Australian director Adrian Chiarella‘s feature debut, Leviticus, tells the story of LGBTQIA+ youth who are forced to confront religious and social oppression through a horror narrative infused with paranormal elements. As someone who enjoys the provocative side of art, the film won me over with its title alone. The Book of Leviticus in the Old Testament contains verses that explicitly forbid homosexuality. By centering two gay characters and directly criticizing religious and social oppression, the film clearly shows that it is fully aware of the message it wants to convey.
However, that powerful message does not change the fact that Leviticus resembles It Follows, since it features a curse in which the entity pursuing its victims can only be seen by the victim and somehow operates through sexual desire. Even so, the film does not deserve to be dismissed as a superficial “It Follows copy.” It has something to say about certain social issues. What at first seems like a horror concept that hasn’t been fully thought through is actually a device used to help us better experience the fear of people living under that kind of oppression.
After the death of his father, Naim moves with his devoutly religious mother to a small, tightly knit Christian town. There, he meets Ryan, and the two begin a secret relationship. But one day, Naim catches Ryan kissing Hunter, the pastor’s son. Out of jealousy, he reports the two of them to their families. For two gay teenagers living in an extremely conservative community, there are few things worse. Their families immediately bring in a “healer” and perform a ritual to “free them from the curse of homosexuality.” The real-life practice of conversion therapy is reimagined here through the theme of an inverted exorcism, turning into a curse rather than an act of purification.
After the ritual, both boys are stalked by an invisible entity that takes the form of the person they desire most. The entity appears only when they are alone, seduces them, and tries to kill them. Hunter quickly becomes the creature’s first victim. From that point on, the film becomes a survival story as Naim and Ryan fight against the entity. And they survive. What affected me the most, however, was the way the film handles betrayal and forgiveness throughout that struggle. It is not easy to forgive someone who has done something like that to you—especially if it is the person you are in love with. But the circumstances force them to stay together. They become dependent on one another, and under those conditions, they forgive each other. The film may not explore this aspect as deeply as it could have, but it leaves behind a layer that is worth thinking about.
The natural chemistry between Joe Bird and Stacy Clausen is one of the film’s greatest strengths. The love, anger, and vulnerability they share are conveyed convincingly in both the emotional scenes and the horror sequences. The cinematography is equally impressive. Despite relying on a color palette dominated by gray, pale, and blue tones, the film succeeds in creating a visually rich and striking atmosphere.
Ultimately, Leviticus is primarily concerned with showing the difficulties of living as a queer person in a homophobic society while criticizing the religious and social structures that create that oppression. Every horror element in the film serves as a tool to make that message more impactful. And in the end, the film succeeds in saying what it set out to say.
