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Warning: Full spoilers for the film follow.

I think it’s safe to say that horror is having a bit of a moment. Of course, horror is one of those genres that can always be counted on to be financially profitable, both because it often requires less money and because it’s so effective at tapping into the anxieties, fears, and desires of a particular cultural moment. I’ve loved almost every horror movie I’ve seen this year but, even in a year known for its strong offerings, Adrian Chiarella’s Leviticus is something special. I knew going in that it was going to be one of those films that got into my mind and under my skin. I’ve been on a long and winding journey back to Christianity over the past year or so, and so the issue of faith and queerness has been much on my mind. This film crawled into my mind and my soul, latched its hooks in me, and hasn’t let me go since.

The film begins with an amorous encounter between teens Naim (Joe Bird) and Ryan (Stacy Clausen), and at first it seems the two of them have found a connection they both clearly need. However, when Naim discovers Ryan kissing their pastor’s son, Hunter (Jeremy Blewitt) and tells the pastor what’s happened, things take a sinister turn. Ryan and Hunter undergo a terrifying encounter with a healer, who curses them to be haunted, tormented and, in Hunter’s case, killed by the thing they desire most. Unfortunately for Naim, his mother Arlena (Mia Wasikowska), soon hands him over to the healer, and it’s not long before he’s set on a terrifying course with his beloved Ryan.

Both Joe Bird and Stacy Clausen are phenomenal in this film, with each bringing something unique to the table. Bird perfectly captures Naim’s adolescent angst, as well as his sense of alienation and yearning for something more, some human connection that neither his mother nor their devout religious community can provide. He finds it unexpectedly in Clausen’s Ryan, and the two actors have palpable chemistry. And yet, all the while, Naim is also haunted by his resentment of Ryan and the fact that his own actions were what brought about their harrowing.

For his part, Clausen captures the nuances of a very complicated figure. Ryan is a rougher type than Naim, or at least it seems at first, but as the film goes on he shows a deep well of sensitivity and kindness. Like Naim, he yearns for queer connection. Clausen also superbly captures the menace and danger of Ryan’s doppelganger, even his silent movements conveying a sense of murderous menace. It’s not every actor who could play both characters with equal depth, but Clausen is more than up to the task, his wounded angelic beauty lending even his more terrifying moments an erotic charge.

Though there are moments of gore–including a disturbing moment in which we see Hunter’s head in a field–for the most part Leviticus relies on slowly spreading dread and suspense as the spectral Ryan torments and pursues Naim relentlessly any time he’s alone. Jed Kurzel’s score is also haunting and potent, with an ever-present thrumming that settles into your bones. Combined with the frequent shots of the heavily industrialized area in which these boys live–as well as the eerily intense church scenes–this score keeps us on the edge of our seats, waiting to see what new horror is going to unfold.

Indeed, there’s something particularly deeply unsettling about the premise of being tormented and, in Hunter’s case, literally killed by a demon that takes the form of your innermost desire. From a certain perverse Christian point of view this is exactly what queer desire itself is, so it makes sense that a “healer” like the one we see in this film–or, for that matter, Hunter’s family–would resort to such a desperate attempt to “save” these boys from themselves. The whole ordeal is made all the more upsetting because the being isn’t content to just torment you: as both Hunter’s death and that of the young woman who dies at the beginning of the film reveal, it wants you to suffer. Naim’s own encounter with the demon late in the film is especially disturbing, particularly once the creature tries to literally tear his throat out from the inside.

While the portions with the demon are obviously harrowing and heartbreaking, for me the most traumatic and insidious moment is the one in which Arlene admits she knew from the get-go that the “exorcism” would have terrible and lasting consequences, that Naim would have to live the rest of his life in fear. It’s a moment that’s stunning–devastating, really–for both Naim and those of us in the audience–because it reveals the extent to which Arlene’s own terror of the unknown has poisoned her relationship with her son. It’s also one of those moments that cuts to the bone precisely because it matches so neatly with so many lived experience; there are a distressing number of “Christian” parents who would rather see their children destroyed, both emotionally and physically, rather than have them be their true, God-given selves.

And yet, despite the terror and the horror and the betrayals, there are moments of genuine beauty and affection and erotic connection. The scene in which Ryan admits he wouldn’t want to be haunted by anyone other than Naim is genuinely affecting, and their shared erotic encounter on a bus is also beautifully staged. Somehow, these two young men manage to find an island of calm and love amid all the fear and dread and violence. To be sure, though, these moments are always tinged with terror. While I was watching the scene on the bus I still felt nervous, terrified lest they be discovered and unsettled by the fact that it was precisely this desire that was poised to seal both of their dooms. The film thus powerfully evokes the sinister effects of internalized homophobia, the way that a noxious religious ideology can crawl into your brain and make you fear yourself, your desires, your love, and the person who you feel the greatest connection to. In some terrible ways, the film suggests that the most damaging aspect of this haunting isn’t the violence itself; it’s the sundering of the self.

It would’ve been easy–and, for some no doubt, very satisfying–for the film to conclude with Naim and Ryan defeating their demonic tormentor and riding off into the sunset to have a happy gay life in the big city. However, Leviticus is a far cannier and subtler film than that, and it is smart enough to realize that such an ending would feel cheap and unearned and, more to the point, that it would rob the film of its essential power. By leaving the ending tinged with melancholy and ambiguity, the film suggests that our heroes will be haunted by their ordeal and that there is no easy happy ending in a world in which such homophobia is still very real and very present. (As a brief side note, it’s very satisfying to see Arlene frantically searching for Naim after he abandons her. One can but hope that the rest of her life is spent in misery as she reckons with her loneliness and her complicity in her son’s torment).

However, there is still hope in the conclusion, and it’s fitting that the last we see of Naim and Ryan is the two of them with their heads together, sharing a set of headphones. Queer life is difficult, sometimes, and there is always another hill to climb, another battle to be won. We’re led to hope, though, that these two troubled young men will manage to find their own form of peace and love and happiness, both with one another and with the queer community they’ll one day find.

The King of Horror has given his stamp of approval to Obsession, this year’s breakout hit horror movie.

Stephen King, the prolific author of best-selling horror novels including It, Carrie and The Shining, applauded the May release Tuesday in a two-line review on Threads.

“I gave OBSESSION a B+ in my movie book, but I keep thinking about it,” King, 78, wrote of YouTuber Curry Barker’s directorial feature film debut. “That weird mixture of humor and horror.”

Obsession — which follows the dangerous consequences of a hopeless romantic’s (Michael Johnston) naive wish for his crush (Inde Navarrette) to love him back — has been a massive box-office success, grossing over $297 milion worldwide off a micro-budget of approximately $750,000 to $1 million.

It has earned major plaudits from critics and a 94 percent score on the popular review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes.

In her four-star review, The Independent’s Clarrisse Loughrey labeled Obsession “one of the creepiest horror movies of 2026.”

The new sensation marks 26-year-old Barker’s first feature film. He previously directed the 2024 found-footage, prank-themed horror Milk & Serial, which he shot for $800 and uploaded directly to YouTube.

Obsession’s theatrical release coincided with that of fellow YouTuber Cane Parson’s directorial debut, Backrooms, a horror film adapted from his popular YouTube series about liminal spaces. The movie has similarly taken the box office by storm.

The success of both projects signals a fresh direction for the genre, leading Loughrey to declare that “the future of horror is on YouTube.”

“Gone is any feeling of Gothic tenderness, of the misunderstood going bump in the night. Here, the generation exposed to what feels like only the very worst of the world has responded in kind, with horror in which punishment is swift, nasty, and arguably well deserved,” she added. “Obsession is delicately handled work, unafraid to find pockets of humor.”

Meanwhile, King, who often shares his opinion about TV and film online, recently directed his followers’ attention to Apple TV+’s new dark comedy, Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed.

Starring Tatiana Maslany as Paula, a newly divorced mom who becomes convinced she witnessed a crime, the show centers on her spiral into a rabbit hole of blackmail, murder and youth soccer.

Comparing it to the streamer’s Matthew Rhys-led comedy horror series Widow’s Bay, King argued that it was “even better.”

“It’s like Hitchcock came back to do it one more time,” The Long Walk author said on X. “And Tatiana Maslany is so good. The play of emotions on her face is pretty incredible. She goes from comic to terror in an instant.”

Last September, he also revealed his list of 10 favorite films of all time, which consisted of Sorcerer (1977), Godfather 2 (1974), The Getaway (1972), Groundhog Day (1993), Casablanca (1942), The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948), Jaws (1975), Mean Streets (1973), Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) and Double Indemnity (1944).

Instead of the usual phalanx of cars and buses, Saturday evening traffic on Wilshire Boulevard was replaced by massive balloons, mobile sculptures, gaggles of gallerists and an endless array of elaborate costumes.

The first-ever Los Angeles Art Parade, a collaboration between the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) and famed gallerist Jeffrey Deitch, transformed the stretch of Wilshire known as Museum Row into a human-powered exhibition of the city’s dynamic art scene.

About 146 groups, made up of more than 1,400 participants, marched in the parade, with projects ranging from larger-than-life marionette dolls to squads of children in do-it-yourself costumes to mobile re-creations of LACMA’s most iconic art pieces.

The parade followed an all-day block party thrown by LACMA as part of its Grand Opening Weekend, celebrating the new David Geffen Galleries and the completion of the 20-year-long, $724-million campus construction project. Together, the block party and art parade attracted an estimated 60,000 attendees, who swarmed the galleries, danced to explosive DJ sets, and lined the streets to watch the eclectic procession of artists.

According to LACMA Director and Chief Executive Michael Govan, the event was a long time coming and “just the beginning” of how his team plans to use the campus space, which he previously called the city’s “living room.”

“We’re not gonna close Wilshire every weekend, but it’s an example of what we can do,” Govan said. “It’s really exciting to see the building work.”

Following a crowd-drawing DJ set from electronic low-fi hip-hop artist Flying Lotus, Govan introduced L.A. County District 2 Supervisor Holly J. Mitchell. She said the event made her “proud to represent LACMA” and to be a Metro board member, referencing the recently-opened Metro D-line extension, which dropped attendees off a quick stroll from LACMA’s entrance.

“Just seeing you all at this amazing public facility does my heart good,” she said. “This is your local government at work.”

As the party raged on LACMA’s campus, hundreds of parade participants hurriedly prepared for their debuts in the corners of nearby streets and parking lots. One group inflated a giant disco ball, while another smeared themselves with body paint next to a line of rehearsing dancers. Elsewhere, a megaphone-wielding leader herded dozens of black cats in the style of artist Gary Baseman into some semblance of order.

Deitch originally staged the first Art Parades in New York City’s SoHo neighborhood between 2005 and 2008. While those took a more art-world-exclusive approach, Deitch said the Los Angeles version was designed with inclusion in mind. The call for parade proposals was open to “emerging and established artists and creatives of all ages and backgrounds,” according to guidelines, as long as the work was appropriate for all ages and didn’t require a motorized element.

“The New York one was much more oriented toward people in the art community. We didn’t put out this kind of open call,” Deitch explained. “This is very different in its openness and its diversity. There are some famous artists and famous choreographers, L.A. legends. But there are also mothers from the San Fernando Valley with their children. I really love that.”

Artist Jordan Rountree’s rolling woodcut-sculpture called the Devil Jack in a Box with Crocodile appeared in Saturday’s Block Party and Art Parade hosted by the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s (LACMA).

(Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

“It’s just a very open platform, so you don’t have to have an M.F.A. to express yourself as an artist,” he added.

The procession was dizzying in its variety and scale. While many projects leaned into beauty and whimsy, others took a more overtly political approach, displaying anti-ICE messages on T-shirts and signs, sporting trans pride flags, or, in the case of performance artist Amy Kaps, wearing an unraveling U.S. constitution.

Some even referenced local causes, such as the “Boo Boo Bandage Brigade for Safe Streets,” which advocated for fixing sidewalks and increasing accessibility downtown. One particularly moving display by the Pali-Altadena Collective featured participants carrying miniature models of buildings and landmarks lost in the 2025 fires.

Chicana artist Nao Bustamante and Track 16 Gallery brought “Brown Disco” to the streets, which featured a giant gold disco ball and figures from decades of L.A. queer nightlife.

The crowd at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) Art Parade.

(Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

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“As a brown, queer person, I think that this really brought a light into our community, and now its presence [creates] an intergenerational conversation,” said Track 16 Assistant Director Steve Galindo. “The nightlife scene is how we come out as queer people, so it’s really special to be in the parade.”

For Joie Mitchell, volunteer coordinator for the Bob Baker Marionette Theater, which recently purchased its permanent Highland Park home, the parade was an opportunity to “show up for L.A. and be involved in the art history of this city.”

“Puppetry has been part of the arts for so many years,” added Daisy Hernandez, the theater’s production manager. “It’s a way that people express themselves, just like every other art form. So that’s what we’re here to do: express ourselves through puppetry.”