Missionary work has always fascinated me. Not when it’s performed abroad as a means of indoctrinating people who might otherwise be unaware. I mean here, in America, where anyone fascinated with religion could simply walk up to a church, synagogue, or mosque and ask to learn. Yes, there’s a degree of marketing at play and companies have advertising budgets to spend in ways that also serve their flock by providing them a façade of purpose, but to have a door opened with a resident genuinely saying “you’ve converted me” is insane. It happens, though. People are impressionable. People are lonely.
That’s where Scott Beck and Bryan Woods leave us at the start of Heretic. With the question of which describes Mr. Reed (Hugh Grant) best. Because he did request information. The Church of Latter Day Saints wouldn’t have sent Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) and Sister Paxton (Chloe East) over if they didn’t believe he was ready and willing to at least consider baptism. We know differently, though. We know some people say “yes” to loaded pitches to be polite and extricate themselves from conversations they don’t want. Is that the case with Reed here? Could he be a true believer? Or perhaps he has an agenda of his own.
Do Barnes and Paxton consider that last option? Maybe the former does. She seems a bit more worldly, in the sense that the latter appears to be the definition of naïve. That doesn’t, however, mean she’ll enter into this sales call with cynicism. No, both of these women’s faith is unwavering. They wouldn’t dare disrespect their God by presuming He didn’t send them to this house for a reason. They will wear their smiles and deflect Reed’s obvious provocations because they have a duty to perform. It’s only when they unsuccessfully ask to see his wife multiple times and he leaves them alone long enough to really study the room they’re in that the fact they’ve become the mark is made clear.
Mr. Reed seeks to convert them. To Satanism? Atheism? Science? Maybe he just wants to toy with them by turning the tables on this dance––a sort of middle finger to the whole organized religion industry––or maybe he is lonely. Whatever his motivations, his plan to weaponize their piety in ways that force them to trap themselves in no-win situations of his making unfolds. At first his queries are philosophical in nature. Verbal cues and weighted decisions that have them questioning and / or confirming their beliefs. Then his requests become tangible. Sensorial. Barnes and Paxton must perform. Finally they become violent. Traumatic. How far will they let Reed take them? Do they have the power to stop him?
As a bona fide chamber piece focusing upon this trio for the duration (save a couple supporting players meant to inject potential answers and increase the already tense atmosphere of dread), Heretic is dialogue heavy due to the debate about God that commences. Don’t think the visuals will bore you, though––the setting of Reed’s house rapidly evolves into a puzzle box meticulously constructed to coax his guests out of their comfort zone. Timers and sounds and smells all work in concert to create a sense of unease that better allows Reed to surprise them with his ever-charming delivery and increasingly sinister intent. It’s not long before the only way out is to go further in: a true test of faith.
Their rapport is electric, Grant having the time of his life running circles around what he believes to be two young girls duped into becoming the lambs all religions need to populate their slaughter. The question is therefore whether Reed seeks to slaughter them himself––his forceful rhetoric and mischievous delight could feasibly be altruistic. Because pointedly singing Radiohead’s “Creep” by way of The Hollies’ “The Air That I Breathe,” labeling himself a creep and weirdo in the process, doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to save his guests from a lifetime of exploitation. Although that would be quite the twist, considering Heretic’s series of subversions and misdirections proves too dark to be only hiding an unsolicited education.
What Reed can’t yet know, though, is that Barnes and Paxton aren’t helpless. He can trap them in a corner with no exit besides the one he’s designated, but that doesn’t mean they will give up without a fight or compromise their identities to escape. If he wants their participation, he must deal with the reality that they’ll challenge each word he speaks. Because despite having a point about what religion’s true purpose is and how each iteration is a facsimile of the rest, a sound premise still demands concrete justification. Reed is too interested in the sound of his own voice to acknowledge his guests see through his bluster and reject his notion of authority.
It’s a helluva ride through the annals of religious history and the ways in which the concept of God has been bought and sold by charlatans and pop culture. Whenever Beck and Woods have you looking one way, they hit you over the head from the opposite direction––everywhere they take us is perfectly measured to usher in the next test of will. It’s thus a testament to the execution that we can remain on those carefully laid tracks and still feign surprise upon spinning to see the reverse perspective. Credit the strength of Grant’s performance too––a fork-tongued vaudeville act meant to distract us as much as his victims. Heretic might not be as smart as it thinks, but boy is it fun.
Heretic premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival and opens on November 15.
The post TIFF Review: Heretic is a Chamber Piece of Subversions Exploring the Concept of God first appeared on The Film Stage.
