Leviticus: a love story haunted by religion
Hidden behind a typical tale of possession, Leviticus reveals itself to be a tragic but beautiful tale that finds itself perfectly in time for Pride. Religion has long been associated with horror, with dozens of stories of exorcisms, deviant beings and vengeful spirits; Leviticus offers the idea of longing in the form of guilt.
The story itself is brought to us by a few familiar names, with producers Samantha Jennings and Kristina Ceyton once again attaching themselves to an Australian horror film with Talk to Me breakout star Joe Bird. The film tackles the concept of conversion therapy through a painful ritual, forcing the victim of the procedure to see the one they yearn for as a hidden and violent succubus. As our leads Ryan and Naim both have the ritual cast onto them, the film becomes horror in a new sense, entering a state of sorrow as the two lovers can no longer trust each other out of fear of being hunted.
It’s less than perfect even with its beauty. The first act runs itself slow, but makes up for it by offering us continuous glimpses into each character’s homelife. We understand that our leads live in a small town, but a highly religious one, with many of their neighbors never missing a moment of church. It's a familiar setting, feeling how lonesome the simple act of existing as a young, queer boy in a judgemental home can take hold on your mind.
Ryan is the laidback, cool kid while Naim is the child of a recently widowed mother who bares him no mind in his difficulties adjusting to life in their small city. You feel for him easily, especially as he develops stronger feelings for Ryan, struggling deeply to not judge himself even as Ryan reciprocates. Both are aware of how important it is to hide who they are, sometimes even with each other. Yet the aggressive and stern Ryan proves to be soft, caring and sensitive in a beautiful performance from Stacey Clausen. Once both boys are inflicted with the succubus, we see a consistently terrified and stress inducing side of Joe Bird. Both boys serve as more than credible scene partners as you sit there hurting for them in their fight for their lives.
The demon following them is simple to follow - they’re cursed by a religious zealot named “the deliverance healer” and soon thereafter the affected persons will see a violent and seductive version of the person they are in love with. Those around them cannot see the succubus, as is the case in many possession stories, causing the victim to appear ill when reacting to attacks. We only ever see the demonic version of Ryan attacking Naim, who despite knowing that the person he sees is not real, cannot help but nearly give in each time he appears.
The succubus is a great example of the treatment of homosexuality in the eye of religion. It’s evil, harmful and should not be an “act” to engage in. In each of the attacks on the boys, both of them cannot help but relent, even while they know the acts will result in their death. They both escape multiple acts by the skin of their teeth but cannot help their feelings in nearly falling for the demon each time. It can at times feel annoying watching our characters lack caution, but it somehow speaks to both boys' undeniable desire to be with one another.
The sequences of attacks build each time, growing more violent as the demon tries to kill its victim. They’re at times grotesque, or even off screen, never letting the audience or the boys feel safe. It’s the more standard horror aspect in the middle of a tragic story, bridging the gap until we have both boys actually together again. In one particular instance, in a desperate attempt to save his life, Naim reaches up to tenderly hold the demonic Ryan’s face - which breaks the facade for a moment. The succubus gives in, stopping its attack, because even the demon cannot help but break away from its purpose once given the attention it is meant to scare away.
Leviticus is not perfect, but it serves itself sweetly. There’s terror in the attacks and in the truth behind the church’s wishes to literally let the boys die if that’s what it takes to keep them apart. It’s tragically a beautiful watch in a scary time to be queer.
