it is my default fantasy. When I am depressed or angry I frequently think about how much easier life would be without all the people. I don’t have a ton of outdoor experience but maybe I could find a nice corner of the middle of nowhere with strong wifi reception so I can watch YouTube videos about making fires and skinning critters.
I don’t think of myself as a misanthrope. I don’t dislike people. It’s just, the more you know, the more you love, the more heartbreak there will be.
I’ve entertained skedaddling into the great unknown after failures. I have failed before. Quite often, actually. I have ruined relationships by drinking and lost jobs because I was too arrogant. I have given my all to dreams and that all has not been enough. And when I haven’t failed, I’ve been visited by misery. I have answered the phone late at night to get news that the worst happened. Bad news can’t find you if you’re lost, or at least, that is what I choose to believe.
And each time I have been challenged, or forced to face the consequences of my actions, I have thought about running away to the woods. Running away from hurt. Running away from people, family, friends. There is always a risk when you’re connected to others, links pull links down. There is no risk if you live alone.
I have always struggled to reach out to family and friends which isn’t a unique problem, especially for men. The cultural edicts are quite clear when it comes to either physical or emotional pain. Do not shed tears. Do not show weakness. Suffer in silence and if you must bleed, do it far from view if possible.
So that’s the fantasy. Obi-Wan Kenobi in the Tatooine desert. Just me, a shack, and… a pig, I guess?
So yeah, the image of Cage making a mushroom tart in the quiet of the wilderness touched me. It was peaceful. Serene. That could be me, only I’d make sure not to make enemies. I’d probably bring my thirteen-pound, one-eyed mutt Morley with me instead of a pig. In my fantasy, I throw a party like Bilbo Baggins at the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring. A birthday party, but really, a goodbye party. I’d slip away from the ruckus and embark on an adventure, which would probably end up just being me, filthy, living in a tent, the local teens nicknaming me “little Sasquatch.”
I know there are plenty of people who successfully cut themselves off from others. Who embrace isolation and live their lives as islands dotted with dynamited bridges. Their days spent putzing and humming and doing whatever they want, no responsibility to anyone, no looming catastrophe save for their own, one day. I can’t say I’d care if woodland animals ate my corpse, but I don’t know if I want to mourn all the ‘what ifs,’ like what if I had told him I loved him, or what if I had said ‘yes’ to couples therapy, or what if I had taken care of her when she was sick instead of making excuses. What if I had embraced intimacy instead of swatting it away every chance? I suppose Cage’s character is lucky because life comes for him and drags him kicking and screaming back into society.
Cage’s character’s return to civilization is begrudging. He’s forced to do it because someone stole his pig. When we first hear him say something, it sounds like he hasn’t spoken in years. But once he’s warmed up to his fate he’s not afraid to talk about pain because everyone is wounded, some are better at hiding the limp or the pus than others. This includes another indispensable actor in Pig, Alex Wolff, a flamboyant, insecure truffle buyer and estranged son of Adam Arkin’s foodie mob boss. Pig is partly about their healing. It’s also about how no one can really go it alone, even with a beloved pet at your side.
It’s easy to forget Cage’s long history of playing romantic weirdos and wiry goofballs. Sweethearts. Men comfortable in their skin who don’t always fit in. He’s a deeply sensitive actor who shot to superstardom as an action hero in the 90s. He’s older in Pig. Wiser, sadder, more rooted to the Earth. Cage is still able to conjure the madness that made him an icon, but in this movie, he’s almost showing off, reminding the audience that his old tricks still impress.
By the movie's end, Cage’s crazed chef has suffered greatly but reconnected with his past, and his future looks a little less lonely. Not much, but enough. A little light scares away shadows.
New 150 Word Review: ‘Popeye’ (1980)
Excellent review of Pig. And by excellent I mean that it expressed my sentiments handily. Glad to see the movie get a mention. I’m always sad when good art gets drowned in the flood of content.
I thought there was a strong David Lynch influence on LONGLEGS as well. FBI agent protagonist who dabbles in mysticism? Set in the Pacific Northwest in the early 1990s? It lacked only coffee and pie.