The most widely celebrated English translation of the Bible is the King James Version. Leviticus chapter 18, verse 22 of that translation reads: “Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.”
I have very little doubt that director Adrian Chiarella chose the title for this film with the purpose of reminding us of that verse. Leviticus is not necessarily an anti-religion movie, but it is furious with the homophobic practices endorsed by Christianity, and lays the blame at the feet of both church leadership and church membership.
That fury is not evenly distributed throughout the film. Instead, it oscillates between several different modes. Sometimes, yes, it’s a political statement; other times, it’s a heart-pounding horror-thriller, and at other times, it’s a touching coming-of-age film. Chiarella balances all of these different modes beautifully, if not perfectly, to deliver the best horror film of the year. In 2026, that’s saying something.
The acting in the film is solid, anchored by lead performances from Joe Bird and Stacy Clausen. But it’s the storytelling that really makes this film as good as it is. One is best situated not knowing much of anything about the plot going in, as the mystery of the film slowly unravels bit by bit, dropping major revelations at perfectly chosen intervals. While the film isn’t completely free of plot holes, it feels so well-calculated to make the audience interested. This interest is mostly held during the last two-thirds of the movie, which can make one forget how slow the opening parts of the film are, but for a film that premiered at Sundance and whose main purpose is social commentary, that shouldn’t come as a huge shock.
The film excels at its portrayal of homosexual youth, because they’re mostly just portrayed as young men who happen to be in love. Without straight-washing the main characters, Chiarella portrays his protagonists as normal, which would help audiences of any sexual orientation identify with them. Not everyone in the audience will be a sexual minority, but most of them will have been cheated on, felt like nobody believed them, or deathly afraid of something stronger than them.
Leviticus is not free of error when it comes to portrayal of minorities. There is barely any racial diversity. Worse, women are portrayed as villainous more often than they are portrayed neutrally or heroically combined. That being said, this film should receive high praise for its representation of homosexual men, and for that reason alone I think it satisfies a reasonable definition of strong representation.
If Backrooms was like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari combined with Hereditary, then Leviticus is like A Nightmare on Elm Street combined with It Follows. The terror comes from a mix of not being believed, being lured by a presence that you are naturally attracted to, and the feeling that nowhere is safe. But most of all, the originator of the dread is the feeling that this horrible situation is your fault. Even though from the very beginning the audience knows that’s not the case, the film subtly tells us that the main characters do blame themselves, and this reflects much of the self-loathing that has been imposed of LGBTQ+ people throughout history.
Like most, if not all young people, Leviticus is imperfect. But like any responsible and empathetic parent, I love it anyways. The goal of both the protagonist and the movie itself ultimately becomes shedding the internalized shame we bare that society imposes and our psychology reinforces. Leviticus deals with traits that aren’t actually flaws, but anybody struggling with shame should find some solace in this film. I highly recommend it as it caps off a marathon of recent horror success stories, and I hope it becomes another one.
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