Ever since Nosferatu’s Max Schreck’s shadow slinked across the screen, movies have been subverting storytelling conventions and providing alternative perspectives. Nosferatu, an abject social metaphor for post WWI plague and German xenophobia, proved horror movie storytelling could instill philosophic concepts beyond that of its Hollywood counterparts, mainly seen for entertainment. Nosferatu is the grandfather of horror pictures, and like a vampire, it has spread its subversive virus into just about every notable horror film since, most especially religious horror films like Virgin, which is about to take a film festival near you by storm.

Ramone Menon’s Virgin traverses familiar territory by obfuscating the age-old story of Catholic nativity and turning Mary into a demon-fighting mother to Christ. You know the story, but you’ve probably never considered it could look like this. Menon, who wrote and directed the short, definitely spent a long time weighing the logic against the supernatural elements and arrived with critical thoughts and some volatile conclusions determined to shake the foundations of what you think you know about these characters.

Menon has a stylish look to all his films, using deep colors that stay effectually colorful, even in the darkest parts of his movies. His visual aesthetic is often undeniable, and one day, we may be defining it the same way we would any auteur. You can also surmise he’s a huge Sam Raimi fan, given his love for stationary zooms into Dutch angles. This is as true for Virgin as it is for his last endeavor, My Scary Indian Wedding, which is as fueled by Raimi’s inspiration as anything I’ve ever seen. And, again, Menon proves it’s well-used to create atmosphere and permeate terror.

Virgin may only be fifteen minutes, but it makes a monstrous point about how we consider this ancient story in a book we’re meant to believe without question: taken as gospel. As our titular Virgin looks right into the camera lens during the opening, you can feel the deep resolve that the director is inviting controversy, even if he’s very cautious about how he treads forward. Does his character Miryam (Jessica Damouni) see us? Are we a part of this? As purveyors of thousands of years of the story, perhaps we bear some responsibility for what’s about to occur. But in this momentary dread-stare, Menon unsettles us, perhaps only to capture the audience’s attention to the more challenging night ahead for these characters.

There are a lot of ways that Menon could take Virgin’s story, but he’s very delicate with the presentation. I kept waiting for a severe undermining of the story, but there’s nothing egregiously offensive on the surface of Virgin. Instead, he adds to the story, considering the unholy challenges Mary could have faced from dark forces leading up to the birth of Jesus and the hell she went through to bring him into the world. If anything, you could consider the effort empowering, showing Mary attempting to protect her unborn child.

But there are always going to be those who don’t see it that way. In Virgin’s undercurrent, there are ruminations of domestic violence, among other disconcerting details that deserve pause and consideration. Many won’t like the unpleasantness that side of the film points out. Still, speaking to the values of the time, it’s fathomable, especially as Yosef (Herman Gambhir) demands answers about the baby’s father. There’s an internal struggle with these characters and their relationship as they deal with the immaculate conception, and it seems to manifest itself in devilish ways. Yoseph is helping Miryam, but there’s a tangible struggle between her guilt and his jealousy.

Like the mic drop moment we recently witnessed in Dima Barch’s The Power of the Strike, Menon’s Virgin advocates the director’s willingness to court high-stakes horror with controversial concepts. However, unlike Barch’s mic-drop biblical declaration at the end of his film, Menon plays his short more on the subtextual side. There’s ambitiousness and ambiguity. How you interpret the film may depend on your affiliations. Some may love this exploration of faith, while others will see it as a provocation. Menon never engages or advocates one way or the other but offers revelations worth thinking about in a scary send-up of one of Catholicism’s most compelling stories.

If you’re not one for religious horror or don’t appreciate new takes on biblical stories, Virgin probably won’t be for you. But those who love demonic inferences and old ideas transfigured into new approaches will really enjoy what Menon has done here. Virgin is edgy and ambiguous, but it’s not haphazardly put together just for shock value. It’s a thoroughly thought-through retelling that captures the pressures of a profoundly tested relationship, the complexity of two people caught in an unprecedented situation, and the demons that situation can evoke. For me, I don’t want gold, frankincense, or myrrh. I’m more amped by the prospect of this being a proof of concept for something much larger.