Over the last two decades, Australia has become one of the most exciting forces in horror cinema. From Wolf Creek, which grew into a successful franchise and television series, to modern classics like The Loved Ones, The Babadook, Talk to Me, and Bring Her Back, Australian filmmakers have consistently delivered some of the genre’s most distinctive voices. Their films often tackle universal fears and emotions—grief, obsession, parenthood, trauma, and violence—through fresh and deeply personal perspectives.
Now, Leviticus, the latest horror feature from Adrian Chiarella, turns its attention toward a subject that feels especially relevant in today’s social and political climate.
Being a teenager is difficult. Being a queer teenager can be even harder. The fear of standing out, the struggle for self-acceptance, and the constant anxiety of how others perceive you can make everyday life feel terrifying. For many young people, those experiences already resemble the emotional landscape of a horror film.
Thankfully, horror has increasingly become a space for these stories. Over the years, filmmakers have embraced the genre as a powerful way to explore queer identity, transforming real-world fears into monsters, nightmares, and allegories that speak to audiences on a deeply personal level. Leviticus joins that growing tradition, using horror not only to frighten, but also to reflect the challenges of growing up, finding yourself, and learning to survive in a world filled with hatred and discomfort towards diverse sexual identities.
Leviticus tells the story of first love between two teenagers, Naim and Ryan, played by Joe Bird and Stacey Claussen. Living in a small, deeply religious town, their relationship is exposed after an act fueled by jealousy. Once their sexuality becomes public, their community quickly turns against them, subjecting them to an ancient ritual designed to force them back onto what is considered “God’s path.”
Soon, the pair find themselves haunted by a malevolent supernatural entity. The creature takes the form of the person each desires most. In a chilling twist, the monster wears their own faces. Their greatest source of comfort and affection becomes a constant reminder of fear, guilt, and repression.
Through this premise, Leviticus delivers a sharp examination of homophobia and religious intolerance. The film understands that rejection does not always come from strangers. Sometimes, the deepest wounds are inflicted by the people who claim to love and protect you. As Naim and Ryan struggle to survive, they are forced to suppress their feelings, avoid one another, and live in constant fear of their own desires. Every attempt to embrace who they are carries consequences, while the community surrounding them offers neither support nor refuge.
Rather than presenting homophobia as an abstract social issue, Leviticus portrays it as a tangible horror. The film transforms shame, isolation, and self-denial into a literal monster, creating a powerful metaphor for the emotional and psychological damage caused by intolerance.
Leviticus opens nationwide June 19.
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