I love a divisive horror movie. In fact the more sound minds hate it the more I hope I’ll love it. (See SKINAMARINK.)

But unlike SKINAMARINK, LONGLEGS boasts star power —Nicolas Cage at the height of his wildcat 2.0 peak, Maika Monroe in a gambit of her own, and an IDGAF Alicia Witt shining like a Lovecraft blood moon. Whatever your expectations, this is a menageries of WTF.

Unfortunately, strong performances and a brash storytelling effort can’t carry LONGLEGS all the way. As rivetingly creepy as Nicholas Cage is, and as knuckled down in horror creepo visuals as Osgood Perkins’ yarn is, it feels like a belly flop.

Take Maika Monroe’s Lee Harker. Liberally borrowed from Thomas Harris’ Clarice Starling character (?), she has all of the baggage of the FBI sleuth with none of the magnetism. We’re indulged with details of her private life, but to no avail. Even as it connects to the titular madman there is no inroad to sympathize with Lee—and just as little room to care about how her personal trauma connects us to Longlegs.

About him. Nicholas Cage is incapable of doing wrong. For as imbalanced as this movie is, he delivers a performance for the ages. It’s clunky, weird, scary as shit, and unlike anything he has ever done before. I really wish the variables of this production had met with better source material.

Osgood Perkins, whose pervious efforts say he can slip away from his audience at peak expectations—without meeting them, knows how to tell a story, and has built good credit where he belongs. It’s up to him to capitalize on those well-deserved resources.

He’s getting closer.