My mother has said a lot of things in my life that will always haunt me. Perhaps the most hurtful was when she said she would rather have a dead child than a gay one. I was, in fact, a teenager at the time, so you can only imagine how that statement registered.
Now, I didn’t mean to bring up this personal story to make others feel uncomfortable, and I certainly don’t want any sympathy. It’s actually a very shameful thing to admit. I merely mentioned this moment because it kept playing in my head as I watched Leviticus.
Adrian Chiarella‘s debut is a film that is, at least for some portion of the population, likely to stir up feelings about one’s own coming-out. Based on the plot, it’s hard not to go down that road in your head. Yet as much as that could be a deterrent, Leviticus is also reassuring. Not necessarily in the belief that others will eventually change and accept us, but rather we don’t have to stay and wait for that day to come.
From its industrial decay to its outmoded social attitudes, Leviticus is a very accessible film for many viewers. It’s also a story where the old and the new are always in opposition. Not everyone is shown to be as struggling as the main characters, Naim and Ryan (Joe Bird, Stacy Clausen); most others are complacent with their mundane and stifling lives. Whereas these two teenage boys want more from the world, as well as each other.
As teens often do, they behave messily whenever their hormones are raging. Hence the film’s menacing concept; a regretful decision leads the local church to use a sort of hypnosis to make people like Naim and Ryan become scared of who they desire most. It’s quite unlike anything you’ve heard about in typical conversion therapy (I use the term “therapy” lightly).
From there Leviticus follows through on a fairly unique horror concept. The execution does evoke memories of It Follows and maybe even Smile; all these films have stalking entities who toy with people’s perceptions. Here, though, is that additional layer of lust that just adds to the overall tension. It’s a truly evil idea that, despite some repetitive and not-so-innovative chase sequences involves, sends shivers up and down the spine.
More effective are the performances in Leviticus. Puppy-eyed, pleading Naim would be easy to hate if you’ve never had your heart broken and wanted to lash out; his characterization rings so true of my own embarrassing adolescence. Bird’s portrayal, however, ensures your sense of clemency is never out of reach for Naim. Clausen, on the other hand, is the more aggressive of the duo. The show-stealer, in most scenes. Clausen is perfectly cast as that magnetic, mysterious type who makes the threat of danger alluring.
The ending may be decisive for some, but going in that direction works in the story’s best interest. It’s the salve for everything else here that burns. And for a lot of traumatized queer folks, surely they can accept a resolution where the characters choose their own outcome.
Leviticus opens in theaters nationwide on June 19.
Tales from the Paulside 
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