The Old Testament’s Book of Leviticus has a lot to say about sin and uncleanliness, as well as ritual purity and atonement. The priests within the book, itself a moral metaphor, were frequently corrupt and evil. It’s the perfect title for writer-director Adrian Chiarella‘s powerful feature debut, a searing anthem against the corrosive nature of fear and bigotry.
Talk to Me‘s Joe Bird stars as Naim, a new kid in a small Australian suburb who’s introduced as he’s hanging out with new friend Ryan (Stacy Clausen). Playful ribbing quickly leads to romance between the pair, though one that can only carry on in secret. The town’s prominent religious community, of which Naim’s mom (Mia Wasikowska) is a devout member, doesn’t approve of homosexuality.
When the lovers are outed, they’re subjected to a strange conversion-therapy ritual by a mysterious outsider that marks them as targets for an unrelenting, malevolent entity that takes the form of whoever the afflicted desires most.
If that sounds like It Follows, well, it sort of is. Chiarella refines the horror mechanics and metaphor with much sharper precision, ensuring that the scares and emotional gravity of Naim and Ryan’s terrifying predicament reach their intended impact. Here, the lust-induced curse gets very personal, with the entity offering tantalizing temptation in doppelgänger form, hoping to lure its victim close before brutally ripping them apart.
Chiarella uses this as a launchpad to immerse audiences in the horror of constantly living in fear for simply existing. And it’s here where Leviticus rises above its influences with clear purpose. Through the curse, fleeting moments of tender romance or comfort also breed fear and tension. A discreet kiss leaves the cursed vulnerable in more ways than one; safety doesn’t exist for two young teens simply trying to understand their burgeoning emotions.
Ultimately, though, Leviticus owes much of its success to the tremendous performances by its two leads. Joe Bird and Stacy Clausen deftly navigate all the emotional complexities of coming-of-age in a repressed setting that hits too close to home for any reprieve. While the tenderness beneath Ryan’s machismo endears, it’s Naim’s bone-deep fear and melancholy that’s as heartbreaking as it is compelling.
Naim is scared of his emerging feelings, and it’s exacerbated without any avenue to explore them without violent recourse. The threats aren’t just external but internal as well, and it’s those moral and emotional complexities that transform familiar horror formula into something that feels fresh and timely.
Chiarella injects a few potent jump scares that left the Sundance audience shrieking, but does struggle to stage some of the supernatural sieges. The cold open introduces a previous victim of the curse, but only mildly intrigues with its familiar staging. That’s not to say the entity isn’t scary, though; Clausen in particular is a terrifying menace when in Ryan’s doppelgänger form.
Keeping the focus on the star-crossed lovers was the smart and correct choice, but some plot elements feel underutilized by the succinct conclusion. Wasikowska plays her character too guarded, leaving many questions regarding her background and motives unanswered, even if the film gives her a satisfying end to her arc, for example. The rules, though simple and straightforward, can also bend at whim.
Still, Leviticus is a strong debut with an incisive voice at the helm. Chiarella coaxes poignant, layered performances out of his young leads that ensure that the social horror cuts deep, even if some of the more supernatural components occasionally feel stale. We care deeply about Naim and Ryan’s survival, making Leviticus a tense, atmospheric, and claustrophobic vision of young love in a hateful world.
Leviticus made its world premiere at Sundance and is currently seeking distrubution.
