“Leviticus” Pairs Heartbreak and Horror
Written by: Hannah Tran | July 4th, 2026
Leviticus (Adrian Chiarella, 2026) 4½ out of 5 stars
Adrian Chiarella’s feature debut, Leviticus, is many things at once. It’s as much a horrific tale of demonic entities as it is a thorny coming-of-age story, and it does a wonderful job at living in both those registers. Chiarella confidently renders the horror that emerges from denying who you are and who you want. Because above all, Leviticus is a love story, and this is where it truly transcends.
Set in an evangelical small town in Australia that feels as though it could very well be its own circle of Hell, Leviticus reckons with the shame and judgment that communities built on repression operate under. But things can grow even in the harshest of environments. And in the midst of the never-ending industrial drumming, a first love begins to bloom between new boy Naim and his classmate, Ryan. The simplicity of their connection is short-lived as, through a series of unfortunate events, they are eventually subject to a religious ritual that summons a violent entity which takes the shape of the person they most desire. For Naim and Ryan, that person is each other.

It’s much heavier than your typical creature-feature, which is to be expected for a movie that is essentially born from religious trauma and the real-life horror of conversion therapy. And although it is painful and genuinely scary, it is tethered by the moving relationship at its center. Just teenagers, Naim and Ryan’s love feels pure, intimate, and deeply romantic. The writing also allows these moments to breathe without ever feeling pressured to needlessly interrupt them by inserting horror just for thrills’ sake.
Lead actors Joe Bird (Talk to Me) and Stacy Clausen (True Spirit) bring so much honesty and nuance to this relationship. Naim’s fears about his attraction to Ryan and the possibility of having these feelings he’s kept hidden his entire life exposed is so palpable in Bird’s performance. Naim is a character who rarely expresses how he truly feels, yet you can see all of it in Bird’s eyes, and it’s devastating.

Director of Photography Tyson Perkins (The Bowraville Murders) also has an indispensable hand in bringing this bleak world to life. His thoughtful choices in framing and lighting create a shadowy, eerie, claustrophobic atmosphere. At other times, these same elements capture the breathtaking closeness between the two boys.
By its conclusion, Leviticus feels perhaps a tad slight in its narrative ambitions and its central metaphor occasionally lands with a little too much directness. Nevertheless, the journey of self-acceptance, of letting go of your shame and being honest about who you truly are, is one of the scariest, winding paths you can go down. And what makes Leviticus so uniquely affecting is that beyond all the horror and the heartbreak, its sense of hope feels like a warm embrace for those who have faced those demons.


