Spoiler note: This post discusses some plot elements and major scenes from Heretic (2024). I tried to avoid key plot details, but this is hard to do in a film/character analysis.
If you are not an avowed horror fan, like I am, you probably missed the 2024 horror-thriller film Heretic. However, if you are interested in religious deconstruction, the theology of Heretic is something you cannot afford to ignore. If you want to see Hugh Grant, the charming rom-com guy, take a sadistic, villainous turn, look no further than this film.
His performance is disquieting—much like I argued regarding Tim Curry’s portrayal of Pennywise in the 1990 IT miniseries—precisely because of his trademark charm. Of course, I learned quite recently that Grant’s “Mr. Nice Guy” persona may in fact be nothing more than a well-crafted fiction. In Heretic, this fiction is weaponized.
I am going to take a different approach to the theology of Heretic in this analysis. Instead of interpreting Mr. Reed as a slasher with a special taste for missionaries or some kind of Theological Predator, I will argue that he is a case of deconstruction gone wrong. In biblical terms, this becomes a tragic typology of Ecclesiastes 1:18, and a tale of caution for those who seek such answers:
“For in much wisdom is much vexation,
and those who increase knowledge increase sorrow.” ~ Ecc. 1:18, NRSVue
Introduction
I was cautious to watch Heretic. I chose ignorance; it has a religious title, therefore it must be like all other religious horror movies. My assumption was that it surely featured the inescapable trope of a badass, unorthodox Catholic priest with a penchant for performing exorcisms. I cannot tolerate these cliché horror films, and though I have a deep fascination with theology, I equate such films with PureFlix. So, I avoided Heretic.
I was working at a residential behavioral health facility around the time the film was released. Several weeks later, one of my coworkers staged the greatest scheme to force me to watch this movie—a movie night with the clients.
The moment Mr. Reed and the Sisters began their deep dialogue, I was hooked. The theology of Heretic presents a unique kind of horror villain: a human whose deadliest weapon is religious history. Of course, I was compared to Mr. Reed quite a bit by that group of clients… but I embrace that.
The Wounded Skeptic
Mr. Reed, unlike seemingly 90% of horror villains, was not born a monster. He is not possessed, he is not himself a demon, and he has zero supernatural abilities. He is a villain with whom the audience can relate. His quest for knowledge becomes his villain arc.
I can relate to Mr. Reed on quite a few levels. Unlike him, I was raised deeply religious. But like him, my “villain arc” stems from theological disillusionment. We both questioned God and the boundaries of such knowledge. In our studies of theology, we found too much that we could not reconcile.
- For him: The relationship between religion and control.
- For me: The relationship between God and human suffering.
Our questions differed but our conclusions largely matched. Religion’s control has long impacted human life, often in dangerous ways. Mr. Reed’s madness comes from this same need for control. Because he cannot find God, he decides to build a maze where he plays God.
So, Mr. Reed deconstructed… but in doing so, he dug his way to hell. Or perhaps, he flew too high.
The Icarus Complex
Consider the Greek mythological tale of Icarus. Icarus and his father, Daedalus, attempted to escape imprisonment by using wings fashioned with fragile feathers and beeswax. Daedalus warns Icarus not to fly too high (the wings will melt) or too low (the wings will dampen). However, exhilarated by flight, Icarus ignores his father’s warning and flies too close to the sun. The wings melt and he plunges into the sea.
Such is the case for Mr. Reed. He flew too close to the sun, the one he and I both operate under: the knowledge of the divine. It’s all about balance, something our troubled antagonist seems to forget.
A Decimated Theology
For a lengthy portion of the film, Mr. Reed shares his theology with his two captives. I have recommended this film to people with no interest in religion, and they absolutely hated it. But I was definitely captivated by the innovative way theology is used in this film; however, I must admit that the theology of Heretic is not structurally sound.
While Mr. Reed provides a phenomenal framework for understanding the “iterations” of religion and religious texts (I will never look at Monopoly the same again!), his knowledge of the individual religions—and theological practices as a whole—is quite shaky. The big one, for me, is the “copycat” argument.
At one point, Mr. Reed points the two sisters to a gallery of portraits of ancient deities. He highlights the similarities between Jesus in the Gospels and other mythological deities such as Mithras and Horus. He of course claims that the Christian narrative was constructed (or stole from) such theologies. Parallels can be suggestive, but they don’t prove copying… not unless you can show historical proximity and a plausible mechanism of transmission.
There are numerous errors in such alleged “takedowns.”
- The Methodological Error: This is called Parallelomania, a term popularized by Jewish scholar Samuel Sandmel. He defines it as “that extravagance among scholars which first overdoes the supposed similarity in passages and then proceeds to describe source and derivation as if implying literary connection flowing in an inevitable or predetermined direction.”
- The Historical Error: There is a massive issue of anachronism. For instance, much of Mithras’ iconography dates to the 2nd century CE or later—after the New Testament.
Suggesting that the biblical writers “copied” pagan myths is fringe pseudoscience. Did they draw some inspiration from them? Perhaps, but this issue is much easier to sensationalize than it is to rationalize. One of the sisters aptly dismantles his argument shortly thereafter, with perhaps my favorite line in the film: “One of these guys has a freaking BIRD HEAD!”
Conclusion: A Tragic Experiment
Mr. Reed is indeed a tragic character. He claims he wants to witness a true miracle—to find the “one true note” in the noise of religion. But I question the honesty of his quest. As one who lost his faith in the rubble of deconstruction, I can understand and relate to Mr. Reed’s cynicism. However, I cannot understand his pride.
The study of theology is a dangerously humbling experience. It requires that you question everything, especially yourself. But Mr. Reed is a deconstructionist who gave up after ripping out the dry wall.
While he walked away with the knowledge that religion is about control, he left untouched the dangerous structures of the ego and ill-intentions. Whatever wounds he carries, he leaves them unhealed. And so he becomes an isolated theological predator who traps women and lectures them on religion before forcing them to make him their god—or die.
In the end, Mr. Reed’s tragedy is that he thought theology was a puzzle to be solved, rather than a mystery to be encountered. He missed the point entirely.