Directed by Ari Aster (Hereditary) and starring Florence Pugh
Seen in theater opening week
Non-spoiler thoughts
Midsommar is what I go to the movies to see. I don’t mean the subject matter (which I loved) or even the tone (also loved) but the direction. Within minutes, you immediately know that this movie has purpose. There’s a controlled intensity. It’s immediately an experience. Even when you don’t exactly know what is going on or why (which is often), you are in it. You’re engaged. The subject matter and set pieces are what make Midsommar notable, but it’s the execution that makes it so good. I’m not saying that every Ari Aster movie is going to be a masterpiece. There’s just too many factors needed to reach that level. But between this and last year’s Hereditary (which I liked, not loved), I’m confident that if Aster wants to, everything he makes will at least be worth checking out. He’s not messing around. There’s no errant shots. No filler. You can tell he knows, and more importantly cares, what he’s doing. And that helps you as a viewer buy into some of the more bewildering moments of his movies. It’s okay when I’m not sure what something means, because I trust that there is some sort of meaning there, or at the very least I’m being presented with a worthwhile question.
As of this second, this is my favorite film of 2019, and not for anything that can even be spoiled. This movie is wild, sure, but it’s also just flat out beautiful. Midsommar is arguably a horror film (a distinction I couldn’t care less about), and horror is often dark and dreary. Midsommar has its moments of dread and terror, but is otherwise almost excruciatingly bright. 80% of the film is in broad daylight, and the relentless brightness is dizzying and wearying. You watch these characters go through quite an experience, and part of what is so rewarding (or maybe punishing) about it is that watching the film is nearly an experience in and of itself. The use of color and negative space is often simple, but is flawlessly done. There are several shots of long dinner tables or people standing in single file that are so perfectly presented that I felt uncomfortable watching the characters try not to screw it up. It reminded me of times as a kid when I was at a fancy(ish) dinner and I needed to add something to the table but worried I would ruin the cohesion. I didn’t want my dish to be the slightly out of place one. These characters are like this. They were invited, but are they out of place?
Spoiler-y thoughts
The only thing I didn’t care for in this movie, and what’s stopping it from getting a ridiculously high score, is the use of psychedelic drugs. These scenes were shot well, of course, and are thematically in line with the rest of the story, but it did break a little bit of the spell and the fantasy of the story. When something weird happens on screen, I could otherwise wonder, “is that really happening, or is Dani slowly losing her mind?” But once mushrooms are introduced, I have to add a third option: “is she just hallucinating this?” And while a hallucination is a real thing, and would understandably have an effect on Dani’s outlook and experience, it doesn’t give me dread. Because I’m not, and will not, be on mushrooms, so I don’t need to worry about (or, since this is a movie, imagine worrying about) having this false vision myself. The story was much more powerful when Dani is experiencing these things unaltered. I can still worry that she or someone else is losing it, or possibly worse, actually witnessing these awful and outrageous things. Fortunately, the story doesn’t rely too strongly on these scenes. But the complaint is worth mentioning.
I absolutely love all the pagan mythology and tradition. I don’t want to live it, especially not now, but it’s fascinating to see play out. The maypole and the flower headdresses and the customary drinks and speeches. Before things start going wrong, you sort of want to fly out to Sweden and join the festivities. Or at least go on Wikipedia to learn more. The script is clever in getting us most of the necessary info about the commune by making most of the principle characters grad students here to collect data. Most movies have a character randomly and uncharacteristically blurt out random facts about the town’s history or an odd trait of their grandfather. How often do you tell a friend in casual conversation about some event that happened down the street 80 years ago? But here, we learn a lot about this commune in a relatively natural way: by scientists asking for the type of information a scientist would want to have. And then the very weird but very funny presentation of tradition of panning over a recently woven tapestry depicting a woman wooing a man by forcing her pubic hair and period blood into his food. This tradition would have been too goofy to have a character say out loud, and showing it through a tapestry somehow is more ridiculous and more realistic at the same time. It isn’t depicted on screen, but just imagine some older woman diligently weaving these awkward and grotesque images over several weeks.
This leads me to the other thing about this movie’s set design that can’t be praised enough. This commune felt real. The people looked like they’ve done this all before and they’ll do it all again. The buildings didn’t look like they were built 10 hours ago but 10+ years ago. The little town felt lived in. And the traditions played out like all other traditions. The elders didn’t stop and say “okay now we’re going to do blah blah blah, so everyone get XYZ ready,” they just started saying the ritual words and everyone already had XYZ ready. Because this isn’t a show, it’s their lives. On Christmas morning, I don’t explain to my family how presents work or why there’s a pine tree in the house, we just pass them out and open them. It doesn’t need to be explained because we all already know. And Dani & Co. not knowing what was happening or why allowed us to empathize with them. We don’t get it either. And the constant juxtaposition of the outsiders mixed with the commune members always keeps us uneasy. And once things start going downhill (or down cliff), the juxtaposition goes from unease to pure dread.
There’s always stuff going on in the background, because the festival is happening no matter what Dani or her group are actively participating in. So when she crosses a field to get something, we see people chopping up wooden creatures or playing flutes or standing in a creepy circle. The story exists within this event, the event doesn’t exist only when the story needs it to.
The cliff diving scene is so intense and so awful to watch. It’s amazing. The build up is exceptional. You know what is coming, so the first jump isn’t even a surprise, but that doesn’t stop it from being shocking and gruesome. So when the visiting characters flip out (unlike us, they don’t know they’re in a horror movie) you completely get it. How does your Swedish friend not warn you what is coming?
I don’t know how to feel about the ending. The boyfriend, Christian, is clearly not a good partner, and he technically cheats on her, but does he deserve this punishment? Of course not. No one deserves ritual sacrifice. And definitely not while dressed in the corpse of a bear. (But if you’re going to be sacrificed against your will, what a way to go.) So while I wasn’t rooting for Christian to die, I couldn’t help feeling weirdly gratified as Dani’s expression goes from pained to joyous. In that moment, I was just relieved that she was relieved. Before she smiles, you don’t actually know how she feels. Was she just forced to murder her boyfriend and now is stuck in this nightmare? But her smile tells you that this might not be a nightmare at all for her. Maybe she’s finally with people who appreciate her, a new family to lean on. Should I be happy for her? Should I be upset? Is she okay now? Should I worry they’re going to get away with this? The fact I don’t know these answers doesn’t hinder the movie but elevates the experience. I got out of the theater eight days ago and I can’t get this movie or these questions out of my head. Which is exactly what I want a movie to do.
One good thing: Florence Pugh is just a delight
One bad thing: The dead bodies looked very very fake, to the point that I questioned if we were supposed to wonder if this was all an elaborate trick. I don’t think I was supposed to wonder that.
Should you care? If you ever find yourself saying, “there’s no new ideas in movies anymore,” I think you are wrong.
85/100, exceptional. I already want to see it again. Would be a 90 if it wasn’t for the mushroom stuff. (To remind you of my rating scale, this is a very good score. I rarely have more than 2 movies above an 85 a year, and haven’t given a 90+ out since 2016.)
If you liked this, you might like The Wicker Man (1973). I haven’t seen the Nicholas Cage remake because I hear it’s awful. And though I probably recommend this movie too much, you can never go wrong with watching Rosemary’s Baby, another movie that only sorta is horror.
Greg Watched That 
