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The metaphor behind Leviticus also serves as the clear driving force behind its horror. These young men living in a small industrial town in the Victoria region of Southeast Australia are living in constant fear that people are going to find out their secret. The only places they even feel comfortable enough to be themselves are in abandoned mills and vacant fields that are tucked far away from the heart of their conservative suburban community. Eventually, the deeply religious adults in their lives discover their secret and attempt to "fix" them by sending them to a deliverance healer (Nicholas Hope) who performs a ritual that conjures up the aforementioned shape-shifting monsters that will maim or kill an afflicted individual if they decide to act on their homosexual impulses. It's not exactly hard to track that this ritual is a stand-in for conversion therapy and how this barbaric practice remains prevalent in certain religions to this day.
What makes Leviticus such a deeply depressing tale is that these parents would rather have their kids die while trying to make them into something that they're not than love them for who they are. Anybody who has been around for long enough has heard a zillion sentiments about how parenting is all about delivering unconditional love to your child. Well, that isn't always the case as plenty of parents out there will instantaneously turn on their children if they discover that their sexual orientation or gender identity isn't what they had hoped it would be. Many of these parents that refuse to support their gay or trans child are governed by the fear that religion has instilled upon them the LGBTQ+ community is a scourge on the Earth that needs to be exterminated. In my eyes, these people aren't fit to be parents. There's an unspoken contract that you're signing when you decide to become a parent that states that you will love your child no matter what and failing to honor it on the grounds of being afraid or repulsed by them having the courage to embrace who they are is the epitome of cruel, cowardly behavior that would get you banished to Hell if that place proved to be real. None of the horrible shit that happens in this movie would've occurred if the adults in the room simply accepted who their children are and that will be the first thing I associate with Leviticus for the rest of time.
Underneath the shadow of cruelty, isolation and torment being placed upon them, Bird and Clausen do a great job of showing the power of resilience in the face of tremendous adversity. Leviticus would be a merely well-meaning platitude if the romance between the leading duo wasn't strong enough to risk getting your face bashed in by a demonic doppelgänger for and after the initial will they or won't they dance plays out, something beautiful blossoms between them that can't be broken by any outside forces. They are able to convey a warmth and vulnerability that many actors twice their age struggle to when they're asked to portray lovers on screen and the authenticity behind those feelings are why the emotional core of this movie is so strong. Both of these guys appear to be in the first act of long, fruitful acting careers and I'd be surprised if their phones don't start ringing more often after people see what they did here.
Ironically, most of the trouble that Chiarella runs into here is when the movie is leaning into its more traditional horror elements. He doesn't build much dread during the sequences where the entity is present, and the attack sequences quickly become very predictable and repetitive as the boys can only be attacked when they're alone. About the only time Chiarella shows some prowess on this front comes in an admittedly cheap but effective nonetheless jump scare moment in the second half of the movie that arrives out of thin air. Getting the old pulse rate up for a minute or two was a nice reprieve from the haunting psychological torment of the rest of the film and it's good to know that he already has this valuable skill stashed away in his toolbox for future use.
As the summer 2026 horror advent calendar continues to be built, Leviticus establishes itself as a powerful romantic drama with psychological, supernatural and folk horror undertones. That's a very different flavor than anything else the genre has delivered over the past couple of months and just how far removed it is from the Obsession's, Hokum's, Passenger's and Backrooms' of the world is a key part of its appeal. With franchise titles in Evil Dead Burn and Insidious: Into the Further being the sole heavy-hitters left on the calendar, it'll be interesting see what will be waiting behind the last couple of doors in this excellent season for the genre.
Grade: B
