Midsommar (2019) - Movie Review

It’s gotten to the point where I take my extended hobby of film critique so seriously that I’ve come to regard films I'm not able to nail down from a single viewing as films that bested me. That defeated me. That managed to break my usual one-and-down reviewing format and took me a second viewing to understand the kind of genius I'm dealing with. Ari Aster's Hereditary is one of those films for me.

It is seriously one of the best horror films of all time, and one I retroactively consider to be in the top 5 for the best films of 2019. It admittedly took a certain YouTuber’s hot take for me to properly get my head around it (link here for said hot take; she explains it far better than I can), but it also turned into a rather humbling experience overall. I don’t plan on making the same mistake twice, however, so as I take a look at Ari Aster’s follow-up, I’m going to give it its full due.

Essentially, this film sets itself up as a slasher flick for audiences who liked The Wicker Man (the original, not the meme-tastic remake). It’s the latest in a rare breed of Pagan folk horror, and as far as aesthetic goes, it is mesmerisingly weird. The intoxicating effects generated by Pawel Pogorzelski’s long-take camera work, Lucian Johnston’s abrupt and startling edits, and Bobby Krlic’s soundtrack that combines folk music with screeching treble and throbbing electronic basslines, end up layered on top of each other to create one of the more truly psychedelic films I’ve covered on here. Right down to the depictions of tripping on mushrooms, which are relatively subtle in how the audio and visual distortions are realised but that just makes them all the more unnerving.

As for the slasher side of things, this premise should sound familiar: A group of students are invited to a rural community to engage in some seasonal festivities, only for them to get picked off one by one over the course of their ‘vacation’. Said students tick a few of the boxes for the Ugly American Travelogue, right down to Will Poulter’s Mark literally pissing off the locals by urinating on a sacred tree. He would have a bright future as the captain of the NX-01 if not for what ultimately becomes of him. Same with Jack Reynor and William Jackson Harper as Christian and Josh respectively, two anthropology students who want to write a thesis on the commune and its practices. Knowing how secrecy and wanting to keep to themselves plays out with these kinds of films, you can imagine how well that turns out.

And then there’s Dani… poor, poor Dani. I’ll admit that I walked away from Lady Macbeth not being too jazzed about Florence Pugh's acting ability, but here, I am absolutely floored by what we get. Starting out on a rather intense note as Aster’s trademark use of familial trauma rears its ugly head, she ends up serving as one of the most brutal and heart-breaking depictions of trauma I think I’ve ever seen. The way that seemingly-innocuous things end up triggering her (in the actual sense, not the edgelord ‘ha-ha because you actually care’ sense), the need to process what happened and what she lost, and how that plays into Aster’s style of self-actualisation through bugfuck insanity really gives this an edge. Like, a major edge, to the point where I can easily see some audiences not being able to sit through the whole thing.

So, is this simply a Pagan slasher movie? Well, by the director’s own admission, not really. The idea started with Aster being approached to make a slasher film set in Sweden, but that’s not ultimately what this is about. The visual and aural aesthetic plays into the major themes, definitely, but said major themes are actually a lot more confronting than anything to do with cults or inbred oracles or blood eagles.

Rather, this is a story about an abusive relationship, the one between Dani and Christian. They were on the verge of breaking up when the tragedy happened, almost forcing them to stay together, and as we see them interact within the commune, their relationship looks like a lot of overbearing control. Christian is someone who believes in convenient relationships, only sticking around for as long as he can get away with it. When his friends start disappearing, he's pretty quick to cut any association with them. And Dani, whether it’s down to her boyfriend’s control over her, her own traumatised state, or both, blames herself for every bit of neglect and pressure he and his friends inflict on her.

The frequent use of mirrors throughout to expand the scope of the long takes adds to the character’s need for self-reflection, to come to terms with her grief, her trauma, her fear of losing anyone else, and to overcome it. Death is understood as just another part of life within the commune, with the changing seasons as the transitions of life’s path. But separation, especially from someone you’ve grown attached to, can be its own form of mourning; mourning the connection, the life, that you used to have together. It’s an exaggeration of the reality, admittedly, but through Ari Aster’s framing and overwhelming sense of atmosphere, it becomes tremendous thematic short-hand for how some relationships, some connections, need to be broken.

I’m not going to go too far up my own arse and say that what I’ve just written up here is the be-all-end-all for analysing this film, but considering my past difficulties with this director, I didn't want to leave anything to chance on this. And even if all of that turns out to be utter gibberish, that doesn’t change the fact that this movie fucking rocks. It’s a brilliant horror flick, a serious testament to Ari Aster’s skills as a cinematic storyteller, and the ideal break-up movie for those with more subversive tastes.