ULF RECOMMENDS: HERETIC (2024)

Disclaimer: There is no way to handle this movie without mention of religion and the challenging of faith.

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You don’t just wake up and decide to disappear for 112 days.

Not unless something inside you has rotted.

Not unless you’ve looked yourself in the eye, felt the softness in your gut, the weight of craving behind your eyes, the twitch of your fingers reaching for sugar or distraction — and whispered, “enough.”

That’s where I was.

The night before it all began.

And I wanted to watch one last film — one final act of indulgence before the fire.

No joy. No escapism. No colour-coded super heroes fighting CGI monsters against a green-screen.

No. I wanted something with weight. Something that would haunt me in the quiet.

A sermon, maybe. A confrontation. Something brutal, clever, cold.

So I rented Heretic.

And fuck me, it was perfect.

ENTER THE HOUSE

The premise is simple enough:

Two sweet, earnest missionary girls knock on a stranger’s door.

He’s older. British. Handsome in that intelligent, soft-spoken way that only men with real books in their house can pull off.

Naturally, I was already rooting for him.

Naturally, the girls looked ready to be converted 😏😏

But this isn’t the set up of a cheap porno or a seduction story — at least not of the flesh.

This is about the spirit.

And the man who answers the door? He doesn’t want their bodies. Not yet.

First, he wants to dismantle their faith.

He wants to peel back their smiles, their borrowed scripture, their innocence — and crush it with questions they aren’t prepared to answer.

His God isn’t the one in their pamphlets.

His god is truth — the dark, unyielding kind that leaves no room for comfort, no room for redemption.

He opens the door not to welcome them, but to witness them.

And it’s fucking terrifying.

HUGH GRANT IS NOT YOUR FRIEND

Let’s not tiptoe here.

Hugh Grant is extraordinary.

His character, a lean, erudite predator cloaked in politeness, carries this film with surgical precision. You think you’re watching a quiet man with questions. You’re not. You’re watching a heretic priest with a scalpel.

There’s no shouting. No dramatic outbursts. Just absolute control. Every word is measured. Every silence, intentional. He speaks like he’s already won — like the soul in front of him is already bleeding out, and he’s just enjoying the view.

This isn’t religion as you know it. It’s a dissection of belief.

It’s Hugh Grant’s final form:

Not the fumbling romantic. Not the lovable rogue.

But a man who tears holes in people with philosophy and patience.

He plays this role like he’s been waiting his whole life to deliver these lines.

And God, he delivers them beautifully.

SOPHIE & CHLOE: SACRIFICE AND RECKONING

The girls — Sophie Thatcher and Chloe East — are phenomenal.

Thatcher, all dark eyes and buried instinct, gives a performance that simmers. Her character sees through the surface earlier than her companion, but she plays it close, smart. You can feel her watching the room, learning the rules of the game as they shift.

She doesn’t just survive — she evolves.

Chloe East, wide-eyed and devout, is the emotional anchor. She’s the believer. The lamb. And watching her slow descent — her certainty eroded, her faith twisted in her hands — is devastating.

There’s a scene where she stares into the abyss and you see her fall.

Not with screams. Not with violence. But with understanding.

Their chemistry, their individual arcs, their humanity — it’s what makes this film work.

You believe them.

You suffer with them.

And when they begin to push back — when they fight — it’s not in the name of horror tropes.

It’s in the name of identity.

SCRIPTURE AND SILENCE

The writing in Heretic is unlike anything I’ve seen in years.

It’s not just smart — it’s spiritually brutal.

It knows the weight of words.

It knows how to make silence feel like a sermon.

And it refuses to give you comfort — because that’s the point.

This isn’t a horror film about violence.

It’s a horror film about certainty.

What happens when someone knows something you don’t — and is willing to burn you for it.

The script dances through theology, philosophy, and human frailty like a seasoned priest dancing around a fire he secretly lit.

No jump scares.

No sloppy gore.

Just truth, delivered like a confession — and then punished.

The cinematography matches the mood: dark wood interiors, dim lamps, suffocating composition.

You feel trapped, just like the girls.

The soundtrack, too, is restrained — no bombast. Just slow, dreadful notes that make your heartbeat the loudest sound in the room.

THE FINAL FEAST

When it ended, I just sat there.

Still.

Silent.

Watching the credits roll over a soul that felt exorcised.

Heretic was more than a film that night — it was a mirror.

A final ritual. A cold goodbye to softness.

The story of two innocent girls who entered the house thinking they were on a mission — and left it knowing that belief alone doesn’t save you.

You need clarity.

You need fire.

You need the will to fight for your soul.

And so do I.

And that’s why this film was perfect.

Because I wasn’t looking for something to distract me.

I was looking for something to challenge me, prod me... make me think.

I watched Heretic, and when it was over,

I turned off the screen.

Lit a candle.

And began the long road into the dark with my eyes wide open and a reignited passion for discovery and growth.

ULF’S FINAL VERDICT

* Performance (Grant): 10/10 — The man doesn’t act. He converts.

* Performance (Thatcher): 10/10 — All calculation and coiled will.

* Performance (East): 10/10 — The quiet death of innocence.

* Script: 10/10 — More sacred than half the sermons you’ve heard.

* Pacing & atmosphere: 9.5/10 — A masterclass in dread.

* Ending: 9/10 — Just a thread shy of perfection.

* Overall: 9.8/10.

ONE LAST PRAYER

I chose this movie to watch on the night before embarking on an epic 112 day journey through hardship and restriction.

I was about to give up comfort, to walk into fire, and tear my soul down to the studs just to see what’s left beneath it all — behind the screens and the comfort food and the alcohol and the distractions.

And I can tel you with absolute honesty that Heretic made for the perfect final meal.

My last indulgence.

So let it whisper to you in the dark.

Let it strip you clean.

Let it challenge you and make you question the very fabric of our universe.

Because that’s what it did to me.

Ulf recommends. Unequivocally.

🪓 Like what you read?🪓

🪙 Then toss a coin into the fountain.

Make a wish —

for wilder words, sharper truths,

and more wild-folk with wild hair doing wild things.

Each offering stirs the water, feeds the fire,

and helps one such beast keep writing beneath the stars.