FILM REVIEW: Heretic - Hugh Grant superb in devilishly dark, claustrophobic thriller

The autumn brilliance of Hugh Grant’s career is that he is definitely becoming a vastly more interesting actor with every new film.

He was terrific as the preening comedy villain in Paddington 2; he was cracking as a sulky, surly Oompa-Loompa in Wonka; now in Heretic he goes full-on horror, turning in a superb performance as not so much the devil himself as the devil’s advocate (well, initially at least), an evil creature who masks his evil behind the kind of cheery, welcoming, smiley affableness with which Grant made his name in his celebrated romcoms all those years ago.

Grant’s Mr Reed, in his eerie, isolated house amid a worsening storm, couldn’t possibly be more friendly when, at his request, the local Mormons send round two missionaries to debate it all with him. And at first he turns the tables in a way which a lot of us might secretly applaud. After all, isn’t there a certain arrogance in turning up on someone’s doorstep with the express aim of telling them what to believe?

However, Reed rapidly takes it far too far. Hideously far, in fact. The door which shuts behind them is on a deadlock, and it’s not long before the penny drops: they are actually trapped, forced to answer back as he challenges every aspect of their beliefs. The film is dense and certainly wordy but also deeply absorbing as Reed takes down their faith, likening all religions to each other and explaining them away as successive plagiarisations in the manner of games makers ripping off each other’s games or song-writers copying, maybe unconsciously, each other’s songs.

Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) and Sister Paxton (Chloe East) are the missionaries – and Thatcher and East are excellent in conveying their growing sense of entrapment amid their mumbled attempts at finding a way out. Their horror mounts as Reed runs through the essence of faith, theirs in particular. He’d promised them his wife was nearby baking a blueberry pie. Her non-appearance increasingly spooks them. Reed’s response is to liken their willingness to believe in his wife to their willingness to believe in their God. Then trashing it all, he riffs on the age-old conundrum of two doors, challenging them to choose one – and then complicating it all by labelling one “belief” and the other “disbelief”. Which will they choose now?

And this is where the film is at its ghastly best, an intellectual bout of cat and mouse, verbose for sure, but clever in just the right proportions – proportions, however, which are perhaps lost in the final third. Towards the end, the film becomes either rather lame or just possibly far too clever for its own good. Presumably you can make of the ending whatever you want to. Or maybe, the ending is whatever you want to believe it to be. Or perhaps more likely, the film’s initial premise is just so intriguing that the only way out is almost bound to be a little disappointing. But for the most part, this is dark, dense and deeply provocative film-making, built on fine performances from all concerned.