PARK CITY – Adrian Chiarella’s “Leviticus,” a world premiere at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival, is not the first horror movie centered around conversion therapy. Granted, there have only been a handful, including some of the short variety, but perhaps the reality of what this archaic “treatment” entails is too terrifying for queer filmmakers to wrap their heads around. Chiarella has found an in by centering the narrative on a potentially tragic love story. And, in doing so, has crafted a riviting work that will haunt you for days.
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“Leviiticus” begins with a prologue at an indoor swimming pool. A lifeguard is closing down the facility when a showerhead turns on in an adjacent shower stall. Chiarella captures this moment from a distance, but it’s clear this girl sees someone in the stall. She’s speaking to someone, something who coaxes her under the water. She’s soon naked and being pleasured by someone out of frame, or that’s what it seems. It quickly becomes apparent that there is no one else there. Thrown to the ground, she screams, and within minutes her bloody hands appear in the frame, grasping for life. Something wicked this way comes, indeed.
An unspecified time later, two teenagers, Naim (Joe Bird, impressive) and Ryan (Stacy Clausen, a star in the making), are sneaking into an abandoned factory on the outskirts of a small Australian town (the production was filmed in Victoria, but the location is intentionally never identified). They throw rocks at each other – honestly, disarming – but it’s all in fun. There’s an undeniable spark between the two of them. Ryan sees something familiar in Naim, and they embrace in a passionate kiss. But Naim is nervous and pulls away. That’s all for today, at least.
As the days and weeks progress, the boys become more enamoured with each other while keeping their bond secret at school and home. Their families attend a conservative, borderline evangelical church. In fact, we later learn that Naim’s mother, Arlene (Mia Wasikowska, ready to surprise), has recently moved both herself and Naim to this remote enclave specifically to practice her newfound faith. Far from the distractions of more liberal enclaves.
Things take a turn when Naim stops by Ryan’s home, only to witness his crush throwing rocks at their classmate, the son of their church pastor, Hunter (Jeremy Blewitt, authentic), in the backyard. The two fall into lust-fueled passion, and devastation sweeps across Naim’s face. He then does something rash. Something out of spite. Something he’ll regret.
In a moment that makes you want to squirm in your seat, both Hunter and Ryan are on their knees in front of the congregation, rolling their eyes at the Deliverance Healer (Nicholas Hope, see you in the sequel), who has been called in to cast out the perverse spirits infesting them. Again, the film is titled “Leviticus.” A reference to a verse in the bible that suggests you “pray the gay away.” But it all seems like a silly lark until the Healer lights a match, both young men’s eyes fill with fear, and they begin to convulse on the ground. Don’t expect the film to spell out who this Healer is or what supernatural forces he’s tapped into, but this evil is not queer specific. Hunter and Ryan eventually learn they are being chased by an entity taking the form of their heart’s desire. Whatever or whoever that might be.
There is another heartbreaking betrayal, and in one of the more genuinely chilling scenes in the film, Niam is also forceably cursed. He discovers the only way he can feel relatively safe is to be around other people. To never be alone. Something that’s often unsustainable, especially in this relatively unpopulated town.
Until this point, Chiarella has intentionally not shown the victim’s perspective, and it turns out to be a deceptively smart choice. The last third of the film ratchets up the tension tenfold as the audience and Niam are never quite sure whether the real Ryan or the violent entity is on screen. Both actors are impressive throughout, but Clausen is working on another level here. When Clausen is, in fact, the entity, he never overplays it, never goes for a devilish wink at the camera. Clearly, this is at Chiarella’s direction, but Clausen deserves credit for keeping this monolithic spirit, for lack of a better word, grounded. It only compounds the tragedy that Niam and Ryan’s characters endure.
Admittedly, as fantastic as the last act is, “Leviticus” may be less gory and bloody than true horror fans expect. There is also the obvious metaphor that only the ignorant, in this case the church, view being gay as a curse and by attempting to cast out something inherent to their flock, inflict their fears onto the innocent. But at its heart, the film is a love story. A love story about two souls who need to trust each other if they want to survive. Bird and Clausen portray the connection between Niam and Ryan with such grace, with such genuine affection, that the last thing you want is a gory ending. You want them to live. You want them to find some semblance of a happy ending. Even if, like any queer person, they are always looking over their shoulder for the inevitable evil that’s lurking around the corner. An inescapable evil that wants to destroy them. [A-/B+]
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Editor-at-Large Gregory Ellwood is one of the entertainment industry's most respected journalists and critics. Based in Los Angeles, he's the only current awards expert who previously worked on Oscar campaigns at a major movie studio. Over the years, he has written for the LA Times, Variety, The Hollywood Reporter, and Vox, among others. He also co-founded the entertainment news site HitFix, which spawned a legion of influential Emmy and WGA Award-winning alumni.
