Adrian Chiarella’s directorial debut Leviticus features several wonderfully chilling moments that force both its central characters and the audience to question what is in front of their eyes. In one unnerving sequence, Naim (Joe Bird), a teenager living in a deeply religious Australian small town, is subtly beckoned to a high school bathroom by Ryan (Stacy Clausen), the object of his affections.
As tempting as sneaking away for a brief romantic encounter might be, the teen has a moment of pause. Not simply because the chances of getting caught are high but he, and the viewer, are unsure if the person luring him in is his friend or the demonic entity that has been stalking him. What makes the undefined evil being Leviticus so unnerving is that it assumes the appearance of the person its victim loves the most. The individual one would least expect to do them harm.
Clinging to a person like toilet paper refusing to leave one’s shoes, the unshakable entity, which is most deadly when its target is alone, will surely evoke memories of David Robert Mitchell’s brilliant 2014 horror It Follows for some viewers. However, Chiarella’s film dances to its own unique beat. Constructing a work that is both a creepy horror film and a touching love story, Leviticus captures the sense of isolation and deep trauma that queer teens endure in communities that practice conversion therapy.
Chiarella establishes early on that Naim has never felt truly at home in the town his overly religious mother (Mia Wasikowska) recently moved them to. The only thing that brings him joy is hanging with Ryan who, in a moment of playful roughhousing, makes it clear that he has feelings for him as well. However, when Naim sees Ryan kissing a fellow classmate (Jeremy Blewitt), jealousy and anger leads him to making a decision he will forever regret.
Sharing what he witnessed with the spiritual leader of the community, Naim is horrified when a “Deliverance Preacher” (Nicholas Hope) is brought in to perform a cleansing ritual on both boys. The experience clearly has traumatic linger effects on the duo as Ryan begins seeing things that no one else can and having life-threatening encounters that only occur when he is by himself.
Unsure of what is afflicting his friend, Naim will get his own firsthand experience of this terror when his mother calls on the mysterious preacher to conduct the ritual on him.
The idea of a “Deliverance Preacher, a representative of God summoning something that only the devil could conjure is ripe for dissection. However, Chiarella’s film opts to only scrape the religious icing off its richly layered cake. The misuse of religion to unjustly punish LGBTQ+ youth is the catalyst for the horror, but there is much about the toxic side of faith, especially regarding Naim’s mother’s role in the community, that the film does not fully explore.
The film may not dig deep into the religious soil its plants its terror in, but the director ensures that the tender love story between Naim and Ryan is at the root of the film.
Understanding the passion and confusion that comes with one’s first love, Chiarella’s film finds strength in the bonds that romance can form. Lead by Bird and Clausen’s wonderful performances, Naim and Ryan feel like real people who, even when they make mistakes, will be forever linked. They serves as a reminder that even when society tries to ostracize and make one feel small, a person is never truly alone when someone loves you.
A strong debut film, Leviticus shows that the real monsters in society are those who try to convert people into something they are not.
