Leviticus will be released in theaters on June 19.
A year of strong films from debut horror directors continues with Leviticus, the feature debut from Australian writer/director Adrian Chiarella.
Joe Bird stars as Naim, a teenager living in a small, very religious town. Naim’s newfound secret romantic relationship with his classmate Ryan (Stacy Clausen) and subsequent discovery of Ryan’s dalliances with another boy, Hunter (Jeremy Blewitt), have terrible consequences when, fueled by jealousy, Naim outs Ryan and Hunter. When a so-called “Deliverance Healer” (Nicholas Hope) is called in by the community, his methods of stopping the boys from acting upon their urges involve very dangerous and potentially deadly methods.
Amongst horror’s many subgenres, this is essentially a classic curse movie in which the curse causes those afflicted to see something that looks and sounds exactly like the person they most desire, only for that entity to attack and try to kill them when they let their guard down. And it’s a very well made curse movie, with Chiarella doing an excellent job both of setting the scene and building tension throughout the story, as these boys realize just how much danger they’re in and how little they can trust their own eyes.
Obviously, this is a movie about homophobia — a story about how painting a young person’s love and desire as inherently wrong and something to be suppressed at all costs can have terrible consequences. The extra messed-up thing here is that these teenagers — including a girl we meet in the film’s classic-style opening kill sequence — are seeing the face of the person they love as their potential killer. But that’s because the people around them have decided that just loving or lusting after this person is something that is so despicable, death is an acceptable way to “solve” the problem if they can’t just somehow turn off their feelings.
Chiarella commendably shapes his film’s actual storytelling as very straightforward and often understated, correctly trusting that the metaphors and analogies he’s using will work just fine on their own. There’s no out-of-place speechifying here; Naim and Ryan aren’t suddenly stopping to deliver out-of-character pointed monologues about what it feels like to grow up gay in this judgmental environment. They speak like normal kids, where any talk of wanting to get out of this town already has plenty of context for why it would be especially important for them.
The film rests on the shoulders of its young leads, who are very much up to the challenge. Bird — who made an impression in 2022’s Talk to Me, another recent attention-getting Australian horror movie — is excellent as Naim. It’s an often quiet and contemplative role where he’s able to show us a lot about the character through his expressions and demeanor, selling us on Naim’s frequent discomfort and the more easygoing, happy side that begins to manifest when he’s with Ryan. This in turn gives way to his fear and terror, both at what begins to happen and his own responsibility for setting these events in motion, all of which Bird expertly conveys.
The film rests on the shoulders of its young leads, who are very much up to the challenge.
Clausen is also great as Ryan. His character is not as fully fleshed out as Naim, since we don’t have as clear a picture of his home life or as much perspective on the before and after of what he goes through; unlike the more reserved Naim, it seems he’s a popular kid, but his dynamic with his friend group isn’t really represented. But Clausen is able to imbue Ryan with a lot of sweetness and empathy beneath his outward bravado, along with showing the big changes in his attitude once that Deliverance Healer pays him a visit.
Also doing strong work is Mia Wasikowska, who’s been mostly sticking to small, independent movies since her days starring in big budget films like Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland or Guillermo del Toro’s Crimson Peak. As Naim’s mother, she plays things impressively ambiguous, depicting a woman who watches her son from afar with expressions that could read as loving, menacingly judgmental, or perhaps a conflicted mixture of both depending on the moment.
Chiarella makes sure his queer horror movie never forgets it’s a horror movie. Leviticus is genuinely creepy and filled with tension, especially after Naim himself falls under the same curse as the others. The idea of never knowing if the person you most long to see is actually this evil thing out to kill you gets plenty of mileage here, as both Naim and the audience share the same doubts and fear every time “Ryan” shows up to see Naim. One scene in particular does a great job of using that uncertainty to flip around an expected outcome in a very clever way. Chiarella also knows how to deliver a heart-pounding jump scare when he needs to, never overplaying that approach but making sure there’s a couple times that are definitely scream-worthy.
The film also benefits from Jed Kurzel’s evocative score, which blends together feelings of both eeriness and melancholy. Kurzel’s music is just right for the story being told and its conclusion, which offers no easy solution to this scenario yet doesn’t fall into utter hopelessness in a manner that feels appropriate for the subject matter.
