What do you get when you combine a pagan cult with a group of unassuming friends, psychedelic drugs, broad daylight, and demonic rituals? Well, you get a summer self-empowerment film in Midsommar. Yes, Midsommar, the psychological horror thriller, directed by Ari Aster, creator of last years’ horrifying hit Hereditary, is a self-empowerment film, and it is a damn good one as well.
Midsommar sets its horrific tone right away as we follow Dani (Florence Pugh), as she desperately tries to get in contact with her sister, who has repeatedly been sending her suicidal messages. Throughout her desperate attempts to get to her sister, Dani seeks the help of her boyfriend, Christian (Jack Reynor), who has now become so lazy in giving compassion that simply comforting Dani in a trying time or breaking up with her is a chore to him. Despite Dani’s attempts to reach her sister, tragedy strikes as Dani’s sister commits a murder-suicide of herself and her family, depicted in a hauntingly beautiful 15-minute sequence, leaving Dani alone with no one but Christian by her side. After these traumatic events, Christian suggests Dani come to Sweden with him and his friends to study the Hårga, a Swedish cult, and their ceremonies. However, as they arrive, they realize that they are not just observers, but participants in the proceedings of a ceremony with one strange event after another.
Midsommar is disturbing. Period. However, what makes Midsommar so compelling is its willingness to embrace its obscurities and tropes to the max and not try to be something that it is not. It is a slasher film at its core, evidenced as people, one-by-one, get killed off by the horror around them. However, it also does not question the strange pagan cult that it follows, unabashedly leaning into all the strange rituals and chants of the Hårga instead. Through the unquestioning nature of its roots is where Midsommar achieves its power. It bends its genre not by subverting the expectations of horror, but by not shying away from what makes its horror extraordinary. In turn, it allows Midsommar’s themes to come out through its obscurities rather than the other way around à la Hereditary.
Utilizing lush landscapes with daytime horror, lens flares, and constant sequences of bizarreness, Aster creates a contradiction in your senses that leaves you questioning your basic instincts. Aster’s terrific crafting of the film and the weight that Florence Pugh brings to Midsommar with her hauntingly arresting performance of emotional trauma combine to create chaos and confusion that prevents the mind from thinking about anything but what is on screen. This effect is at its best when we resign to accept what we see. The mysticism and pagan rituals are simply the backdrops in which Aster chooses to tell his story, and by fully embracing the madness towards our senses, we experience this film come together, both thematically and in its overall fun.
Through its visceral yet serene and hypnotic tone, Midsommar creates an intoxicating lull of terror different from Aster’s cardiac arrest inducing nightmare, Hereditary, and that is where the magic of Midsommar happens. It is no secret that Midsommar will leave you wondering “What just happened?”. However, the contradiction between the hypnotic lull used to calm the mind and the horrific events used to consume one’s thoughts helps Midsommar successfully assault your senses to the point where this question becomes irrelevant. This film is not interested in answering “What just happened?”, and although it may be frustrating, Midsommar is fear-inducing in that it asks us to ask ourselves, “Why do we think this is horrifying?” and “Is this not normal, or is it just a societal view that we have trapped ourselves in?”. Not only are our senses being assaulted by the visuals on screen, but they are also being attacked by our inner consciousness as we begin to question ourselves.
However, in the end, what makes Midsommar such a satisfying tale is that it is a slow burn that reaches a triumphant conclusion. Through every ritual and chant, Midsommar successfully invites us to analyze not only the surface level nature of what is going on, but how it relates to us as humans. As much as Midsommar drenches itself with strange demonic and fantastical musings, it is oddly grounded in humanity and empathy, always keeping in focus the unhealthy and all too relatable relationship dynamic between Dani and Christian as it analyzes the human psyche and the attachment we have for each other. How much are we willing to blame ourselves so we can save others? How much are we willing to give up or hold onto to please and not be a burden?
As Midsommar poses these questions, it slowly reveals itself as a celebration rather than a horrific demise. It wants us to celebrate ourselves and take back the power that we often repress for the sake of others. Ari Aster has long said that Midsommar is his breakup film, and the more you watch this film, you understand what he is saying as you see the slow deconstruction of an unhealthy relationship. However, instead of allowing the film to drift towards the sorrow of a broken relationship, Midsommar becomes a giant “F*** You” to those who took you for granted, and you know what? I am here for every single minute of it.
4.25/5 STARS