Leviticus SXSW Review

One of the many reasons I love film is that it can talk about things we don’t always want to talk about. Movies understand that some topics are difficult, and they use storytelling to open up those conversations. I’m sure, like me, you’ve walked out of a movie—especially in a group—and ended up talking not just about what you saw, but how it made you feel.

One of the genres that does this best is horror. And Adrian Chiarella’s new film, Leviticus, not only delivers some great scares, but also tells a story that doesn’t get talked about nearly enough.

Leviticus opens in a genuinely unsettling way. A girl working late at a public pool notices someone in the showers she thinks she recognizes—but no one is actually there. What starts as something eerie quickly turns terrifying, as sounds of pleasure turn into screams of fear and pain when she’s attacked by something only she can see.

We’re then introduced to Naim (Joe Bird), who’s outside messing around with another boy, Ryan (Stacy Clausen). At first, it feels like typical teenage energy—just two boys joking around—but things take a turn when they find themselves alone inside an empty building. What follows reveals something deeper between them, as they share a moment that shows there’s real attraction and chemistry there—something we, as the audience, can’t ignore.

Of course, it’s something they feel they have to keep hidden.

Naim lives with his mother (Mia Wasikowska), who has brought them to this town to be part of a strict Christian parish—one that Ryan is also connected to. As long as they keep things quiet, they might be able to avoid judgment. But that fragile balance is shattered when Naim sees Ryan with the pastor’s son (Jeremy Blewitt) and, in a moment of confusion and hurt, tells the pastor what he saw.

This is where the horror of Leviticus really kicks in.

Ryan and the pastor’s son are subjected to a ritual meant to “cleanse” them of their feelings. After that, things begin to spiral. Naim is eventually pulled into the same ritual, leading him to discover something that will stay with him for the rest of his life.

Written and directed by Chiarella, Leviticus may remind some people of It Follows, but it very much stands on its own. This is a film that leans into emotional weight just as much as it does horror. It’s violent when it needs to be, but it never loses sight of the humanity at its core.

At its heart, this feels like a story told by someone who believes in queer love and wants to protect it—even when it’s under attack.

Chiarella takes a more restrained approach to horror tropes, but that doesn’t make the scares any less effective. In fact, there are moments—especially one perfectly timed jump scare—that hit even harder because of that restraint.

Leviticus is a genuinely scary film, but what makes it stick is how it uses horror to explore the weight of both religious and social pressure. It’s a story that feels deeply personal, as much as it is terrifying.

The emotional core of the film lies with Naim, but the rest performances are also outstanding. Joe Bird and Clausen are phenomenal, bringing a raw, visceral quality to moments of fear that feel incredibly real. But it’s not all fear—their relationship is also tender and, at times, sensual, which makes you root for them even more.

While the film plays with familiar horror elements, it also pushes beyond them, exploring the darker intersections of identity and faith in a way that feels honest and impactful.

I love horror films like Leviticus. You can clearly see the influences, but it’s also obvious that Chiarella has a strong voice of his own—and it feels like he has a lot more ahead of him.

I loved this movie. Not only does it tell a powerful story, but it absolutely sticks the landing, leaving you with something to think—and talk—about long after it ends.