Leviticus: Intersecting Horror and Coming-Of-Age Romance

The best horror films impact audiences on the most intimate of levels, leveraging the emotional connections they create between audiences and its characters to make their scares hit that much more. Nowadays, the genre has served as a jumping off point to telling more representational stories, finding the horror in the everyday life. Queer stories have since found a home in the horror genre, a place where audiences can feel safe and see themselves reflected on screen, stories that leave an impact on audiences long after the credits roll. The feature debut of Australian writer-director Adrian Chiarella, Leviticus is a horror film that sees its characters are haunted by their own desires. An allegory of the controversial practice of conversion therapy, something that remains a large part of modern society, its premise is full of promise but despite not being utilized to its full potential, its saving grace are the pair of phenomenal lead performances from Joe Bird and Stacy Clausen. The chemistry of Bird, the undisputed heart of the film, and Clausen create the kind of relationship that transcends the material, making for one that will be remembered when all is set and done. Doing much of the heavy lifting, whenever they are on screen, it will be hard to look away.

Leviticus is centered around Naim (Bird) and Ryan (Clausen), two teenage boys who found themselves faced with a violent supernatural entity that takes the form of the person that they desired most which in their case, was each other. During one’s formative teenage years, it is a time when we start to discover ourselves, trying to make sense of conflicting thoughts and feelings as we experience our relationships with ourselves, each other, and the world as a whole. Naim found himself right in the middle of this stage, surviving school and reconciling his newfound adolescent thoughts and feelings. On the precipice of those feelings was Ryan, a boy who he had feelings for from afar, waiting to be noticed. One day, Ryan did, taking him on an outing where he shared his own feelings for Naim. What was a fascination became an attraction, however, he struggled to process those feelings as he became afraid of what they might mean. Holding his true self back out of fear, this left Naim feeling trapped and alone. Ryan, on the other hand, was more open with his feelings, a fact that would get him in trouble. Perhaps out of concern for him, or out of jealousy, finding Ryan with another boy led Naim to voice his concerns to the larger community. In turn, this made Ryan, and a boy named Hunter (Jeremy Blewitt), the target of some sort of a divine healer whose methods were designed to eradicate all impure thoughts and feelings. The result of that process put him in the crosshairs of the aforementioned entity because what better way to eradicate the impure than to make those fear that side of themselves? With the affected being the only ones who can see it, they are forced to suffer alone.

That being said, Ryan and Hunter were far from the only one impacted. Avoiding being alone and staying away from the object of one’s desire appeared to be the only way to stay clear of the entity but, sooner or later, it was going to catch up to who it is tethered to. In spite of this, as far as Naim and Ryan were concerned, staying apart was never going to be in the cards for them. Seeing Ryan in this conflicted state did not keep him Naim away. Coming face-to-face with the entity, his concern for Ryan, or maybe his guilt for putting him in that position in the first place, made Naim a target of the same divine healer and entity. Challenging fate, the threat of the entity did not stop Naim, and his concern for Ryan who, out of concern for Naim, stayed away from him. Putting both in the crosshairs of the entity trying to keep them apart brings an effective element of tension, the simple notion of not knowing the intention of the other from scene to scene just adds to the dynamic. The comparisons to 2014’s ‘It Follows‘ are inevitable but, in this case, there is more substance behind it. Similarly, their supernatural antagonists lack any kind of backstory. In the end, surviving brush after brush with the entity, Naim and Ryan are two characters audiences will grow invested in and want to survive.

A true feat of indie filmmaking, flaws aside, Leviticus does so much within its short 88 minute runtime. While the arc of Naim and Ryan’s relationship is worth the price of admission alone, the film is also well shot, creating an interesting dichotomy between day an night scenes. Keeping the entity largely invisible from audiences early on, it sets the tone by leaving audiences wondering from what corner it will come out of next. Telling the story from Naim’s perspective, meanwhile, allows for a fuller arc. But, it could be argued that his perspective also limits the narrative, missing a chance to take a bigger swing in terms of messaging. However, Bird and Clausen’s phenomenal performances as Naim and Ryan make up for a lot, if not all, of these gripes. Bird, in particular, following a breakout role in 2022’s ‘Talk To Me,’ shows off even more of his talents, pulling audiences into Naim’s internal struggles amidst his coming to terms with who he is and who he wants to be, all while dealing with a physical manifestation of that struggle in the form of the entity. Clausen supports that journey, as he brings plenty of charm to the table as Ryan. Sharing in the struggle, he is clearly worn down, as he very much cares for Naim. It’s a shame that the film does not let audiences be privy enough to his struggles.

Leviticus offers up a different take on psychological horror through the lens of a strong coming-of-age romance tale, with the kind of performances that take it to another level.

still courtesy of Elevation Pictures

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Keith Noakes

The EIC of the coincidentally-named keithlovesmovies.com. A Canadian who prefers to get out of the cold and into the warmth of a movie theatre.