Almost Holy
Hugh Grant steals the half of the show that truly counts.
Heretic
Directors: Scott Beck, Bryan Woods • Writers: Scott Beck, Bryan Woods
Starring: Hugh Grant, Sophie Thatcher, Chloe East
USA • 1hr 51mins
Opens Hong Kong Mar 6 • IIB
Grade: B-
Is this wish fulfilment? Because really, who hasn’t wanted to shut up the Mormons that land on your doorstep with a righteous history lesson capped off with a mic drop? Has anyone actually let these people in their home? A spot of foul language and slamming the door makes the point, unless you’re like the non-threatening Mr Reed (Hugh Grant) in writing-directing duo Scott Beck and Bryan Woods’s Heretic, the latest in A24’s defining stream of highbrow B horror flicks. That’s not shade; I love a good B horror flick, but let’s be honest. Their horror stuff is automatically considered “smarter” by virtue of the non-horror company they keep. If your stablemates are Sean Baker (Anora), Luca Guadagnino (Queer), Steve McQueen (Occupied City) and Jonathan Glazer (The Zone of Interest) you’ll seem pretty smart. A24’s done well for itself by (mostly) steering clear of the studios, the streamers and second screen filmmaking and let filmmaker do whatever the hell they wanted to. How long that will last now that the mini-major has stated it wants to get more commercial is anyone’s guess, but for now, we still have the likes of Heretic, and its superior B chills thanks to A24’s brand attracting the likes of Grant.
There’s no doubt Beck and Woods can find their way around high concept scares; they penned A Quiet Place and The Boogeyman, both great at what they do. However, they also did all the work on the unfortunate 65, so, you know, it’s a crapshoot. Heretic is solid Quiet Place stuff for its first half but ultimately dissolves into a puddle of rote drivel. But before that it’s great fun.
No, you can’t share the good word
Heretic almost plays like two short films rather than one long one. In the first, two Mormon missionaries, Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher, TV’s Yellowjackets, Companion) and the less assured Sister Paxton (Chloe East, The Fabelmans), knock on Mr Reed’s door, and he invites them in for a rousing and rambling discussion on the nature of faith and the Latter-day Saints. It doesn’t take long for Barnes and Paxton to realise Reed’s promised wife doesn’t exist and that they’re locked in the creepy house. After a lecture about the origins of organised religion and a command to either confirm their belief or deny it, Barnes and Paxton find themselves in the dungeon. Uh oh.
There are points in this part of Heretic that absolutely feel as if Beck and Woods fired up a fat blunt one night and started spitballing about the myriad contradictory messages spouted by the world’s various churches and their origin myths, and then immediately fired up the screenwriting app. Thatcher – who herself grew up in the Mormon church – is great in balancing Barnes’s curiosity and piety, and her increasing discomfort is nicely tamped down. She doesn’t want Reed knowing she’s scared shitless. But the debate, as ridiculous as it is, and the stage is Grant’s, as the cranky old boy turns in another in a recent string of gloriously crotchety performances: Paddington 2, The Gentlemen, Wonka, Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy. Put very simply Heretic falls apart without Grant’s perfectly pitched, holier-than-thou menace.
Which is exactly what happens in that back half. Heretic heads down a Barbarian road before doubling back on itself and muddying the narrative waters, which are already pretty muddy, with questions, secrets and lies that never amount to anything. Where the first half was a psychological thriller that raised some interesting (if slightly facile) points about why we believe in a god – or don’t – the second half is painfully conventional as well as being overly familiar. I swear, one more decrepit, straggly-haired nekkid lady and I’m punching something. There’s a murder dungeon FFS. Still, Grant’s performance is one for the ages, a self-conscious riff on his Charming Englishman persona, leveraged for maximum dementedness. He’s such a delight it’s easy to forgive Beck and Woods their follies.