Barren landscapes in shades of dusty green and faded blue. Power lines and encroaching factories invading the skyline. Silver snake rings adorning longing hands. Two boys wandering amongst it all, yearning for freedom, connection, and each other. These are just some of the images of Leviticus.
Directed by Adrian Chiarella, the Australian queer horror film has resonated with audiences through its blend of horror, coming-of-age drama, and tender romance. While much of the conversation has centered on its emotional story and breakout performances, the film’s visual language is equally vital to its impact.
A key architect of that visual identity is costume designer Zohie Castellano. Working closely with Chiarella and the wider creative team, Castellano helped shape the film’s “Australian gothic” aesthetic through muted colors, recurring motifs, and symbolic costume choices. For Castellano, every visual decision began with the story’s emotional core.
“There is this deep yearning and longing in the story,” She says. “It felt important to have a restrained color palette to support those feelings.”
Yearning is a quintessential part of Ryan (Stacy Clausen) and Naim’s (Joe Bird) relationship, both yearning for each other and for an escape. Castellano’s costumes translate that emotional thread into the film’s visual tapestry. She approached the boys almost as reflections of one another, using color, layering, and silhouette to chart their emotional journeys.
Ryan’s wardrobe exposes more skin and radiates confidence, while Naim begins the film hidden beneath layers. Even the colors were chosen with intention. Castellano drew inspiration from the actors’ eye colors — Ryan’s blues and Naim’s hazel greens — to subtly enhance the intimacy of their shared looks.
As Ryan and Naim’s relationship begins to evolve, so do their wardrobes.
“I was very interested in how the boys reflect each other,” Castellano says. “The film wrestles with light and dark, self and shadow self.”
One of the film’s more beloved visual details emerged from that philosophy. During the hospital sequence, Ryan and Naim wear complementary jackets that mirror one another in color and design. Fans have drawn comparisons to Brokeback Mountain (2005), particularly the rugged masculinity embodied by Heath Ledger‘s Ennis Del Mar.
The comparison is no accident.
“Heath was definitely in there,” Castellano laughs, “I had him in all of my references for Ryan’s character.”
Another costuming piece that fans have been drawn to is Ryan and Naim’s snake ring. Although not depicted in the film, Castellano, Bird, and Clausen crafted a narrative that the ring changes hands midway through the film to depict the two teaming up together. Castellano describes it almost as a promise ring between the two boys, though she intentionally left the snake’s visual meaning open to interpretation.
“A snake is one of the most classic metaphors there is,” she says. “It can be evolution, shedding a skin, spiritual awakening, the Garden of Eden. There are so many ways to look at it.”
Alongside the snake, spiders, frogs, and birds all served as foundational visual references for her costuming, using them as what she called “script images.” Church members wear garments featuring subtle snake patterns. Lace resembles spider webs. The deliverance healer’s improperly pressed suit reflects light with a frog-skin-like sheen.
Each decision speaks to Castellano’s broader philosophy about costume design. Rather than announcing meaning, costumes work subconsciously, planting emotional and thematic ideas beneath the surface.”
“It’s like working with subliminal narrative,” she explains. “People are reading it through their subconscious.”
The result is a film whose visual storytelling feels remarkably rich despite its simplicity. Every bird, every color choice, every thread contributes to a larger emotional tapestry. Yet none of it calls attention to itself. Instead, it deepens the experience, allowing viewers to discover new layers with each revisit and quietly reinforces the emotional and philosophical questions at the heart of the story.
Beneath its gothic imagery lies a meditation on faith, judgment, and self-acceptance. Castellano believes the film’s engagement with spirituality was never about condemning belief itself, but examining the systems that can separate people from their authentic selves.
“I think everyone has their own relationship with the divine,” she says. “Whatever your orientation is or whatever your background is, everyone should be empowered to make their own choices as a sovereign being.”
That sentiment is woven throughout Leviticus, most notably in its ending. The film ultimately chooses compassion, asking its characters to embrace love over fear and authenticity over judgment.
In some ways, Leviticus feels divine in its own right. Not because it provides certainty or solutions, but because it reminds the audience of our own sovereignty, that there is still time to choose yourself, to embrace what you desire, and to imagine a future larger than the one fear has prescribed for you. Just like Naim and Ryan do.
You can read our abridged discussion with Castellano below:
How did you get involved with Leviticus originally, and what were some of those conversations with Adrian early on about setting the visual language for the film?
I worked with Causeway (the production company) previously. So I was familiar with the producers, and then they reached out asking if I wanted to interview for Leviticus. I think Adrian and I were on the same page with how to approach it from the beginning– this kind of Australian gothic vibe.
It can sometimes feel, in Australia, like there’s this outsider thing imposed on the country. There’s something a little disjointed about it, and that’s a vibe we wanted to explore. It’s this sense of something that doesn’t necessarily belong on the land, so the rigid, dogmatic rules feel particularly jarring.
How did you work with other departments on the film to create an overall color palette?
We all got together at the beginning of pre-production– costume, production design, cinematography, makeup, locations, and Adrian. We sat and looked at reference images together for what we were trying to evoke. It’s always important to look at the story and what we’re trying to say, and because there is this deep yearning and longing in the story, it felt important to have a restrained color palette to support those feelings.
For example, the use of pink is important in the film. There are pink blinds in the church that cast this pink hue over the congregation that is also wearing and surrounded by this very restrained color palette. It– alongside the neutrals– creates this suffocating and fleshiness feel to the film.
The color palette with the costumes created this sort of melting into the environment look, which also supports the hallucination aspect of the monsters materializing out of the environment.
It was a real pleasure to see, as we were filming, how cohesive the images were coming together. It feels quite stylized, but obviously we want it to be grounded in naturalism as well. And it’s lovely to see on social media audiences reacting to those intentions that we put in early on.
One of my favorite outfits is Ryan’s blue tank top in the first scene. Talk me through the choice to have him wear that.
Because of this longing and eye contact that was often shared, I then looked to the boys’ eye color and informed the choices. Stacy has blue eyes, Joe has green-hazel eyes, and then that became both of their like colors to enhance their eye contact.
In the beginning scene, Ryan is more confident, and the season is transitioning into winter across the film, so it’s meant to show it is a bit warmer. We called that look of Ryan’s “the first desire” because it’s the first time that they connect intimately. The bird has the metaphorical significance of being caged and wanting to be free. There was a bird on the lighter at the end, so it was kind of tying into that as well. It showcased this idea of wrestling with freedom. Arlene has a bird-printed blouse in the dinner scene as well. It’s a storytelling technique of having images recur.
How was it important for you to kind of communicate the differences between Ryan and Naim, and how did you approach costuming these two characters?
I think with the characters I was working with, how they evolve. Naim is very hidden at the beginning, and Ryan’s confidence inspires him.
It was very much a dance with reflections– how the boys reflect each other and then this psychological aspect of the entity and what the entity’s wearing and why. I didn’t want to introduce too many garments, so it also could really feel like this seamless quality so you’re not sure if the monster’s the monster or if it’s Ryan.
Because the film wrestles with light and dark or self and shadow-self, it felt right to have Naim and Ryan in this light-dark reflection. Naim moves into darker clothes because he kind of is internalizing the monster in himself. But then Ryan’s in a paler look for the monster, and he looks almost ethereal, like an angel. And then Naim’s wrestling with that aspect of himself when they’re having their interactions, which also go into tenderness and then violence. I was just trying to use these reflections to enhance the story.
Fans really love Ryan’s jacket in the film. I’ve seen people compare it to Heath Ledger’s Ennis Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain. Is that an intentional reference?
Yes, it actually was. I had Heath in all of my references for Ryan’s character because of his essence and the way Heath carried his masculinity. So yeah, he was definitely in there. It’s nice to see people responding to it.
The film also has a snake motif throughout it. Ryan has a snake ring that transfers to Naim about halfway through the film, but it’s not something we really see. What was that conversation like with figuring out what this ring and the snake motif represent?
I love that because sometimes you do these things and you make these backstories and then you’re like, “Will anyone even notice that?”
I pulled out script images to inform the design of the church community overall. So it was the snake, the funnel web spider, the frog, and the bird. With those first three specifically, it’s got this predator demon quality to it. I was looking for textures, and that is what informed how we dressed the church community. For example, the deliverance healer is wearing a suit that’s pressed incorrectly, so it’s shiny like frog skin. We had snake prints in the church community. We worked with lace to represent a spider web, like Arlene wears when she’s making her confession.
That lace cover-up is an old Italian lace bedspread that I had brought in, and we made it into a blouse. We made it too big on purpose, as if Arlene hasn’t really self-actualized as a woman. She got pregnant young, and she is maybe just doing what she thinks she’s meant to do.
I worked in those script images, and that informed choices around costuming. The snake ring was one of those things. You can look at it in a multitude of ways metaphorically– such as
evolution and shedding a skin or spiritual awakening or the Garden of Eden. There are so many ways you look at it.
The actual exchange of the ring comes on the bus, which is also when they are in those complimentary jackets, and they’re kind of teaming up together. In a way, it’s a promise ring.
The snake ring clearly has significance to these characters even without it being a big moment or scene. It just adds to this world-building and helps to flesh out that these are real people.
That’s the thing with costumes. You’re working with a subliminal narrative. People are reading it through their subconscious. So, you are always playing it. If you made the ring exchange into a whole scene, it would ham it up, whereas it’s when these things happen incidentally that it really comes alive. Joe and Stacy are just such amazing actors, and we all were looking to bring that authentically to the film in the collaborative process.
I feel like I have to ask: since it’s in Leviticus, there is a verse that says you are not allowed to wear garments woven of two different kinds of material. Were you obeying scripture?
We weren’t following scripture.
This is just my personal interpretation of it, but Leviticus is essentially the law of the priests. I think a lot of religious institutions gatekeep spirituality through their priests. Rather than people being empowered in themselves and their authentic selves, there’s this separation that gets created.
I kind of took a lead from that — that’s why the church community is kind of looking more demonic than the actual monster in this film. It becomes more about the gatekeeping aspect. No shade to anyone’s spiritual path, whatever you choose, but I do think that kind of gatekeeping is kind of why we have all these problems.
I think of the term fear-based faith and the way institutions focus on hate instead of love. There are institutions that promote fear instead of promoting love and acceptance. I think that is why the end of the film is so beautiful. They are choosing not to live in fear. Fear is okay, but you have to keep going.
It is obviously a very deep topic to discuss, but I think everyone has their own relationship with the divine. I think whatever your orientation is or whatever your background is, everyone should be empowered to make their own choices as a sovereign being. Not doing things out of fear or for the wrong reasons or loneliness.
I think for the purpose of a film called Leviticus, I just took that lead of we’re dealing with people that are being closed off and ostracized from the community due to what? Judgement? So that was the approach I took.
Maybe I should have followed the scripture more, but I didn’t.
Leviticus is now playing in select theaters. You can read Kam’s essay on the film here.
Interview and Analysis Courtesy of Kam Ryan
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Feature Image Credit to NEON