Shoppers and cinephiles are flocking to queer stories this Pride season, and Adrian Chiarella’s Leviticus is turning heads , a tense Australian horror that mixes young gay love with an eerie supernatural threat, exploring homophobia in surprising, visceral ways. It’s one to watch when you want scares with heart.

Essential Takeaways

  • Quick hook: Leviticus centres on two gay teens haunted by an entity that appears as the person they’re most attracted to, creating intense, intimate scares.
  • Emotional core: The film examines homophobia in many forms , internalised, well-meaning and ugly , rather than just one obvious villain.
  • Standout performances: Joe Bird and Mia Wasikowska bring quiet, brittle realism; the familial scenes feel lived-in and uneasy.
  • Runtime and pacing: At about 88 minutes, it’s a compact, breathless watch that keeps momentum and dread.
  • Mood note: Expect a moody Australian atmosphere, tender moments between boys and sudden, unsettling horror beats.

A fresh horror hook that feels personal and claustrophobic

Leviticus opens with a simple, chilling premise: something summoned to “fix” a boy’s sexuality instead becomes a menacing presence. That immediate, intimate danger gives the film a claustrophobic, almost suffocating feel, where attraction and fear are tangled. According to interviews with director Adrian Chiarella, the creature’s form , the person you’re most attracted to , was conceived as a direct metaphor for attempts to scare people away from their desires. It’s a neat subversion of the monster trope, and it lands with a quiet, sinister thud.

More than conversion therapy: a wider conversation on homophobia

It’s easy to read Leviticus as a direct critique of conversion therapy, but Chiarella has said he intended something broader, wanting to capture homophobia in its many shades. That means scenes where a mother thinks she’s protecting her child, or where social and cultural nudges shame desire, are as menacing as any ritual. This gives the film a layered emotional weight , you feel the love and the harm at the same time , and that’s what lifts it above a straight horror pastiche into something more resonant.

Small cast, big performances , intimacy drives the fear

The film keeps its focus tight: Joe Bird’s portrayal of one of the teens is quietly magnetic, and Mia Wasikowska as his mother brings a brittle, convincing concern that flips from tenderness to terror. Their interactions sell the emotional stakes, so when the supernatural intrudes it hurts in a human way. Reviews from outlets that saw early screenings praise the performances for grounding the more surreal moments, which makes the scares feel earned rather than gratuitous.

Short runtime, steady tension , perfect for a Pride night out

At roughly 88 minutes, Leviticus doesn’t overstay its welcome, and that compactness plays to its advantage. It builds dread efficiently, moves between tender queer beats and brutal horror set pieces, and keeps the focus on character rather than spectacle. For viewers who want a Pride-themed movie with bite , literal and emotional , it’s a tidy, effective choice that pairs well with post-movie debate over its themes.

Where it sits in the current horror landscape

Summer 2026 has seen mainstream horror hits, and Leviticus offers something different: a queer-centred horror that isn’t just representation for the sake of it, but uses genre mechanics to interrogate prejudice. Critics and festival write-ups have flagged its originality; industry chatter suggests it could become a notable title among queer horror fans. Whether it becomes a box-office juggernaut or a cult favourite, it’s already staking a claim as a thoughtful, scary addition to this year’s slate.

It’s a small change that can make every scare mean something more.

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