Ari Aster is growing to become a vocal, prominent, and unique auteur in the horror landscape, abandoning traditional scares and frights in favor of dread, patience, and technique. Last year’s Hereditary showed what he’s capable of as a visionary harbinger of darkness despite a polarizing reception from the general audience. Now, Aster puts aside the terrorizing claustrophobia of a cursed family’s home for Midsommar, a twisted fable of sun, smiles, and surrealism that entraps you within a hallucinogenic fantasy of trepidation. This time around, he’s not as reliant on more horrific and ghoulish undertones as he was with Hereditary. Instead, Ari Aster offers up a disturbing and tense journey through a bright and radiant Wonderland of anxiety and apprehension and ties it beautifully with a tragic, personal devolution of an unstable relationship at its core.
Dani (Florence Pugh) is going through a rough time with her uncommitted and disinterested boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor), who has been planning on breaking up with her for some time, with advice from friends Mark (Will Poulter) and Josh (William Jackson Harper). The plan changes however when Dani goes through an unexpected tragedy in the family and needs Christian for emotional support, which he is incapable of providing. Not wanting to feel guilty, Christian decides to invite Dani to join him and his friends’ trip to Sweden, set up by another friend Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren). Once there, they partake in a special tradition called Midsommar, a folkloric festival that is celebrated by the locals for 9 days every 90 years. But the longer they stay, the more they realize that something ominous is afoot. People start going missing, strange practices are initiated, and it soon becomes clear that the people there are not all they make out to be.
After seeing it the first time, I knew I had to see it again. The first viewing was incredibly overwhelming to the point where I was still processing it 2 days after. It became clear soon after that a second viewing was, while optional, very helpful in fully digesting the experience as a whole. Aster clearly has a lot on his mind and he ensures that everyone listens to what he has to say. On its surface, the film is a well-directed, beautifully acted, and hauntingly written story about a break-up set within a pagan cult in the middle of nowhere. But it’s the second viewing where Aster’s mastery of the craft truly takes hold of you. The details reveal themselves, the technique shines like Sweden’s ever-lasting sun, and the emotion becomes ever more poignant and surreal. The story is less about a break-up in the midst of a cult-slasher and more about the slow and tragic disintegration of an already unstable relationship as well as a tale of codependency, empathy vs apathy, grief, and a lone woman’s journey of self-discovery as she learns to navigate her toxic romance and personal trauma.
Midsommar stands out in the same way Hereditary did last year in that Aster vehemently relies on drawing out the terror and horror as the story progresses, one layer at a time. Each set piece is meticulously crafted and delicately detailed so as to invoke a powerful feeling of urgency and uneasiness. It’s why this film acts as more of a very disturbing and agonizing trip down the rabbit hole rather than just a horror film. Much of the “horror” that does arise from the story isn’t from jump scares or spooky specters in the dark, but rather some admittedly gruesome scenes that’ll leave you in complete shock as well as some unsettling imagery that adds to the terror and the philosophy of the story being told. Right from the beginning, from the first few scenes, we already become aware of how tragically pernicious Dani and Christian’s relationship truly is. Through a few trickeries of the set and camera, we know that this relationship is doomed to sink, and we follow along as we watch this romantic disintegration unfold.
All that dread and drama is made all the more anxious with the introduction of the Swedish landscape our heroes traverse. Ari Aster is embracing more of the folk horror seen in previous films such as 1973’s Wicker Man in order to unsettle his audience and to terrific effect. He utilizes the festival and all the folklore that comes with it to create an alien world where our protagonists are trapped within a chamber of enchantment, hypnosis, and fantasy. We are submerged within a sea of tradition and taboo, with plenty of dances, feasts, artwork, and symbolism/runic writing. At first, it’s all enticing and intriguing. Even the residents are warm and welcoming at first, giving our wary group of travelers hugs, kisses, and casual greetings while inviting them to submerse themselves in their traditions of old. Throughout the film, they’re invited to participate, learn, and adapt to these foreign customs.
But given this is a story by Ari Aster, something is bound to happen that’ll flip their worlds upside down, and true enough, something does, though it would be reprehensible to give away what exactly triggers our traveling group. What can be said is that this triggering event, and anything else that comes after, aren’t scary, per se. Rather, they rattle you to the bones, so much so you’ll look away not out of fear, but out of disgust and uneasiness.
That unsettling feeling felt throughout can also be attributed to the brilliantly rich cinematography and camera work, conducted by Hereditary’s Pawel Pogorzelski. The opening scenes occur before our characters enter the Swedish wilderness, but they nonetheless evoke that same ominous atmosphere and tone as in Hereditary. The real magic, however, is when we reach the festival itself. Surrounded by lush forests and towering mountains, we are treated to bright and shimmering sunbeams that touches every square-inch of this vast community, almost as if Aster cast some enchantment or spell onto every frame. The vibrant color palette, sweeping camera work, and almost blinding saturation dominate the screen and create an almost otherworldly climate. This spellbinding aura the film gives off is further enhanced by subtle but effective visual tricks, with the mountains and forests constantly warping like waves in the ocean or flowers opening as if they’re breathing. The natural world itself comes to life as it interacts with our leads in more ways than one and emphasize this community’s, and Dani’s ever-evolving, connection to nature.
Florence Pugh herself is the heart and soul of the story, and her performance epitomizes the heart-wrenching emotion, disorienting distress, and somber grief the story as a whole undergoes. Pugh was already well-versed in the acting business with roles in such films as Lady Macbeth, Outlaw King, and this year’s Fighting With My Family. But her role as Dani Ardor is probably her finest work in her entire career. Never shying into the over-the-top, Dani conveys the trauma and agony she endures from the very beginning and never lets go of it. As she attempts to adjust herself with the lifestyles of the odd townsfolk, Pugh effectively displays the confusion, stress, and panic of a woman lost in her own grief and desperation as she tries to find a way to cope with her pain.
Overall, Midsommar is a step in a different direction for Ari Aster that cements his place as one of Hollywood’s top horror maestros. Boasting a devastating performance from Florence Pugh and breathtaking cinematography, Aster presents a challenging, twisted, and above all haunting trip through a field of sunflowers and rainbows that’ll leave you disturbed and pondering well after the very last shot of the film. Midsommar is a perfect companion-piece to Hereditary and it’s really fun to think about what else Ari Aster has up his sleeve for the future.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Vnghdsjmd0&t=1s&w=585