Leviticus: Stacy Clausen and Joe Bird – Photo: Neon
Leviticus, the debut feature from Australian writer-director Adrian Chiarella, reimagines the real-life practice of conversion therapy as not only a psychological and emotional trauma, but a supernatural curse aimed at scaring LGBTQ youth straight.
This demonic curse is conjured, ironically, by an ultra-conservative Christian ritual intended to heal Aussie high schoolers Naim (Joe Bird) and Ryan (Stacy Clausen) of their gay “lust, indecency, and desire.”
The even more potent irony is that this rite releases a deadly entity that terrorizes Naim and Ryan while assuming the form of the person they most desire — each other. That should force them to keep their hands to themselves, praise the lord.
Fearing for their lives, along with the chilling uncertainty of whether they’re staring at their beloved or his demon double, definitely could turn the amorous pair against each other. It’s a solid setup by Chiarella, but, ultimately, the brilliant premise is dulled by slack pacing and the film’s tendency to repeat itself instead of taking the madness further.
Before Naim and Ryan confront their demons, though, the movie gets off to a compelling start bringing this odd couple together. Awkward Naim fills us in by pointing out to blonde jock Ryan that he acts “totally different” around Naim at school than when they’re hanging out alone together for the first time.
An impromptu kiss, underlining their simmering attraction, provides all the explanation Naim needs for Ryan’s sudden change. To its credit, the movie essays the beats of gay coming-of-age romance swiftly and concisely, played with heartfelt longing, particularly by Bird, a standout in the 2022 horror hit Talk to Me, in which he played another youngster beset by evil spirits.
Here, with a few well-placed turns, Naim and Ryan’s teenage dream warps into a religion-fueled nightmare. Dropping us into Sunday service at the church Naim attends with his single mother Arlene (Mia Wasikowska), Leviticus needs only a couple shots of the congregation — everyone swaying, hands upraised, closed eyes lifted to the light — to depict how devoutly this community worships their god.
Ryan’s a member of this strict church, too, along with another boy their age, Hunter (Jeremy Blewitt). Hunter’s an enigma, with a fascinating way of expressing his gay attraction through brutish violence. His arrival in the story also portends a love triangle.
Indeed, it’s jealousy that leads to the boys being outed, and community elders calling in the “Deliverance Healer” (Nicholas Hope, effectively creepy). Then, out comes the deadly entity, invisible to all but the targeted victim, who, of course, sees the one they most desire.
Once these paranormal parameters are firmly established, the plot, more or less, plateaus, cycling through sequence after sequence of a boy being chased by his demon, and escaping, or, then not escaping. Save for one or two mild jump scares, goosed by percussive sound effects, the stalking-rinse-repeat becomes a heavy-footed routine.
Naim beats the dead horse of trying to get anyone to believe his tales of what’s happening, but his mom, practically sleepwalking through her devoutly ordered life, does not appear to be an ally.
Wasikowska projects a weariness in the role that borders on lethargic, but fits the film’s deadly serious tone and listless atmosphere, as the supernatural scenario lumbers on, feinting at actually delivering a fatal blow. Finally, someone takes action that pushes the plot towards its climax, a welcome escalation that still might come too late to re-energize the dead air.
Leviticus (★★☆☆☆) is rated R and playing in theaters nationwide. Visit fandango.com.
Leo Woodall first made a splash in the Italy-set second season of The White Lotus portraying a duplicitous gigolo hired by those gays trying to murder Jennifer Coolidge's daffy heiress.
The English actor has since bedded Bridget Jones in the Emmy-nominated Peacock feature Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy, led AppleTV's thriller series Prime Target as a queer mathematician on the run from shadowy government agencies, and acted through 15 years of a boy-meets-girl love story in Netflix's limited series One Day.
Poised for a bigger breakout, Woodall makes the most of his first big-screen starring role in Tuner, as a New York piano tuner drawn into a life of crime.
Before it all falls fabulously apart in The Play That Goes Wrong, and every sort of onstage disaster befalls the hapless cast of the play within the play, we have to believe that these members of a local drama society truly believe in their little production that could.
Because they fight hard for it. Even as cues are missed, lines are forgotten, fixtures fall off the walls, and actors are rendered unconscious, this fictional company bands together and wills their show to go on.
That indefatigable determination and showmanship was baked into the comic soufflé by the show's creators Henry Lewis, Jonathan Sayer, and Henry Shields of London's Mischief Theatre Company, and it courses through the gung-ho cast of Keegan Theatre's new production of The Play That Goes Wrong, directed by Michael Innocenti.
Colorado Gov. Jared Polis has signed a law allowing survivors of conversion therapy to sue for damages under the state's medical malpractice law.
Polis signed the bill on June 1, the first day of Pride Month, at The Center on Colfax, an LGBTQ community center in Denver, reports Colorado Newsline.
The Democratic governor also signed an executive order directing state agencies to ensure that no state funds are used to cover the cost of, or reimburse practitioners for, efforts to forcibly change a person's sexual orientation or gender identity.
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