Midsommar expands the range of film horror
Horror movies are often insights into fears we never knew we had. This is the gift of true horror auteurs. Empty hotels don’t seem too scary until you see twins holding hands. Space aliens are wondrous until they’re stalking you in a dark spaceship and threatening to lay their eggs in your chest cavity.
A barbeque full of smiling white people seems perfectly innocent unless you’re the only person of color. Horror forces us to examine the darker side of normal situations, reminding us that nothing is safe. Sometimes the call is coming from inside the house.
Last year, Ari Aster showed us the darker side of grief, already a dark subject, with his film Hereditary. Pushed by an incredible performance by Toni Collette, Hereditary was Aster’s first entry into the world of prestige horror: high quality, high production value films like Us, or The VVitch, that for whatever reason become critical darlings in an industry that has a history of dismissing horror in general.
Aster has returned this year with his second feature film, Midsommar. It maintains the high quality of Hereditary, but has a dramatically different tone. The film is far stranger, funnier, and more enjoyable by a half. While Hereditary wallowed in its misery, Midsommar revels in its brightness and the shadows it creates.
As with Hereditary, Midsommar begins with tragedy as its inciting incident. Dani (Florence Pugh) has spent the last few years leaning heavily on her boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) due to serious issues with her family, namely her bipolar sister. Christian, an anthropology student working on his doctorate, wants to break it off but can’t find the right time.
When the aforementioned tragedy strikes, he’s left between a rock and hard place. He can’t leave her during the worst time of her life but desires to be free of the difficult situations that surround her. In an effort to solve the problem, he invites her on a trip with Sweden to visit the commune of his friend Pelle and observe their celebration of the summer solstice.
He assures his friends that she won’t go, but she does nonetheless, and they begin their trek to the Hårga, Pelle’s home in central Sweden. They arrive to find the festival in full swing, with the members of the commune dressed in authentic clothing that praises both the male and female sides of nature.
It all seems innocent enough—although the artwork painted on the buildings and various sundry artifacts seems both explicitly sexual and violent and the children are playing a game called “skin the fool”. Despite this, the people are friendly and welcoming, if a little odd. In fact, everything is odd. Dani and company soon find out just how odd it is.
Strange religious rituals are ripe for the picking when it comes to horror, although more frequently it’s been rooted in either corrupted Christian dogma or darkly pagan rituals that are in direct conflict with a corrupted Christian dogma. I don’t remember seeing a pagan religion depicted so brightly and without any mention of Christianity at all. Neither is the religion seen as magic—any supernatural experiences are directly related to the teas laced with psilocybin that are plentiful throughout the village.
What Aster excels at in his films is the creation of the world. The Hårga seems real and lived in—a true culture that has evolved in sight of civilization but still far apart from it. We’re left to wonder how it manages to stay so secretive and bloody in the western world, but then we’re quickly distracted away from those thoughts by the utter strangeness on display.
Just as Hereditary is essentially a family drama, Midsommar is a breakup film. Dani and Christian are in very different places and neither is fulfilling the needs of the other. It’s this through line that gives the audience a connection to the characters, which allows the filmmakers to explore the world.
Each beat in the film can be seen as another step in the typical dissolution of a young relationship. It’s just that the consequences of these decisions are eventually very dire.
Midsommar is a beautiful film, an unsettling and strange one, and a welcome departure from any of the franchise fare out right now.