Recommendations of the Editorial team
There are many verses in Leviticus, but one single one has been pulled out of the drawer for ages. Not the commandment of charity. You already know which one is meant. The thing about “You shall not lie with a man as with a woman.” An Old Testament commandment used as a cudgel by people who consistently ignore the core teachings of the New Testament – and which has fueled homophobia, hatred and suffering for centuries. Writer-Director Adrian Chiarella has undoubtedly heard this verse quoted, heard it shouted by anti-Pride protesters, and experienced firsthand the consequences of a phrase used to… to persecute an entire community.
The Australian filmmaker originally toyed with the idea of making a film about the pseudo-religious fire-and-brimstone exorcisms that are falsely seen as “curing” queer youth. Then Chiarella had an idea: What if someone fought the desires of young men and women not through ceremonial expulsion, but through obsession?
Conceived from the start as a genre provocation, “Leviticus” uses this simple conceptual reversal as a starting point for cutting-edge talking points and social horror shock moments. It’s the kind of directorial debut that makes you say, “Remember the name” – a cinematic statement supported by a keen sense of composition and two performances that walk the line between fiery passion and sheer terror. At the same time, the film marks a turning point in the queer horror genre: it awakens real fear for its protagonists and deep disgust for its supernatural and human monsters. The metaphor for the real-life chamber of horrors called conversion therapy is anything but reserved. But it’s remarkably effective and feels like a small milestone – in representing and reflecting a community that has a long, meaningful and deeply complicated history with horror film.
Arriving in nowhere
Moving to Australia’s rural outskirts doesn’t have many advantages for Naim (Joe Bird, of “Talk to Me” fame). The only thing this move to nowhere has to offer: Ryan (Stacy Clausen) lives there. A local boy with a surfer vibe and wrestling physique who introduces the newcomer to the local pastimes: watching snakes hunt frogs, wandering aimlessly through endless dead-end streets, breaking into an abandoned mill and enthusiastically smashing everything he finds inside. When exuberant frolicking turns into a spontaneous rapprochement, neither of them resists it. The attraction is palpable – even if the unspoken command to keep things discreet is understood by both.
The church has considerable influence in this town, and such connections are, as expected, met with rejection by the ultra-conservative, narrow-minded population. (See film title.) Naim’s mother (Mia Wasikowska) seems particularly taken by this – less a fanatical believer than a lost soul who is desperately looking for something to hold on to after her divorce. It also turns out that Ryan also has a physical relationship with the pastor’s son. Soon, a “deliverance healer” appears – Nicholas Hope, star of “Bad Boy Bubby” and a legend of Australian cinema – who performs a kind of… ritual on the son and Ryan. “All your lust, all your shamelessness, all your desires – that has to go now,” he intones. Mysterious words are spoken. A lighter is held in front of the boys’ faces. Then: cramps and screams of pain.
A few days later, Naim witnesses the pastor’s son being brutally attacked by an invisible force. Ryan has also experienced inexplicable incidents involving an unseen, malevolent force. Then Naim’s mother enlists this self-proclaimed healer to “help” her son too – and it’s not long before Naim has to fight off the same paranormal apparition that threatens Ryan. It’s around this point that the film introduces some rules regarding its homegrown evil: The thing has been unleashed on a number of other youths in the area. It only attacks when you are alone. And it appears in the form of the person you desire most – all the better to turn your attraction murderously against you. It’s hard to tell if you’re encountering a demon when it looks like the physical image of your true love.
More than just a metaphor
As I said: not exactly subtle. Luckily, “Leviticus” knows how to use this concept both for moments of shock and to make points about the insidiousness that comes from confusing hate with redemption. Lust has always been a catalyst for monsters and massacres in horror films – but to simply label the film as “‘It Follows,’ but for same-sex relationships” would be superficial and do it no justice. Chiarella’s story tackles a very real prejudice and a very real fear. The tension behind every “Is this the real Ryan, or a hellspawn in Ryan’s guise trying to rip Naim’s head off?” moment – and there are several, choreographed for maximum nervous tension – is always paired with the implication that the local church has sanctioned these anti-LGBTQ paranormal activities. What is more insidious than someone using your sexuality as a weapon against you and claiming it is to “save” your soul? The demon is simply the manifestation of something less bizarre and far uglier.
Anyone who prefers films in which the metaphors are a little lighter might find this queer horror film a little too heavy-handed. However, “Leviticus” has more on its mind than translating real-world grievances into genre fodder. He comes not to bury his gayness, but to show how soulmates find a way to maintain their love even in the face of life and death. At one point, Ryan explains that if he has to spend the rest of his days fighting something that takes the form of the person who makes his heart beat faster, he wants that something to look like Naim. The sentence sounds silly when you read it. The rapturous feeling behind it comes through when you hear Clausen speak and see the reaction he evokes in Bird’s character. For most of the film you think you’re watching a horror film with a love story bubbling beneath the surface. Towards the end you realize that it’s exactly the opposite: a love story that is inextricably interwoven with the horror film around it – but without belonging to it.