Being from a working class family, a trip to the cinema was treated as a prestigious event. Nowadays, prices have been cut and special offers introduced to regain the audience lost to streaming services, but the cost still remains expensive. Therefore, when I say I’ve seen a film twice at the cinema, there must be something of significant value for me to behold. Midsommar is on that exclusive list.
Following the critical and box office success of Hereditary, Midsommar is the second collaboration between entertainment company A24 and writer/director Ari Aster. Released in July 2019, Florence Pugh’s second film of the year has her starring as Dani, a psychology student who suffers a traumatic family loss. When making a rare appearance at a party months after the incident, she discovers that her distant anthropology student boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) and his friends Josh, Mark and Pelle (William Jackson Harper, Will Poulter and Vilhelm Blomgren respectively) are going to Sweden for the Midsommar festival. With the secret out, Christian reluctantly invites Dani and they travel to the discrete Scandinavian commune Hårga. However, the friction of a new place, increasingly questionable traditions, and disappearing tourists exacerbates tension within an already strained group.
At face value, Midsommar is presented as a psychedelic horror. The introduction of magic mushrooms on arrival to Sweden sets the precedent for what hopes to be a relaxing holiday. Yet, there is also a pressure for Dani to participate, opening up the opportunity for bad trips and nightmares. Combine this with the self-sacrifice scene (still horrifying after each watch, the anticipation only makes it worse), it’s understandable the sudden urge to leave Hårga. Moments of violence are surprisingly few and far between but, when they do happen, the force is impactful. Each sound is swift and blunt like it’s winding you, and there’s no expense spared from the gory graphic details.
As processions continue, the drugs aren’t the only concern for consumption. Food appears to be rotting (where does that dog at the start go?) and there’s more to the drinks than what appears to be cloudy lemonade. Yet, our main characters stop questioning things as they fall further down the rabbit hole and we become suckered into this alien community alongside them. We’re hypnotised by the bright and vibrant wavy patterns which melt onto the screen seamlessly, with mesmerising colours graded outstandingly. The satisfying framing of many shots are tinged with a Wes Anderson vibe, complimented by tailor-made uniforms and symmetrical structures built by crew on location in Hungary. Even transition shots run smoothly between locations, grabbing my full attention throughout.
Underlying this creepy drug-fuelled picture is a relationship drama born from Aster’s own break-up. Dani’s pain is accentuated by the lack of support she receives from Christian. Confrontation for his deceit turns to manipulation and gaslighting, using further microaggressions to warp his friends’ perceptions of her too. These tactics are then used against said friends when conflicts arise on their trip, turning Christian into a fantastic antagonist despite not being involved in any of the grisly stuff. On the other hand, Dani’s arc of realising her boyfriend’s toxic traits and finding coping mechanisms for grief requires more commitment to Hårga’s way of life, creating a complex and nuanced journey wedging the couple apart.
These nuances are also attributed to the supporting cast. Josh and Mark could easily be boiled down to stereotypes but are given room to flesh out their characters too. They are portrayed as assholes as we perceive them through Dani, but contextually many people can relate to the frustration of your friend stuck in a harmful relationship. Digging deeper, even individual commune members develop personalities and occasionally steal the scene. Altogether though, this is a rare occurrence considering how superb Pugh’s acting is. Her range covers such deep, raw emotions that powerfully translate from the screen instantly.
Supplementing all of this is Aster’s directions. I have already discussed the hands-on approach and framing of shots, but I also need to mention the intricate detailing of each scene. Body language relating to how Dani and Christian move determines the power dynamic currently on display, a small but fantastic action that I appreciate. There’s some foreshadowing that is obvious, literally laid out in front of you, but also plenty littered around to be found on rewatches. Ultimately, this is what tips Midsommar into elite horror and why it was so important to have spent thirty quid total watching it so many times.