Heretic Movie Explained
Why the scariest thing in horror isn’t the monster—it’s not knowing what to believe.
This isn’t just a horror movie. It’s a philosophy lesson wrapped in psychological torment. It’s a slow-burn existential crisis disguised as a thriller.
Horror movies usually have the decency to tell you what to be afraid of. The demon is real. The killer is in the house. The monster will eat you. The end. You walk away shaken but secure in your knowledge of what happened.
Not Heretic. This film plays a different game. It doesn’t just scare you—it messes with you. It gives you a Rorschach test disguised as a horror flick, making you question not just what you saw, but what you believe.
And in a time when faith, truth, and reality itself are under constant scrutiny, Heretic is more than just a psychological thriller. It’s a mirror held up to our most primal uncertainties.
⮕ It asks: Do you believe because you have proof? Or do you believe because you need to? And when the credits roll, it doesn’t give you an answer. That’s up to you.
Belief or Non-Belief? Pick a Door, Any Door
Let’s start with the film’s biggest trick: choice.
Throughout Heretic, Mr. Reed, presents Sister Paxton and Sister Barnes with a recurring binary: belief or non-belief.
It’s not just a test of faith—it’s a psychological trap.
If they go through the “belief” door, they’re playing into his experiment.
If they go through “non-belief,” they’re still in his hands.
It’s the ultimate con: making people think they have control while taking it away. And isn’t that exactly how belief—whether in religion, politics, or reality itself—so often works? We think we’re choosing, but our options have been preloaded. We believe what we’ve been conditioned to believe.
Mr. Reed knows this. The movie knows this. And it plays us just like it plays its protagonists. By the time we get to the end, Heretic has trained us to expect an answer.
Did Sister Barnes actually come back to life?
Was Paxton’s final escape real?
Did the butterfly landing on her hand confirm some divine truth… or was it just a hallucination before death?
We want closure. We want to know. But Heretic refuses. Because this film isn’t about telling us what to think. It’s about making us confront the terrifying fact that, sometimes, we’ll never really know.
The Butterfly Effect (But Make It Existential)
Let’s talk about that damn butterfly.
At the start, Paxton tells Barnes:
When I die, I want to come back as a butterfly. I’ll land on your fingertip, so you’ll know it’s me.
It’s a quiet moment, barely a blip in the chaos to come. But then, at the very end—after everything—Paxton escapes, collapses in the snow, and a butterfly lands on her fingertip. A miracle? A sign? Proof that Barnes came back to her, just like she promised?
Except—cut. The butterfly is gone. Paxton is alone. What happened?
Divine intervention? Her dying hallucination? Maybe she never even escaped the house at all? Maybe she’s already dead, and what we’re seeing is her slipping into the afterlife?
We don’t know. And that’s exactly the point.
This is Schrödinger’s Butterfly—simultaneously real and imaginary, depending on the viewer. If you want to see proof of the supernatural, you’ll find it. If you’re a skeptic, you’ll dismiss it. Either way, you’re making a choice.
Just like Reed forced the Sisters to choose between doors, Heretic forces the audience to pick what to believe.
A Horror Film About Certainty—And How Dangerous It Is
Horror is usually about fear of the unknown. Heretic goes a step further. It’s about the fear of never knowing.
Mr. Reed isn’t just a serial killer with a God complex—he’s an architect of doubt. He doesn’t just want to control his victims physically; he wants to break their understanding of reality itself.
His monologues about simulation theory and religious history aren’t just ramblings; they’re meant to wear down the Sisters’ trust in their own perception. And the most unsettling part?
He’s not entirely wrong.
Belief—whether in religion, institutions, or even our own memories—is a construct. Sure, in this case, the antagonist is a liar and a manipulator, but his core philosophy is something we all wrestle with: How much of what we believe is real, and how much of it is just the story we tell ourselves to make sense of the world?
It’s why cult leaders thrive. It’s why conspiracy theories spread. It’s why Heretic lingers long after the credits roll.
The Horror of Never Knowing
At the end of the day, Heretic doesn’t scare you with gore, jump scares, or monsters. It scares you with a question: What do you believe?
And—more terrifyingly—why? Because if we can’t always trust what we see… what else have we been wrong about?
This isn’t just a horror movie. It’s a philosophy lesson wrapped in psychological torment. It’s a slow-burn existential crisis disguised as a thriller.
And that’s what makes it truly terrifying. Because long after you’ve left the theater, Heretic is still in your head, whispering:
Are you sure?