QUEER AND PRESENT DANGER
LEVITICUS (15)
Director: Adrian Chiarella
Screenplay: Adrian Chiarella
Starring: Joe Bird, Stacy Clausen, Mia Wasikowska
Running time: 88 minutes
Cinema
Review: RJ Bland
Despite the fact that socially and culturally, we were in quite a different place when cinema first emerged, queer representation has always had a place within the horror genre. That representation, of course, has not always been positive. In the 1930s the Hays Code came into force in the US which (amongst other things) banned any depiction of 'sexual perversity' – and yes, that apparently included homosexuality. Savvy film-makers got around this in several ways. One of these was to make the villains 'queer-coded' by giving them 'effeminate' traits – see films such as The Brides of Dracula (1960), Psycho (1960) and Peeping Tom (1960). Following the abandonment of the Hays Code in the 1960s, horror was able to adopt a bolder and more liberated approach to representation. Robert Wise’s The Haunting (1963), for instance, featured a lesbian heroine, something of a landmark at the time. A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985), meanwhile, has since become iconic for its unmistakable undercurrent of homoeroticism and sexual repression Of course, there were still some problematic portrayals. Films such as Dressed to Kill (1980) and Sleepaway Camp (1983) dangerously conflate gender non-conformity with homicidal psychopathy. Which ain't a great look. Thankfully, since the turn of the century, queer horror has increasingly moved beyond mere subtext or characters positioned as objects of vilification. Films such as Bodies, Bodies, Bodies (2022), the Fear Street trilogy (2021) and I Saw the TV Glow (2024) place queer identities firmly at the forefront, whether normalising them, celebrating them or using them to explore broader themes of identity and repression. Australian horror Leviticus, meanwhile, confronts the abhorrent practice of religious gay conversion therapy – a practice that, horrifyingly, still exists to this day.
Naim (Joe Bird) is a quiet teenage boy growing up in a conservative rural Australian town where being different isn't exactly encouraged. He's also got a bit of a thing for Ryan (Stacy Clausen), a fellow student who seems to feel the same way. The two begin to tentatively explore their attraction, but there's a problem - their relationship isn't going to go down particularly well with everyone around them. In fact, when Naim's mum, Arlene (Mia Wasikowska), discovers what's going on, she decides that her son needs some rather drastic intervention.
Enter a local deliverance healer, who promises to rid Naim of his sinful urges. Because apparently conversion therapy wasn't horrifying enough without adding an actual supernatural element to the proceedings. The ritual does indeed unleash something, but rather than 'curing' Naim, it summons a malevolent entity with a particularly nasty trick up its sleeve. It takes the form of the person its victim desires most. And, unfortunately for Naim and Ryan, that person is each other.
Soon, the boys find themselves being stalked by terrifying versions of one another, and what should have been an awkward teenage romance becomes a fight for survival. Because when the thing you want most in the world suddenly wants to kill you, things can get complicated very quickly...
Comparisons have been made between Leviticus and It Follows and it's easy to see why. The antagonist is invisible to everyone but the potential victim and it is relentless in its pursuit. And just like David Robert Mitchell's sophomore effort, Adrian Chiarella's directorial debut is also bloody good. Not quite as scary perhaps, but just as gripping and ominous. But to keep comparing it to one of the best horror films of the 21st century is a little unfair. Leviticus is very much it's own film with its own clear distinct identity.
Of course, a significant portion of this dread is wrapped up in the anxieties of being queer - rather than the occult entity itself. In a world where religious fundamentalism and intolerance are on the rise, the idea that these fears are unfounded or exaggerated is plainly wrong. Loving someone openly should not put you in peril, and you should never be afraid of your own emotions. And if you aren't aware of the text in Leviticus that lies behind the film's title, look it up. It's abhorrent. The real on-screen monsters here are undeniably the humans who inflict this curse upon our lovestruck heroes. But there is something empowering about all of this, and unlike It Follows, Leviticus gives us a relationship to root for - and to be afraid for. It's effectively a horror-romance (is 'Horromance' a thing?) and there aren't too many of those around. And despite all of the hate, judgement and scorn simmering beneath the surface, there is more than enough love between our leads to compensate. The visual portrayal of this burgeoning relationship is as tender as it is baleful, with some gorgeous cinematography and a woozy score to match.
Speaking of the two leads, they're the real aces up the sleeve here. It's easy to buy into their connection from the outset. Their chemistry is dynamic and authentic, yet tentative. Most of us can relate to that feeling of first love, and how it can feel exciting yet somehow dangerous at the same time. Both Joe Bird and Stacey Clausen sell this combination effortlessly. We believe them when we see them falling in love, and we believe them when we see them being terrified. Those two performances are somehow raw yet refined, and they are the compelling centre of the chaos – the emotional weight that makes all the horror that much more disturbing.
There may be some criticism levelled at just how on-the-nose the themes of the film are, but it's arguably vital that they are in this instance. The antagonistic force is so directly tied to them, and the messaging is so important. If we had one issue, it would be that the ending - whilst technically satisfying – feels somewhat premature. The third act feels truncated, and so when the credits roll, you're left feeling as if you wanted a little more. And who knows, we might get that at some point...
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