Midsommar: Unsettling, distressing and cathartic
This new movie features some of the most distressing things committed to film. Once you see it, it’ll forever be seared into your brain.
There’s every chance you haven’t even yet recovered from Hereditary, unable to banish THAT image of Toni Collette from your mind.
So while you’re still low-key palpitating from last year’s terrifying venture, its director Ari Aster has returned with another distressingly uncomfortable horror film, Midsommar.
Like Hereditary, Ari Aster uses suspense and dread to keep you deeply anxious the entire length of Midsommar. Midsommar also features some of the most horrific imagery you will see this year.
There are things, once seen you can’t unsee, no matter how much you wish you could.
But unlike Hereditary, it’s doesn’t overwhelm you in the last 40 minutes with a never-ending cavalcade of bone-chilling, visceral action. On that measure, at least on the surface, Midsommar isn’t as “scary” as Hereditary, but in many ways, it’s more confronting.
Dani (Florence Pugh) is an American college student in a relationship with Christian (Jack Reynor). Christian isn’t that keen on the needy Dani anymore, and his friends, including Mark (Will Poulter) encourages him to end it.
But when Dani suffers an unbearable family tragedy, Christian knows he can’t break up with her.
Several months later, Christian reluctantly invites Dani along on summer holidays with his friends Mark, Josh (William Jackson Harper) and Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren), not thinking she would accept.
The four Americans accompany exchange student Pelle back to his home Harga, a commune among the pristine, gorgeous and flower-strewn fields of Sweden. Pelle is excited for his friends to take part in his community’s nine-day midsummer festival, especially this year which features special rituals that take place only once every 90 years.
As they arrive at the “yodelling farm”, they meet the scores of commune members and two British students, Simon (Archie Madekwe) and Connie (Ellora Torchia), friends one of the other returning Swedes has brought home.
Josh and Christian, both anthropology students, see an opportunity to study the commune’s traditions and practices.
The commune, with its white folk outfits, smiling faces and clear skin and wooden crafts is plastered with intricate, hand-drawn pictures of its history, faith and stories. But look at those pictures, with its childlike tenor and optimism, for more than a fleeting second and it’ll tell a different story.
Because, of course, the commune is really a pagan cult and Midsommar descends into folk-horror territory where the seemingly benign take on a sinister edge.
Almost 80 per cent of Aster’s film is saturated in bright light, the sun beaming down from overhead and reflected off the radiant surfaces of Harga’s surrounds.
The choice to light Midsommar in that way is in contrast to most horror movies where threats lurk in the shadows. But no matter how shiny and exposed everything seems to be, that sense of unease will never leave you.
The reverse is true for the Americans, there’s nowhere to hide in the glare.
Aster doesn’t believe in cheap jump scares, you’ll always see the horrors he’s about to unleash, that apprehension slowly creeping up, extending the visceral, stomach-churning experience.
That kind of approach to horror filmmaking seeps into your subconsciousness with great effect, lingering like an uninvited guest.
Aster is also a gifted visual storyteller. He sets up stunningly beautiful shots, from close-ups of Pugh’s expressive face to static wide shots — every frame is a delight to feast on, prompting you to lean forward instead of slinking back into your seat, cowering in fear.
Well, delightful is a loosely used term here — can you find something so unsettling delightful?
Pugh continues to impress with every role she inhabits, ever since she broke out with Lady Macbeth some two years ago. As Dani, she can plunge into depths of despair that is both repulsive and magnetic. This is not an actor from whom you can look away.
Reynor is also wonderful as Christian, and he’s called on to participate in some bonkers stuff, which we certainly won’t spoil here.
Midsommar opens with a frame of those folk drawings before they’re pulled back like curtains on a stage, and it points to Aster’s pageantry.
He’s put on this show, a story of ritual, liminality and the roles we play within that framework. And as much as some elements of Midsommar’s story, characterisation or pacing doesn’t work as well as Aster’s technical prowess, the film still functions as a fable or dark fairytale.
The best stories have a “lesson” to be learnt. Whether that’s Aster’s thoughts on catharsis (and he’s said Midsommar is ultimately a break up movie), collective pain, community responsibility versus individual value, or connections, this is a movie that will make you confront yourself and your emotional fears.
Rating: 4/5
Midsommar is in cinemas from today
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