Heretic, directed by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, is a genre-bending film that draws viewers into a dark, thought-provoking thriller, packed with tension and laced with questions about faith, autonomy, and power. Here, Beck and Woods trade in jump scares for dialogue-heavy exchanges that unspool in a claustrophobic setting.
This film doesn’t aim for simple shocks or catharsis but instead aims to unsettle the audience in a manner that reverberates long after the credits roll.
The story centres on two Mormon missionaries, Sisters Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) and Paxton (Chloe East), who arrive at the home of Mr. Reed (Hugh Grant). Grant, in his best role to date, trading brilliantly on his foppish charmer of yesteryear, is a man of wealth, solitude, and intellectual cynicism.
What begins as a seemingly routine missionary visit quickly devolves into a high-stakes verbal showdown as Reed challenges the sisters’ faith with razor-sharp scepticism and plunges the audience into intense theological debates, reminiscent of works like Silence and First Reformed, demanding that we consider what happens when faith is weaponized.
Mr. Reed stands as Heretic’s most chilling element. Grant brings a layered approach to Reed, blending erudition with malice.
He’s not an overt monster but a charismatic intellectual whose home is adorned with an eerie mix of religious relics from various traditions—a setting that acts as a foreboding backdrop for the film’s ideological clashes.
Reed’s exchanges with the missionaries are tinged with enough veracity to make his challenges to faith resonate. His provocations push Sister Barnes and Paxton to confront not only their own beliefs but the stark realities of their vulnerabilities.
Heretic uses Grant’s performance to explore themes of control, autonomy, and the lengths individuals go to assert their dominance over others and conjure extreme tension without traditional horror mechanics. Beck and Woods use confined spaces and tight cinematography to heighten a sense of entrapment.
The mise-en-scène itself is practically a character, with every inch of Reed’s home revealing glimpses into his psyche. The setting is neither a sanctuary nor a prison—it’s both, and that ambivalence is where Heretic finds its psychological terror. In this, the film reminds one of Funny Games, where horror is found in the inability to extricate yourself from obvious danger, paralysed by good manners and the meticulous, escalating breakdown of the social contract between guest and host.
The film takes a cerebral approach, addressing both religious zealotry and philosophical disillusionment without prescribing an easy moral stance. This moral ambiguity is where Heretic really stands out from the elevated horror pack.
Sister Barnes, as the more devout and outspoken of the pair, embodies a form of faith that is both unyielding and, at times, unthinking — a devotion that Reed eagerly dismantles. Paxton, on the other hand, is portrayed as less steadfast, embodying a quieter scepticism that, while initially seeming weaker, becomes a form of resilience as the plot thickens. This dynamic allows the film to ask probing questions about the durability of faith and the perils of unwavering conviction.
However, elements of Heretic’s third act-like religious doctrine fall apart under scrutiny. The movie’s sharp, deliberate pacing begins to buckle under the weight of increasingly convoluted plot twists. While Beck and Woods set up a nuanced cat-and-mouse game in the first two-thirds, the final stretch introduces elements that risk detracting from the carefully built tension. Instead of relying on the dialogue-heavy introspection that made the film compelling, the plot shifts into more overt horror tropes, which may feel jarring for viewers invested in the film’s restrained suspense. Heretic doesn’t need these embellishments to make its point — its strength lies in its quiet dread and intellectual provocations.
Heretic dares to explore the nature of belief in such a provocative manner. This isn’t a film designed to comfort or even to satisfy traditional horror enthusiasts looking for clear resolutions. Instead, it is an intellectual horror film — one that thrives on ambiguity and leaves its audience unsettled by its refusal to resolve the ethical and existential questions it raises.
The film’s reluctance to provide easy answers can be frustrating, but that frustration is part of its thematic intent, challenging audiences to reflect on their own convictions.
In the end, Heretic emerges as a challenging, if imperfect, contribution to psychological horror. The triumvirate of magnificent leads don’t merely ask questions about faith but interrogate the structures and power dynamics inherent in any system of belief. The film’s impact is less in its visceral thrills and more in its capacity to disturb our intellectual and spiritual certainties, making it a memorable, if unsettling, entry in contemporary horror cinema.