THE STORY – Two star-crossed teenage boys must escape a violent entity that takes the form of the person they desire most — each other.
THE CAST – Joe Bird, Stacy Clausen, Mia Wasikowska, Jeremy Blewitt, Ewen Leslie & Davida McKenzie
THE TEAM – Adrian Chiarella (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 88 Minutes
The Book of Leviticus details purity laws, social regulations, and ethical codes that illustrate how even a sinful individual can maintain a relationship with God. This third book of the Old Testament points to a pathway of obedience and atonement as important values to uphold to attain forgiveness for a wide range of sins, including forbidden activities such as same-sex relationships. Queer stories and horror themes in film have been fast companions for years. From Joachim Trier’s “Thelma” to Karyn Kusama’s “Jennifer’s Body” and Julia Ducournau’s “Titane,” these two facets have long been joined at the hip, forming many deeply disturbing and effective allegorical tales. The same is true of Australian writer-director Adrian Chiarella’s impressive horror feature directorial debut, “Leviticus.”
“Leviticus” follows two romantically intertwined teenage boys in rural Australia as they navigate both their conservative community and their forbidden feelings for one another. If this premise sounds familiar, it doesn’t take long for “Leviticus” to take this recognizable setup and contort it into a deeply disturbing and violently fresh take on conversion therapy, religious trauma, and the ongoing struggle for marginalized communities to gain acceptance well into the 21st century.
Naim (“Talk To Me’s” Joe Bird) and Ryan (Stacy Clausen) are two youths in the throes of young love, sneaking into abandoned warehouses to exchange clandestine kisses, playfully wrestle, and embrace one another somewhere safe, away from their peers, the church, and the public eye. The boys largely avoid one another in church and school, only to meet on bikes at dusk and spend tender moments together in their secret refuge. The film initially appears to follow the familiar path of star-crossed lovers and coming-of-age tales until an extreme, disturbing tonal shift disarms the viewer and upends “Leviticus” in an instant.
Soon, Ryan and another outed boy (the Pastor’s own son) are forced to undergo a religious exorcism-style ritual in front of their families and fellow churchgoers in an attempt to supposedly free them from their lust and “sinful lifestyles.” Though the ceremony initially seems absurd and almost comical, it quickly becomes shiver-inducingly serious. Under a barrage of murmured Latin from the supposed church healer, the boys violently spasm on the floor, and soon begin experiencing a harmful, demonic presence, visible only to them and appearing in the form of their own lovers.
From this point on, an eerie sense of dread seeps through the screen and refuses to leave until the credits roll. Here, “Leviticus” draws inevitable comparisons to “It Follows,” as the doppelgängers of the boys’ crushes relentlessly torment them at night when they are alone, brutalizing and maiming them to near-death, ultimately training them to fear their own lovers, exactly as the church intends. Ryan and Naim find themselves trapped in a cycle, questioning reality and powerless against an evil that denies them peace. Even Naim’s mother (a malevolent Mia Wasikowska) is willing to submit her own son to lifelong torment rather than let him live true to himself.
At a tight 88 minutes, “Leviticus” uses every moment of its concise runtime to instill dread and build a believably immersive yet bleak and suffocating world, which the titular characters are largely forced to navigate alone. The writing is original, rich, and effective, ramping up tension until it reaches a graphic, brutal crescendo in the third act. The film’s only minor narrative stumble is that it teeters on repeating its own ruse a few times, flirting with the edge of trope fatigue. Thankfully, it is self-aware enough to rein in plot devices before they overstay their welcome. Not all of its supernatural elements and rules are fully consistent, but this is a minor flaw in the larger scheme.
“Leviticus” is unafraid to take risks, and it is clear that Chiarella relied on his exemplary cast to carry his ambitious directorial debut. The performances are exceptional, almost to the point of absurdity. Bird and Clausen depict an intense, chemistry-driven, devastatingly convincing young relationship, making it effortless for audiences to empathize with and root for them. Wasikowska is a quietly upsetting force as a distant, disappointed mother, representing the worst of ultra-religious apologists who spew scripture while carrying a hateful darkness within.
The story and performances are elevated further by impressive technical work. Cinematographer Tyson Perkins delivers many beautiful, immersive shots; Emma Bortignon’s sound design creates a haunting atmosphere; Jed Kurzel’s score is eerily fitting; and the film makes effective use of both practical and digital effects, which will have audiences squinting through their fingers at the violence on screen.
Ultimately, “Leviticus” is a sensual and horrifying film that, while inevitably drawing comparisons to other queer and horror media such as “Heated Rivalry” and “It Follows” respectively, is original enough to stand on its own. Mercilessly upsetting yet emotionally resonant, it is a fresh entry in the queer horror scene, poised to cement itself as a festival gem and establish Chiarella as an exciting new voice in contemporary cinema.
