HERETIC manages to be terrifying because of the very civility each of the characters shows during the slow build-up to the, ahem, crux of the film. This fable for our times is a cleverly disguised dialectic not just on faith, but on the very human need to believe in something in the face of proof, dogmatic or otherwise, to the contrary. It is also the apotheosis of Hugh Grant’s third act as an actor, going from male ingenue, to rom-com paragon, and now to a master of the macabre, and all with that same gigawatt smile.
It’s that very smile that lends to much anxiety to the plight of two Mormon missionaries, Sister Paxton (Chloe East) and Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher), who begin the story by arriving at divine confirmation of the human soul via a discussion of the relative merits of viewing a porn film. That conversation is but the prelude to a worldview that juxtaposes the sacred and the profane in thought-provoking ways. Unlike that first conversation, and the glib gloss on history and philosophy that follow, the later musings address why it is that the human race needs religion. It is the action of the film that, and in a stunning extrapolation of the need for certainty, grapples with what happens when that need becomes an obsession.
That worldview comes via Mr. Reed (Grant), an affable man with a corny sense of humor who welcomes the missionaries into his home for a chat about his immortal soul and how it can get to heaven. The young women are delighted with what seems to be an easy proselytizing session, assured of blueberry pie, which become of parable of faith in things unseen, meeting Mr. Reed’s wife, and what promises to be Sister Barnes’ very first conversion. Slowly, Mr. Reed’s questions about The Church of Latter-Day Saints becomes more pointed, his knowledge of his history and theology oddly vast, and the existence of Mrs. Reed more and more in doubt. Of course it will all go wrong for Srs. Paxton and Barnes, who are manipulated into venturing further and further into Mr. Reed’s home and sermonized about his theory of the re-iterative nature of holy stories, and the diminishing returns of organized religion.
The tension arises not from overt threats, but from the implications of what Mr. Reed’s charming smile implies. The creepiest part of which involves the fact that the smile radiating from Mr. Reed never changes from the affable middle-aged man who meets them at the door when the fanatic who threatens their existence emerges. It is such an effective performance that it may color Mr. Grant’s previous work as a romantic lead, as he smiles with wonder at the object of his affections. It is his absolute conviction in presenting Mr. Reed’s theories, the way he convinces us of his sincerity, that engenders the greatest fear. This is a pernicious kind of insanity that cannot be reasoned with because it is a logic that is not on this plane of reality, and thereby unshakable as our belief in the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.
The two young women’s transition from delight to suspicion to terror is a gradual build, as their religion-bred cheerfulness is tested with Mr. Reed’s growing peculiarity. Filmmakers Scott Beck and Bryan Woods have a genius for making the quotidian eerie, make the revelation of a candle’s scent heart-stopping, and use acute visuals to make a reverse angle of a basement’s abyss an inescapable black hole. The ominous feeling that there is something off is present from the moment the missionaries see the house, rain soaked with an overgrown yard and a lingering note of isolation despite its presence in a suburb. The interiors, vintage with warm colors, have a cold sterility to them, a sense of order that is overweening and slightly alarming. It is an externalization of obsession, not tidiness.
HERETIC does not give us typical damsels in distress so much as women acculturated to being polite and deferential. Sister Paxton is demure in ankle socks and Mary Janes, but fearless in her talking points. Sister Barnes, whose mother converted the family when Barnes was a child, is more forthright, both in the fine points of theology and politics, and in improvising ways to escape even when all seems hopeless. East and Thatcher create distinct characters with layers of nuance to them, and for us, to discover.
If HERETIC’s second act drags a bit, it is a small price to pay for a horror film that is intellectually stimulating as well as gut-level terrifying. Unpredictable and often puckish, the territory explored is fascinating and provocative as it presents its most uncomfortable thesis on the downside of overthinking something,
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