Hugh Grant is a fantastic villain

Heretic is the latest horror film from writer-directors Scott Beck and Bryan Woods (A Quite Place) and stars Hugh Grant, now enjoying the villainous chapter of his career. (See: Paddington 2, The Undoing, The Gentlemen, etc.) Here, he plays a fella who imprisons two young Mormon missionaries as he seeks to torment and terrify them into renouncing their faith.

Though the film doesn’t quite land and may not be as clever as it thinks it is, it builds tension nicely, and it’s enjoyable watching Grant have so much fun. All those years as a rom-com star when what he’s most good at, it turns out, is being thoroughly bad.

The two young Mormon missionaries are Sisters Barnes and Paxton, wonderfully played by Sophie Thatcher and Chloe East, both of whom were brought up as Mormons but chose to leave to become actors. Barnes and Paxton are lively, bubbly, curious young women who don’t have much luck proselytizing on the street as people push past them, declining their leaflets. (I always decline such leaflets, less for religious reasons, more for their crimes against graphic design.) But they are hopeful of a convert in the form of a Mr. Reed, who has expressed an interest in the church via its elders and has requested a home visit. The girls arrive during a downpour to discover his house stands alone in a wood. (Run, girls, run!) But when Mr. Reed (Grant) comes to the door in his grandpa knit, with glasses in his top pocket, he could not be friendlier or more welcoming. Rules dictate that they can’t be with a man on his own but, he says, his wife is in the kitchen baking a blueberry pie. Will that do? It will.

It turns out Mr. Reed is theologically knowledgeable and it’s a cozy chat at first — he’s delightful and funny — but as the radiators clank and the clock over the mantelpiece ticks and rain batters the windows the atmosphere gets creepier and creepier as he challenges more and more of what they say.

And where is his wife? I’ll go get her, he says. He returns alone. “My wife is being shy,” he says, “but the pie is nigh!” The penny drops. There is no wife. No pie is nigh. They are scared. They make to leave. The doors are locked.

The first half of the film is a talky, psychological thriller as Mr. Reed — a sort of Richard Dawkins turned psychopathic — plays mind games. He deploys various arguments to show Barnes and Paxton they are merely salespeople for a lie.

And it’s not just their religion — all religions are lies, he says. He uses metaphors involving pop culture and references Monopoly, fast food, Radiohead. Then he goes for the jugular. Why did Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism, condone polygamy if he wasn’t a misogynist who wanted to sleep with a lot of women? Quite what Reed’s motivations are, I still can’t say. Also, as faith is faith, is there actually any point in arguing against it? Beck and Woods don’t bring anything especially new to the party here, although possibly they think they do.

The second half is more horror-horror, involving dank basements, dark corridors and trap doors — the production design is terrific. But I did start to wonder if I hadn’t had enough of watching two young women being terrorized. (Give them a break, Mr. Reed!)

The ending, alas, doesn’t add up at all. But ignore that if you can, and focus on Grant, who is hugely and extravagantly charming one minute and outright sinister the next.

There is also a lesson to be learned: always check right away if there is a pie in the oven. It will save you from a lot of trouble later.

This article was originally published in The Spectator’s UK magazine. Subscribe to the World edition here.