These are in some ways the least interesting aspects of “Midsommar,” partly because they feel like plot triggers from a more conventional horror movie. This stands in stark contrast to Mark’s testosterone-fueled idiocy and a peevish academic rivalry that develops between Christian and Josh, all of which amount to a withering assessment of contemporary American masculinity. Sex and death, sources of so much pain and anxiety elsewhere, are here tamed into collective submission. Life here is predicated on selflessness, and individual woes seem happily nonexistent. But in a more literal and provocative sense it suggests a kind of illumination, a new way of seeing.ĭani is a creature of the modern world who suddenly finds herself lost in a pagan, pre-technological one, an unsettling change of scenery that is also, in some ways, an improvement. The sunlight, disorienting and ever-present, could be a metaphor for Dani’s grief, which would be unyielding even if Christian were genuinely interested in consoling her.
The visual scheme isn’t big on explanations - what’s with the bear in the cage? - but as you study the exquisite runes and paintings, the lavish feasts and maypole dances, some of them set to Bobby Krlic’s ecstatically dissonant score, you feel swept up into a world that exists outside time. Their customs and artifacts are of great scholarly interest to Josh and Christian, and Aster and his production designer, Henrik Svensson, approach this fictional cult with their own anthropological obsessiveness. The Hårga welcome their American visitors with more politeness than warmth, allowing them to join in their celebrations but offering little warning about what each new day will bring. All-natural hallucinogens are consumed, long silences are observed and only after a while is there any shedding of blood, in a moment whose terror is held in check - and also strangely intensified - by an unmistakable sense of awe. Their hosts, known as the Hårga, wear flowers and white robes embroidered with mysterious symbols, and they go about their tasks with a ritualistic devotion that feels more serene than severe. The midnight sun bears down on a green landscape dotted with man-made structures - a pyramid-like yellow house, a Norse fertility symbol - that are at once charming and faintly sinister. And the tense group dynamics are suspended, at least at first, by the weird splendor of the gathering that awaits them - a spectacle that cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski captures in a succession of breathtakingly composed and choreographed images. In Pugh’s quietly astonishing performance, the sheer intensity of Dani’s grief, even when hidden behind a reassuring “I’m fine” smile, is palpable enough to keep the others on relatively good behavior. If you think you can guess what’s coming next - various logistical nightmares, tetchy “bros before hos” arguments that erupt into screaming matches - you are in for the first of a few carefully doled-out surprises. RELATED: Disturbed and confused by ‘Midsommar’? Let the filmmakers explain » That may sound like a letdown, but it is also a sign of Aster’s growing confidence, his willingness to push his austere, slow-burning showmanship beyond the traditional grammar of cinematic horror. “Midsommar” is as deliberate and drawn-out a picture as “Hereditary,” if also, ultimately, a less overtly frightening one. The spell that it casts is bright, dreamy and absorbing, but it is also in no particular hurry to come into focus, which makes its aftereffects all the harder to shake.Īster’s admirers will recognize his shivery command of pace and tone here, as well as a few signature formal gestures: elegantly jarring transitions, eerie dream sequences, a camera that remains alert even when it stands at a remove from the action.
Unlike Aster’s terrifying 2018 debut feature, “Hereditary,” a haunted-house tale bathed in nighttime shadows, “Midsommar” is a nightmare that unfolds in broad daylight. It is no spoiler to note that the festivities begin in beauty and end in horror - and indeed, the picture’s most ingenious and intuitive stroke is to blur the boundaries between the two. Along for the trip is a young American, Dani (Florence Pugh), who has recently endured an unspeakable tragedy and seems doomed to endure another if the rules of genre and the playful, punishing sensibility of her creator are any indication.
The setting of “Midsommar,” a luxuriant deep-tissue freakout from writer-director Ari Aster, is a picturesque commune in Hälsingland, Sweden, that is holding a nine-day celebration in observation of the summer solstice.
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