notjustaboutsex

by Nancy Cohen-koan

I must give testimony: I could watch Hugh Grant perform bunion surgery, that’s how much I adore him. I even wrote a script for him, not knowing if he could do a Scottish accent or jump over a burning Maypole, but never mind, he’s gorgeous, and his voice completes the package, now deeper and more assured.

He also has a self-mocking humor that reminds me of my best therapy sessions.

In The Heretic, directed by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, Grant plays a man, Mr. Reed, who has no truck for church or the gods that come with it and his man-‘splaining on the subject is full on.

Into Reed’s lair, two devoted young Mormons show up, Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) and Sister Paxton (Chloe East), innocently hoping to get their baptismal quota in by five o’clock. They are fresh and shiny and have little doubts about their faith and the work they do to spread it. But these girls are not empty-headed groupies for God…they are well spoken, thoughtful and clever enough not to take liquid refreshment from a strange man.

Being chaste, they are not permitted to enter the potential convertees home if no other woman is present. But Reed assures them his wife is in the back making a blueberry pie. Never will I touch this fruit again without thinking of the evil baked into its crust. Pies, of course, are a great American hoax symbol…everything that is good in the world is America and her pies…. but now we know the levee is dry and innocence doesn’t sell. The missionaries have been caught in their own sales trap, but it’s hardly a fair match. They know little of life outside their tight community and though they have never met a monster like Grant, they are smart enough to be frightened.

Mr. Reed’s clever gamesmanship recalls Laurence Olivier’s character in Sleuth… someone who prides himself on playing tricks with their opponent’s mind. Reed’s erudition on religion is so delicious that I patently refused to his bad boy side until more than mid-way through the film, even when he dons a pair of yucky 80’s aviator frames.

There’s a bit of the lady or the tiger routine in the escape question scene, but I won’t spoil any of the suspense by saying more. What’s nice is at one moment there is concern for the sisters and in the next, we are curious to see what clever Reed will pull off.

Unless the host can fly, some of Reed’s tricks would seem to require a valet or two to assist and I was very surprised when shy Sister Paxton is suddenly able to spew out an analysis of the night’s events.

Usually, I tend to lose interest in horror as the bloody moments pile up and secretly yearn for a more civilized resolution, but still, the film followed me into my nightly dreams and was there the next day. It was very satisfying, though still, I am left with two questions: Mr. Reed… are the older women we meet later on in the story actually missionaries or your ex -wives and, yes, how good does Mr. Grant look in a kilt?