Heretic

Watching Heretic is like stepping into a psychological maze built from faith, fear, and manipulation. Directors Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, known for co-writing A Quiet Place, craft a chamber piece disguised as a horror film: three main characters, one isolated house, a storm outside, and a slow-burning theological interrogation inside. The atmosphere is intensely theatrical in the best way possible. Every detail — from the lighting to the close-ups and tight lenses — echoes the intimacy of a stage play. The film evokes Ari Aster’s measured dread, but with less flair and more restraint, at least during its first two acts.

Hugh Grant, in perhaps his most surprising performance to date, plays Mr. Reed, a figure as charming as he is sinister. Gone is the floppy-haired romantic lead — here he’s cerebral, sardonic, and subtly terrifying. His monologues on religion are not sermons but carefully constructed verbal traps. In one standout moment, he compares major world religions to monopolized board games, provoking laughter, discomfort, and philosophical unease in equal measure. The tension in these dialogues — the pauses, the quiet chuckles, the microexpressions — becomes the film’s heartbeat. It’s a chilling performance, somewhere between Hannibal Lecter’s charm and Michael Haneke’s cold detachment.

The two young Mormon missionaries, played with precision and nuance by Sophie Thatcher and Chloe East, stand as fascinating opposites. Thatcher’s Sister Barnes exudes fervor and resolve, while East’s Sister Paxton reveals layers of internal conflict and doubt. Their dynamic becomes the moral battleground of the story. The camera lingers on their expressions, pushing us into their psychological space as they wrestle with the boundaries of faith and reason.

The third act, however, veers into more familiar horror territory. It abandons the slow, thoughtful dread for blood and symbolism — a shift that feels abrupt and, frankly, less compelling. The butterfly motif, introduced earlier with quiet elegance, transforms into an overly literal metaphor. What was once haunting becomes heavy-handed, and the final sequence, though visually striking, undercuts the intellectual tension so carefully built throughout.

Still, there’s much to admire. The cinematography by Chung Chung-hoon is strikingly claustrophobic, making every hallway feel like a prison and every window a false hope. The sound design is equally effective — minimalistic but suggestive, amplifying every creak and breath. And while the script stumbles in its final stretch, it’s refreshingly ambitious. The film dares to engage with big ideas — about belief, dogma, free will — without reducing them to sermon or spectacle.

Beck and Woods redeem themselves after the lackluster 65 with a story that’s tighter, darker, and far more personal. Heretic feels like a thematic cousin to Funny Games and Hereditary, but where those films drown in despair, this one leaves us dangling in ambiguity. It doesn’t offer answers — it offers disquiet.

For me, Heretic succeeds not as a horror film in the traditional sense, but as a philosophical thriller disguised in horror aesthetics. It’s not here to scare you with monsters or loud noises. It wants to infect your thoughts, to make you question the convictions you hold dear. It’s a film that talks to you long after it ends — and not always in a reassuring voice.



Heretic (2025 / United States)
Director: Scott Beck, Bryan Woods
Writer: Scott Beck, Bryan Woods
Cast: Hugh Grant, Sophie Thatcher, Chloe East
Runtime: 111 minutes