The following review contains spoilers for Leviticus

Leviticus is an arresting debut from Melbourne-based writer-director Adrian Chiarella, a brutal exposition of shame in an intensely religious rural town. 

The film follows Naim (Joe Bird) and Ryan (Stacy Clausen) as they foster a strikingly tender relationship under the heavy surveillance and regulation of the church—the primary moral institution and community nexus within their rural Australian town. Spurred by jealousy, Naim outs Ryan and his other covert lover, Hunter (Jeremey Blewitt), to the local pastor. In an attempt to remedy their sexual abnormality, Ryan and Hunter are “cleansed” by a deliverance healer and thus enter a cursed state of possession, which Naim later falls victim to through the betrayal of his mother. The premise of the curse is that “cleansed” individuals are stalked and attacked by a violent doppelganger of the person they desire most.

Despite the supernatural factor, the film remains incredibly grounded. The doppelgangers aren’t ghostly or overtly paranormal—instead they are brutal and terrifyingly real. The horror is amplified by the threat of local homophobic aggressors and neglectful families and authorities. Unable to trust even each other, Naim and Ryan are infected with an intense paranoia and learn to fear their own desires.

While religious guilt and homophobia are by no means a new subject in film, seeing them reflected onto the Australian landscape felt revelatory. The constant layer of oppressive smog from smokestacks in the background and the relentless screeching of cockatoos create a suffocating atmosphere, compounded by the tense soundtrack by Australian Jed Kurzel. The cinematography is bleak, the colour palette is muted and the composition is unsettling; something is always hidden, something is always exposed.

The film’s distinctly Australian atmosphere and identity make sense given the support it received from VicScreen’s Originate initiative, a Victorian government program which provides development and funding for commercial cinema projects. Leviticus is deeply resonant with the experience of queerness in Australia and highlights the importance of state level support in helping local filmmakers bring their underrepresented stories and identities to life on the screen.

The run time is quite short at 88 minutes, and consequently the pacing is intense and unforgiving. Despite this, the unrelenting horror is balanced by moments of sincere tenderness between Naim and Ryan, enhanced by a genuine chemistry between the two leads. There is a wordlessness to their relationship that makes it feel sacred and intimate. In stolen moments free from the watchful eye of the church, they inhabit their own private world, bathed in golden light and temporarily unburdened by paranoia and shame. While Joe Bird portrays Naim as hesitant and conflicted, Ryan has a boyish charm which exacerbates the uncanniness of his double. Stacy Clausen’s ability to switch between a charismatic teen and a malevolent entity is highly commendable. While some of the dialogue was a bit corny or cliché, it felt like a true ode to Aussie teen boy awkwardness. 

This contrast between the two main characters allows the film to explore the tension between desire and fear. Ryan isn’t ashamed of his sexuality so much as he fears the repercussions of it, whereas Naim has a deeply internalised hatred towards his identity, which motivates him to out Ryan and Hunter and confess his relationship with Ryan to the police.

Originally, I found myself underwhelmed by the ending, which seemed anticlimactic after the sustained tension and extreme violence that preceded it. I expected something violent, loud, doomed. On second thought, however, I enjoy the way it subverted my expectations. I was prepared for a tragedy but was instead given a glimmer of hope.

It’s a nice change in pace from the typically doomed queer horror genre, a reminder that there is always a path forward, born from acceptance rather than driven by hatred. The tagline “it will never stop” refers not to the curse but to the desire that cannot be erased by any amount of shame or “cleansing”. Leviticus is brutal and horrifying, but cautiously optimistic.

Leviticus comes to Australian cinemas on 18 June.