By Sarah Osman

A queer horror romance turns conversion therapy into a chilling supernatural curse—and a potent metaphor for fear, shame, and survival.

Leviticus, directed by Adrian Chiarella. Screening at AMC Boston Common 19, Alamo Drafthouse Seaport, and several nearby suburban theaters, including AMC DINE-IN Framingham 16 and AMC Liberty Tree Mall 20.

A scene from Leviticus. Photo: Neon

Leviticus is a book in the Old Testament that has been used to justify anti-LGBTQ+ laws and behavior. And it is this very theme that drives the story of Leviticus, a queer horror romance that will resonate for many long after the credits roll.

Set in the Australian bush, the film follows Naim (Joe Bird), who moves to an industrial town with his mother (Mia Wasikowska). There, he develops a fun, flirtatious romance with Ryan (Stacy Clausen). The two wrestle, tease each other, and make out—an easy portrait of young love. Meanwhile, Naim’s mother brings him to a church with unmistakably cult-like vibes. When Naim catches Ryan kissing Hunter (Jeremy Blewitt), his hurt curdles into an act of betrayal — he reports the pair to the church’s preacher. A chilling inversion of an exorcism follows: it is a conversion therapy ritual that culminates in putting a curse on its victims From that moment on, a demonic entity stalks the pair whenever they are alone — it can take on the form of the person each desires most.

Naim and Ryan are immediately trapped in a waking nightmare. Each encounter becomes uncertain: are they seeing each other, or something else entirely—something intent on killing them?

The film has been described as a gay It Follows. The comparison is understandable, but Leviticus stands firmly on its own terms and in the process sets a new benchmark for queer horror. Director Adrian Chiarella lingers on industrial warehouses and looming towers, crafting a compelling atmosphere that combines the stark with the uncanny. That said, much of the film’s terror emerges from its use of familiarity: the ordinariness of the town, the recognizable rhythms of teenage life, the unsettling resemblance of its church to real institutions across the world. Yes, there are the expected jump scares, an unsettling sound design, and flashes of gore, but Leviticus is grounded where it matters most. The film’s supernatural premise may strain belief, but its emotional and social realities do not. Conversion therapy, religious rejection, and the internalized shame imposed on queer youth are not inventions—they are ongoing experiences, and the film’s deepest horror lies in how it taps into that reality.

The demonic presence at the film’s center operates as a layered metaphor. It evokes the absence of parental support, the dread of harming those we love, and the overwhelming intensity of first love. The device may also call to mind the AIDS crisis, when countless lives were lost amid collective fear and stigma. The film wisely resists trying to explicate its symbolism; instead, it invites continued interpretation well beyond the theater.

Bird and Clausen deliver strong performances — these are actors to watch. They waver, convincingly, between tenderness and desperation without sliding into melodrama. The leads anchor the narrative, but the supporting cast sharpens the story’s edge. Wasikowska is particularly striking as Naim’s distant mother, a woman whose conviction in her own righteousness leads her to make devastating choices. Arrayed around her, the congregation watches in silence as irreparable harm is done — their blank expressions a mask for moral failure among the faithful.

Leviticus ultimately turns its gaze outward, shifting from individual characters to a wider social reckoning. It suggests that those who remain passive in the face of suffering may be among the most dangerous of all. The film’s closing moments deepen this intimation of omnipresent unease: even when happiness appears to be a possibility, the forces that threaten it have not vanished. They linger, unresolved and watchful.

Sarah Mina Osman is based in Los Angeles. In addition to The Arts Fuse, her writing can be found in The Huffington Post, Success Magazine, Matador Network, HelloGiggles, Business Insider, and WatchMojo. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina Wilmington and is working on her first novel. She has a deep appreciation for sloths and tacos. You can keep up with her on Instagram @SarahMinaOsman and at Bluesky @sarahminaosman.bsky.social.