Midsommar (2019) | Film Review

Trigger warning: This film depicts suicide and may not be recommended for all viewers

Following the success of director Ari Aster’s most recent and notable film, Hereditary (2018), comes his newest A24 piece. Midsommar is a horror film dressed up as a relationship drama. The similarities between the two (Midsommar and Hereditary) exist, but not in the depth or likeness of horror, so don’t come into Midsommar expecting jump scares or the like. It’s an overtly bright film back dropped in Sweden’s midnight sun, but every aching moment feels like you’ll never see the light again.

The Encapsulating Story

Dani (Florence Pugh) and her boyfriend of four years, Christian (Jack Reynor – who has an alarming likeness to James Roday at times), are on the verge of their relationship ending before tragedy strikes Dani’s life. Christian’s friends – mostly Mark (Will Poulter, We’re the Millers) – seem to recognize that they have an unhealthy relationship and are adamant that he leaves her. Christian’s been wanting out for over a year now, but Dani needs him now.

Dani’s life is in constant disarray because she lives in paralyzing fear over her sister who struggles living with bi-polar disorder. This sends Dani into panic attacks regularly, and to lean on her boyfriend. Christian seems to sympathize with Dani’s pain – I guess? – but is also kind of awful at giving advice on mental illness issues. There are so many jam-packed messages from Aster in these early moments, but all play a crucial role in furthering the film’s messages. Midsommar speaks on co-dependency, toxic relationship behaviors, communication, and death– all within these 15-20 minutes of setup. These themes continue to evolve and grow as the film shifts into a much different atmosphere – yet, somehow, Aster fosters this growth without shifting the overall tone of the film.

In the midst of Dani’s life spiraling and an absolutely heartbreaking crisis that even left me in tears, Christian and his friends Mark, Josh (William Jackson Harper, The Good Place), and Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) are approaching their extended departure to Sweden. For some, it’s a trip to finalize a thesis (Josh), for others, its for smoking and finding cute ladies (Mark), and for Pelle, it’s his family’s 9-day midsummer festival – a once in a lifetime opportunity. After completely dropping the ball on even telling Dani about the trip and her finding out at a party from the guys, Christian invites her to come along. Once again, failing at any sense of proper communication, considering he never asked his friends if it’s cool he invites her first. This guy is actually the worst.

The Worst is Yet to Come

Sunshine, bliss, and some psychedelics await them, only to be met with some of the most obscure and horrific events they never could have imagined. Ari Aster is now solidifying his place as a director who relies heavily on the implications found in the context of visuals, rather than the exposition through words. If you pay close enough attention to the weird imagery, events, or other happenings, you can foreshadow, to an extent, what’s to come.

And what’s to come is disillusioning, shocking, and jarring, to say the least. But none of this would be possible without the incredibly powerful performances. Although the entire cast was wonderful, its most notable is Florence Pugh. Straight from the get-go, her implementation of this role shook me to my core, leaving me with tears streaming down my face. With such an awakening performance, she’s certainly an actress to follow.

A Director’s Touch

Aster has a unique way of elongating his film, without having a daunting run time, by taking his time with the shots in the scenes. He’ll focus in on an individual, without using reverse-shots, and then he’ll slowly pan the camera off that individual into another scenario, eventually leading up to a 3-5-minute sequence that never breaks. It’s like you’re slowly watching the proceedings unfold as if you’re there, just looking around and observing, a clever technique that Aster doesn’t abuse or annoy you with, surprisingly.

The horrors featured in Midsommer don’t exist to scare you in the sense of bumps in the night or ghost tales; these horrors are the ones that can be found in every corner of the Earth. This level of terror and dread is from the pure insanity one is witnessing, and the absolute depravity of what Aster’s mind is capable of. Every character is tested on their willingness to say no, their ability to remain open-minded, and their innate perspectives on life and death. What will they choose? What is their limit? And who will make it out alive?

The Philosophical Implications

But this isn’t a horror film with weird shit just to be weird. This is a horror film that tests its audience. As the story continues, and the pagan cult horrors progress, we’re required to take a step back from our initial impulses of ‘whoa, no, that’s not okay!’ and question what it is that makes us believe that way.

The parallels between the beginning story and the main (and ending) story work in unison to juxtapose the following: Is our method of living and dying the only way? Does the opposite mean that it’s wrong? And how do those in our society (America, at least) compare and contrast with those in other cultures in the viewing of death? We see it with grief and sadness, while others see it as celebratory.  Simply because of societal norms, or is this alternative way of thinking altruistic somehow?

You’ll probably find that your original impulsive reaction is still the correct belief for you, but that doesn’t alleviate that Aster has made you question your beliefs – even if only for a quarter of a moment.

That’s kind of the beauty of Midsommar. We get to enjoy some of the most absorbing and compelling film-making for entertainment purposes, but not without engaging our brains. This film isn’t for everyone, in fact someone in my screening left early and demanded their money back. But if you give it an opportunity, you very well could end up loving it and coming back for a second viewing.