Leviticus – Movie Review
Australian-made horror is really having its moment, here and abroad. Whether it’s breaking into the international box office with gusto like Talk to Me, or exploring Australian culture and identity through confronting and bleak genre lenses, there is an undeniable force of filmmaking coming out of Australia that is packing a punch. And after a strong premiere at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival, Leviticus announces first time feature director Adrian Chiarella as a voice within Australian horror exploring queer identity and homophobia in a unique way.
Starring Joe Bird (Talk to Me) and Stacey Clausen (True Spirit) as Naim and Ryan respectively, Leviticus takes place in a small, regional Australian town where religion reigns as the binding force of community and structure. Naim, who has only recently arrived to this town with his mother (Mia Wasikowska), develops feelings for Ryan, that in his own adolescence feels as wildly strong as they are complex. Ryan, who is reciprocal of Naim’s sexual and romantic interest, is also exploring his own sexuality with the town pastor’s son, Hunter, of which Naim discreetly catches them in the act. Heartbroken and confused, Naim dobs in Ryan and Hunter, resulting in the arrival of a spiritual leader who performs a supernatural ritual on the boys in which they are sexually tempted by an entity that presents itself as the person they desire most. And if they fall for the temptation – they are violently attacked.
Inspired by some of his own experiences with homophobia, writer-director Adrian Chiarella has first and foremost made an intimate and confronting film about the plethora of emotions that arise when you are a teenager trying to figure out your identity, both as a person and in sexuality. There is a fierce passion and desire that manifests on screen that very intensely portrays young love, which is authentically and engagingly brought to life by Joe Bird and Stacey Clausen’s performances. Between this primal physicality of the teenage boys pushing and shoving before letting the lustfulness take over, and the longing and desire behind their eyes as the stare at each other, there is such a palpable chemistry and energy on screen that is an honest and intense emotional core to the film. And it’s from that foundation that Chiarella then builds the horror around it.
There are two levels of horror within Leviticus. The first is the horror of homophobia that runs rife through this regional community. The response of family and friends to the news that there are queer teenagers town being a spiritual ritual that will kill them if they act on their sexual desires is as infuriating as it is terrifying. No acceptance, just deadly change. And then the second level of horror is the entity itself, which Chiarella keeps a solid ambiguity throughout as to whether the character the audience is seeing is either the real person or the manifestation of the entity. And when the entity is experienced, it leads to brutal results. The tone of horror within Leviticus feels very much inspired by films like It Follows and The Witch, where it’s less about the jump scares and tension, and more about the unpredictability that arises through emotional vulnerability. However, there are times where the film tries to execute more traditional horror tropes and violence that doesn’t always feel like it belongs in this film, resulting in a mixed bag tone at points.
Despite only being 88 minutes long, there is also a bit of a lacklustre drag to Leviticus. The premise is solid, the performances are great, and the emotional foundation is one to easily engage with. However, once all of the film’s elements are established, the story never dives deeper into its themes or relationships past the presented surface level, often just repeating and recycling set pieces or moments in different locations without adding more substance or moving the story forward enough. It’s in the film’s second and third acts where that aforementioned mixed bag of tones is more apparent, because when the movie tries to be scary or violent, it doesn’t always bring the emotional depth to those moments, losing a bit of the momentum the story has gained in those more intimate moments.
Overall, Leviticus is another solid addition to the string of Australian-made horror that focuses on the heart and emotion at the core of the terror. Chiarella’s unique approach to exploring queer romance and the homophobia that is still rife within outdated religious beliefs is brought to life through two brilliant lead performances, but unfortunately loses a bit of steam when it focuses too strongly on more generic horror tropes.
Leviticus releases in Australian cinemas on June 18
