Written and directed by Scott Beck & Bryan Woods

Developed by A24

“Religion is something that should not be discussed,” my dad used to say. Oh, what a wise gentleman. But if there’s one thing I can’t resist, it’s a film that dares to do just that.

Horror has never really been my genre—especially not the possession type (I run from those). But against my father’s will, if I can put it that way, I’m always drawn to stories that challenge religion and belief in fresh, thought-provoking ways. And Heretic? This one does it wisely.

The title itself is more than just provocative—it’s a perfect distillation of the film’s themes. A heretic isn’t simply someone who rejects religious orthodoxy; they are a disruptor, a questioner, a seeker of truth in places others fear to look. That concept lies at the very heart of this film, which doesn’t just explore faith but interrogates it, turns it inside out, and leaves it trembling in the dark. It isn’t about religious dogma alone—it’s about the very nature of belief itself.

And that’s what makes it terrifying.

Instead of relying on the usual horror tropes—demons, exorcisms, the ever-familiar battle between good and evil—Heretic plays a different kind of game. It doesn’t ask what you believe; it asks why you believe it. Who taught it to you? How much of it is truly yours, and how much is inherited, absorbed, unquestioned? This is what elevates the film beyond standard horror fare. It’s less about the fear of the unknown and more about the unease of knowing too much.

At its core, Heretic distills thousands of years of repeated narratives—stories reshaped into different religions, mythologies, and belief systems that have dictated the course of human history. But here, those stories don’t remain safely in books or sermons. They bleed into the real world, looping back on themselves, trapping both characters and audience in their cyclical grasp. This isn’t just horror for the sake of horror—it’s horror as reflection. Horror as reckoning.

Symbolism and metaphor pulse through the film like a heartbeat. Without giving too much away, the use of games, music, and repetition as thematic symbols deepens its exploration of faith and control. Songs by artists like Radiohead and Lana Del Rey aren’t just atmospheric choices; they act as narrative tools, reinforcing the film’s meditation on belief, identity, and the illusions we cling to.

Visually, Heretic is stunning, with cinematography that feels both intimate and oppressive, mirroring the film’s psychological tension. The performances are gripping, raw, and layered with quiet desperation. But for all its brilliance, Heretic does stumble slightly in its final act. Like many films that wrestle with the ambiguities of faith, it finds itself in the delicate balance between mystery and resolution. And while not all questions need answers, there are moments where the film’s grip on its own themes loosens just enough to be felt.

Still, what lingers isn’t just the imagery or even the fear—it’s the ideas. Heretic doesn’t simply aim to unsettle; it wants you to think, to question, to sit with your discomfort long after the credits roll.

A24 has built a reputation for horror that transcends the genre, and Heretic is a worthy addition. It’s a film about belief, doubt, and the stories we inherit—and the ones we create to survive.

Because, really, what’s scarier? The idea that a higher power controls our every move?

Or the possibility that there’s nothing there at all?

If you love horror that doesn’t just scare you but challenges you, Heretic should be on your radar. It doesn’t feel like an attack on religion but rather a deep, unsettling dive into the nature of belief itself. And whether you walk away shaken, enlightened, or both—that’s entirely up to you.

Image courtesy of A24