‘Heretic’ Review: Knockin' On Hell's Door
Two teenage girls are sitting on a bench discussing condoms. One of them has heard a story about Magnum, whose offerings are apparently bigger than rival products. They have a recognisable, giggly patter: one of them very innocent, the other a touch more worldly. It’s typical teenager chat, though these girls are Mormon missionaries taking a break during a day of home visits, which makes the conversation a little more salacious. It’s clearly intended to shock, but the scene merely patronises its lead characters, playing their naïveté for a joke (and not a very good one at that). Could this just be an outrageous opening scene? Sure, but unfortunately it sets the tone for this mean-spirited horror-thriller, from writer-directer duo Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, which squanders the talent of its young stars and commits the unforgivable sin of wasting a great Hugh Grant performance.
The girls are having a bad day, which goes even more south when one of them is pantsed by a group of teenagers. But there’s one more stop on their list. It’s a secluded house up a hill (bad sign). When they knock, a gentle-seeming older man (another one) opens the door and asks them in (red alert!). There’s a storm outside, and inside smells like blueberry pie. What could possibly go wrong? There’s no phone signal inside this house and an extremely bad vibes from the man, whose name is Mr Reed (played by Grant). He immediately starts schooling them about religion in only the way an older person with too much time can. The girls appear uncertain and then self-righteous and when they try to leave, the door is locked.
In a film this predictable, the only shock is how long the set-up takes. Eventually Reed offers them two choices to leave: either through a door on which he has written “Belief” or one on which he has written “Disbelief”. Choose the right one, and they can skip into the sunset. Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) is the bad cop: she’s spiky, speaks up for herself, and has a mysterious past (though this backstory heads absolutely nowhere). Sister Paxton (Chloe East, excellent) is the sweet cop: she ingratiates herself to Reed, praising his knowledge of multiple religions, and plays off the awkward moments with jokes. Grant is clearly enjoying himself as Reed. The English actor has toyed with playing the bad guy over the last few years, most famously as the bear-hunting luvvie actor Phoenix Buchanan in Paddington 2 but also in the television thriller The Undoing (opposite another Paddington alum, Nicole Kidman). There’s a touch of his former on-screen lotharios in this role too.
The movie, a little like Reed, is awfully pleased with itself. At one point, Reed gives a presentation about the evolution of various religions by likening it to different versions of the board game Monopoly. Most belief systems, Reed points out, are simply iterations of one another. He makes a similar point by playing songs to the girls: doesn’t The Hollies’s “The Air That I Breathe” sound like Radiohead’s “Creep” which sounds like Lana Del Rey’s “Get Free”? Maybe these analogies will work for you, but I felt like I was stuck in a conversation during Freshers Week with a stoned Philosophy student. If I were feeling generous, I’d say it’s to show how smug and righteous a character like Reed can be, but the writing is so shallow elsewhere, I’d be guilty of blind faith.
To give Beck and Woods their credit, the film is not without flair: inventive camera shots take us around the house, which is suitably spooky. I am not averse to a horror this talky, which swaps jump-scares for debate. And there is an interesting angle here: a horror which relies on tension between those who believe and those who don’t, and forces both sides to question their perspectives. But the game never feels truly balanced. And once Reed’s horrible truth is revealed, and it really is horrible, there’s no surprise or revelation or satisfactory twist. It is just gruesome.
The best – only? – joke is a visual gag in Reed’s sitting room, which is a framed picture of the younger Grant. He’s lolling on a sofa with a German Shepherd. It’s pure, floppy-haired heartthrob. The girls spot it as they enter, and you understand the charm, no longer the mumbling Notting Hill bookseller but one of our best actors-of-a-certain-age who is leaning into his late-career wackiness. Grant is great, but the film is a drag. We will always have Paddington 2.
‘Heretic’ is in cinemas from 1 November
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