MidsommarEven the brightest sun can cast the darkest shadows over our hearts. Midsommar is a horror film about a young woman named Dani Ardor (Florence Pugh), who experiences a devastating personal loss on cold winter night that understandably leaves her a grief-stricken wreck. She turns to her ambivalent and shiftless boyfriend, Christian Hughes (Jack Reynor), for comfort, only to be treated like a pariah by him and his clique of collegiate amigos, with whom he plans to accompany for a field study/European party trip to Sweden in June. Dani goes with Christian and the rest to the remote ancestral home of one of Christian's colleagues, Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren), where her unresolved grief combines with the Hårga's warped traditions, transforming into a vivid, waking nightmare.
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Much of the horror of Midsommar takes place under the "Midnight sun" in the remote commune of the Hårga in northern Sweden during the summer solstice. This adds an extra layer to moments of terrible violence, as they are displayed not only in broad daylight, but in the center of a community that embraces savage pagan rituals. Midsommar opens with shots of a wintry wilderness--presumably in Sweden--and then highlights a terrible winter night for Dani when her world comes apart. As the snow falls down, it initially generates associations with winter and death, subverted for the rest of the film. It is interesting that Midsommar is set in Sweden during its very brief period of summer; many of celebrated Swedish filmmaker Ingmar Bergman's films were set in this warm and welcoming season, yet Midsommar explores elements of dark and ancient folklore rarely found in Bergman's films, save for The Virgin Spring. As Dani, Christian, and two other American guests--Josh (William Jackson Harper) and Mark (Will Poulter)--try to come to terms with the creeping violence and brutality passed off as "cultural differences", it becomes increasingly difficult for them to separate their narrow American worldview from those of this foreign community. Written and directed by Ari Aster, Midsommar shares similarities with the filmmaker's prior work, the masterful horror film, Hereditary. Both films deal extensively with the shattering effects of grief and operate best when they are constantly ratcheting up dread and anxiety. One key difference is in the level of sympathy the audience should have with the American characters. There is a pervasive sorrow for the family in Hereditary, because they are all but victims. Conversely, the characters of Midsommar are the quintessential "Ugly Americans", before and during their trip to Sweden. Dani is partially exempt from this critique since she is constantly struggling with the aftermath of her sister's crippling bipolar disorder and her own insecurities. Christian, on the other hand, is everything from a spineless worm to a manipulative jerk who never misses an opportunity to play mind games with Dani and his friends, trying to make them feel less important than himself. It is rare that any of these characters truly mean what they say, operating on a register of passive-aggressiveness and guarded restraint, but there is always a wrinkle of what they mean in what they say. Midsommar is deliberately slower paced than its predecessor, but this affords the film the opportunity to explore the twisted psychology of the characters--coincidentally, Dani's major in school--even those who superficially appear "normal" by American standards. It is evident that Dani and Christian are not truly happy together, but Dani is desperately afraid of being abandoned by Christian, and so acquiesces to his insensitive behavior and adopts a needlessly submissive attitude when she did nothing wrong in order to appease him. Christian spends his free time smoking marijuana with his layabout buddies rather than commit to a thesis topic, and half-heartedly entertains the know-it-all input of Josh and Mark to blow off Dani. Yet after Dani's tragedy, their relationship is stuck on life support for another half of a year, born from an obligation that is essentially a prison sentence for them both. Theirs is a relationship not built on love but fear.
Christian and his friends initially plan to go to Sweden without Dani, and it is openly discussed that they'll use the opportunity to screw a bunch of "Swedish milk maids". Christian invites Dani presumably out of guilt for getting caught at hiding it from her. Yet he takes advantage of the invite to make her feel even more like a fifth wheel and despised by his buds--one of many dishonorable moves by this narcissistic rube. After they arrive in Sweden, one of the first things the Americans do is take hallucinogenic mushrooms; Dani is resistant, but is ultimately pressured to comply, as the supremely self-absorbed Mark claims that without all of them partaking at once, it won't be the same experience. (In reality, like Christian, Mark is using Dani's reticence to attack her self-esteem, bummed at having a woman present who might interfere with his indulging in his depraved urges.) Dani's trip (in all senses of the word) is unquestionably bad, as she begins envisioning members of the community laughing at her and other terrible images, before passing out in the sun-soaked grass. Even before her tragedy, Dani worries that she will lose Christian because of her emotional "baggage", and has gone six months without being able to cope with her grief, turning to pills and solitude instead. Pelle tries to find common ground with her by sharing a similar tragedy he experienced in his youth, but all it does is remind her of the utter loneliness that claws through her heart. When the group arrives at the remote village, they witness a display of pageantry that befits a community celebrating ancient customs. All seems relatively normal--save for an abounding cult-like mystique--until the film reveals an illustrated tapestry depicting a perverse love ritual loaded with occult connotations. Other moments hint at an unquiet foundation in the remote commune, from a bear locked in a small cage to a mysterious yellow hut on the outskirts of the community that (presumably) no one enters. The whole clan is often contradictory in their explanations about their customs--sometimes in rapid succession--suggesting a wide-spread conspiracy at work. The Americans--and to an extent, a pair of British visitors named Connie (Ellora Torchia) and Simon (Archie Madekwe)--try to play along with the oblique rituals, but always apply their own cultural biases to them. Josh is very studious, but even he is more interested in his thesis on midsummer traditions than the moral implications of the horrible atrocities he witnesses. Even when he first meets a community leader, he comments on similarities between their customs and those of another remote clan somewhere else in the world; he doesn't do this for the leader's benefit, but to make himself appear more educated. Similarly, Mark is a scion of snotty American arrogance, souring every experience with his sole fixation on getting high and laid; at one point, he even carelessly urinates on the ashes of the community's ancestors.
Midsommar embraces horror movie tropes to underscore how stupid and conceited these visiting Americans are, similar to slasher films like Halloween do. After the first gruesome ritual, the visitors react with shock and horror, and it would be expected that they would simply flee the village without a second thought. Instead, they allow another community elder to quell their disquiet with justifications for why the act had meaning to them, and the foreigners are too weak-willed to stand up to what they know instinctively to be morally reprehensible. Audiences will no doubt see this scene as a clear and unquestionable sign of more horror to come; but the complacent, entitled Americans are so convinced of their own security and/or are so conditioned to avoid actively questioning foreign customs for fear of revealing their ignorance--and in the case of Christian and his pals, are even outright numb to genuine empathy--that they remain. Signs continue to abound that there is a foulness at work among the Hårga, from increasingly bizarre ceremonies--often employing hallucinogenic drugs--to instances of guests "disappearing" from the village without a word. The sense that something horrible is always just about to happen in this seemingly halcyon retreat is reminiscent of horror movies like Ti West's The Sacrament, and makes the wide open locale feel ironically claustrophobic. There is a sly effort by the members of the Hårga to "convert" or separate the Americans from their cultural values--such as they are--in varying ways. Pelle sympathizes with Dani's grief without seeming like he is trying to seduce her, but as though he is being developed as a potential love interest to replace Christian. Christian, on the other hand, draws the eye of a girl named Maja (Isabelle Grill), who having just come of reproductive age, employs the rituals of her people to compel the already weak-willed male to mate with her. Watching Midsommar is a bit like free-falling: it never gives the audience a firm grasp on what cultural standards--those of modern civilization or the secluded Hårga--to fall back on for comfort or security; neither are spared from being flayed beneath a scrutinizing flensing knife. Instead, it proposes that people should not allow their insecurities to dictate their behavior, subsequently falling prey to dangers that should be obvious to avoid on an instinctive level.
Recommended for: Fans of a tense and anxiety-ridden horror film, one that explores the dangers of ignorance and privilege amidst warped practices posing as tradition. Midsommar is a slow burn of a horror film, rewarding patient audiences and leaving them shaken from the harrowing experience long after the movie ends.
Christian and his friends initially plan to go to Sweden without Dani, and it is openly discussed that they'll use the opportunity to screw a bunch of "Swedish milk maids". Christian invites Dani presumably out of guilt for getting caught at hiding it from her. Yet he takes advantage of the invite to make her feel even more like a fifth wheel and despised by his buds--one of many dishonorable moves by this narcissistic rube. After they arrive in Sweden, one of the first things the Americans do is take hallucinogenic mushrooms; Dani is resistant, but is ultimately pressured to comply, as the supremely self-absorbed Mark claims that without all of them partaking at once, it won't be the same experience. (In reality, like Christian, Mark is using Dani's reticence to attack her self-esteem, bummed at having a woman present who might interfere with his indulging in his depraved urges.) Dani's trip (in all senses of the word) is unquestionably bad, as she begins envisioning members of the community laughing at her and other terrible images, before passing out in the sun-soaked grass. Even before her tragedy, Dani worries that she will lose Christian because of her emotional "baggage", and has gone six months without being able to cope with her grief, turning to pills and solitude instead. Pelle tries to find common ground with her by sharing a similar tragedy he experienced in his youth, but all it does is remind her of the utter loneliness that claws through her heart. When the group arrives at the remote village, they witness a display of pageantry that befits a community celebrating ancient customs. All seems relatively normal--save for an abounding cult-like mystique--until the film reveals an illustrated tapestry depicting a perverse love ritual loaded with occult connotations. Other moments hint at an unquiet foundation in the remote commune, from a bear locked in a small cage to a mysterious yellow hut on the outskirts of the community that (presumably) no one enters. The whole clan is often contradictory in their explanations about their customs--sometimes in rapid succession--suggesting a wide-spread conspiracy at work. The Americans--and to an extent, a pair of British visitors named Connie (Ellora Torchia) and Simon (Archie Madekwe)--try to play along with the oblique rituals, but always apply their own cultural biases to them. Josh is very studious, but even he is more interested in his thesis on midsummer traditions than the moral implications of the horrible atrocities he witnesses. Even when he first meets a community leader, he comments on similarities between their customs and those of another remote clan somewhere else in the world; he doesn't do this for the leader's benefit, but to make himself appear more educated. Similarly, Mark is a scion of snotty American arrogance, souring every experience with his sole fixation on getting high and laid; at one point, he even carelessly urinates on the ashes of the community's ancestors.
Midsommar embraces horror movie tropes to underscore how stupid and conceited these visiting Americans are, similar to slasher films like Halloween do. After the first gruesome ritual, the visitors react with shock and horror, and it would be expected that they would simply flee the village without a second thought. Instead, they allow another community elder to quell their disquiet with justifications for why the act had meaning to them, and the foreigners are too weak-willed to stand up to what they know instinctively to be morally reprehensible. Audiences will no doubt see this scene as a clear and unquestionable sign of more horror to come; but the complacent, entitled Americans are so convinced of their own security and/or are so conditioned to avoid actively questioning foreign customs for fear of revealing their ignorance--and in the case of Christian and his pals, are even outright numb to genuine empathy--that they remain. Signs continue to abound that there is a foulness at work among the Hårga, from increasingly bizarre ceremonies--often employing hallucinogenic drugs--to instances of guests "disappearing" from the village without a word. The sense that something horrible is always just about to happen in this seemingly halcyon retreat is reminiscent of horror movies like Ti West's The Sacrament, and makes the wide open locale feel ironically claustrophobic. There is a sly effort by the members of the Hårga to "convert" or separate the Americans from their cultural values--such as they are--in varying ways. Pelle sympathizes with Dani's grief without seeming like he is trying to seduce her, but as though he is being developed as a potential love interest to replace Christian. Christian, on the other hand, draws the eye of a girl named Maja (Isabelle Grill), who having just come of reproductive age, employs the rituals of her people to compel the already weak-willed male to mate with her. Watching Midsommar is a bit like free-falling: it never gives the audience a firm grasp on what cultural standards--those of modern civilization or the secluded Hårga--to fall back on for comfort or security; neither are spared from being flayed beneath a scrutinizing flensing knife. Instead, it proposes that people should not allow their insecurities to dictate their behavior, subsequently falling prey to dangers that should be obvious to avoid on an instinctive level.
Recommended for: Fans of a tense and anxiety-ridden horror film, one that explores the dangers of ignorance and privilege amidst warped practices posing as tradition. Midsommar is a slow burn of a horror film, rewarding patient audiences and leaving them shaken from the harrowing experience long after the movie ends.