Written by Steven Allison
After catching wind of Ari Aster’s second feature Midsommar, I implored the deities above to use every speck of their mighty power to set him on the right path. The writer-director’s award-winning debut feature Hereditary was one of the most terrifying, disturbing, and devastating films of all time; easily finding a forever home in the horror hall of fame. But any movie critic worth their salt appreciates that newbie film-makers – especially those strutting their stuff in the horror genre – can stumble at their follow-up project. Take Babak Anvari, for instance, whose freshman film Under the Shadow completely obscured his ensuing effort Wounds. Not Aster though, succeeding in dodging the infernal sophomore jitters to produce yet another tour-de-force, and securing a place in the global horror canon.
Although initially sceptical of the idea, arguing he couldn’t see a way into the story, Aster takes his latest plot out of the U.S. and all the way to the breath-taking, balmy, rural province of Hålsingland, Sweden. There, in the small settlement of Hårga, the film-maker sets what he describes as “a breakup movie dressed in the clothes of a folk horror film.” And what a breakup movie it is; its ingenious, gruesome, and haunting premise pushing the envelope and subverting expectations even further than we could possibly have imagined. The stark, claustrophobic atmosphere of Hereditary is replaced by colour and cheer, but don’t let that fool you, for the eyes can deceive.
Aster sets Midsommar in motion with a powerful prologue, at the core of which is loss, betrayal, and tragedy. Grad student Dani (Florence Pugh) is devastated when her depressive sister commits suicide and take their parents with her. She reluctantly agrees to go on a backpacking trip to Sweden with taciturn boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) and his pals. Before tragedy struck, he’d been close to breaking up with Dani – not that she knew this though. And things have only got worse since, Christian’s friends extremely vocal about their objections to the relationship. They’re not keen on her tagging along, especially odious Mark (Will Poulter), but she believes it to be the best solution. Yet, we know better; Aster using these unsettling, dread-inducing intro scenes to wink at our soon-to-be validated pessimism.
As the plot burns gently, the group touch down in Sweden. After a trippy, shroom-fuelled night of camping, seemingly caring Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) – who develops a glaring fixation with his buddy’s girlfriend – takes them off to stay at his family’s bizarrely joyous commune for a flowery festival. It’s all new, but utterly enchanting; a sentiment shared by Pelle’s British guests Connie (Ellora Torchia) and Simon (Archie Madekwe). Mark finds himself the object of a winsome local’s affection, and fellow group member Josh (William Jackson Harper) thinks the community might just make for the perfect thesis study. Before long, the festivities are in full swing, and without warning, unthinkable rituals traumatise the outsiders. Events are explained away, and as the strange traditions continue, as the behaviour of the Swede’s gets odder, and as the visitors begin to disappear, those remaining fail to crank up the suspicion.
Midsommar is a rich, layered, and considered example of cinematographic prowess. Every shot is a visual treat, some slyly foreshadowing the bloody atrocities ahead just enough to allow fear to creep over the audience, and others happy and welcoming enough to throw our protagonists off the scent. Aster builds tension and suspense like a pro, offering satisfactory titbits one by one while leaving us shrouded in mystery and intrigue. Of course, we know something isn’t right, but by the time it’s clear a Get Out style entrapment has taken place, ensnaring the group in the guileful trap of what is nothing less than a depraved cult with nefarious intentions, it’s too late for them.
As the film sweeps ceremoniously towards it’s demented, grotesque, and almost comical closing moments, a dance to the death around the Maypole sees a surprising victor crowned May Queen. A feast follows, meat pies are munched, virgins deflowered, suffering expunged, bears donned, and fire eventually fills a curious, angular construction. It’s all exceptionally outlandish, entirely engrossing, and supported by some incredible acting. Despite the madness sandwiched between the beginning and conclusion, Midsommar brings this fable full-circle. We’re made to see it was all about Dani and Christian the whole time, even if the prologue falls a little short on setting us up to grasp this throughout – this is my only minor niggle. The end product is a near-masterpiece that’ll leave your jaw slack, skin crawling, and mind fucked.
