Generally, when a horror villain punishes young people’s sexualities, the ‘sin’ they’re going after is *lust*; horny camp counsellors in Friday the 13th, the popular slutty cheerleader in Halloween, pretty much anyone who engages in casual sex in It Follows. Where Adrian Chiarella’s debut, Leviticus, finds its separation from that pack, then, is in having his heartless slasher pick its targets for their *love*. It adds a welcome and nicely played romanticism to this homophobia-fuelled Aussie horror, the core ingredient elevating what is otherwise a simply decently made demon-stalker slasher that constantly riffs on It Follows without ever being as scary or stylish as its inspiration.
Set in an ultra-Christian, ultra-conservative community in rural Australia, Leviticus follows Naim (Joe Bird) and Ryan (Stacy Clausen), a pair of 17-year-old boys who don’t really interact at school but, when no-one else is around, have a budding romance that they find thrilling, terrifying, and generally overwhelming by turns. They’ve agreed to keep their relationship a secret, but when Naim accidentally catches Ryan kissing another boy in their class, he outs Ryan to his homophobic parents in a moment of unforgiveable but completely believable scorned teenage petulance. With the help of Naim’s own mother (a rare and welcome screen appearance from Mia Wasikowska), who moved to this community specifically for its religious traditionalism, an anti-gay ‘exorcism’ is performed on Ryan that ends up unleashing a demon.
This demon takes the form of whoever its intended victim most desires – which in Naim and Ryan’s case is one another – but, crucially, is invisible to everyone except its target. If a super-strong, romantically transmitted, invisible killer sounds very It Follows on paper, it’s even more so in practice – the entity here even has the It Follows habit of advancing slowly yet inexorably as the camera holds on it, waiting for the inevitable.
It’s nowhere near as frightening or as interestingly framed here as the same concept was in David Robert Mitchell’s 2014 film, and in constantly drawing the comparison, Leviticus does itself a real disservice. Chiarelli’s script is strongest when it really focuses in on Naim and Ryan’s connection. The moments they make each other laugh are just as strong as the paranoia-induced friction that comes later; a giggly tryst at the back of a sparsely populated bus will probably linger longer in the memory than a shocking paranormal beheading. Leviticus is definitely gorier than its spiritual predecessor, but Chiarelli never tips into full bloodbath mode, which suits the surprisingly gentle and kind tone. More tender than scary in the end, Leviticus stands in the shadows of its obvious inspirations, but finds a warmth that other horrors would rarely dare to bother with.
Jack Blackwell – Film Reviews 