Midsommar (2019) – Movie Review
Synopsis
"Midsommar" is a 2019 psychological horror film directed by Ari Aster, who gained acclaim with his debut feature "Hereditary." The story centres around Dani (played by Florence Pugh), a young woman grappling with personal trauma following the devastating death of her family. Seeking solace and a change of scenery, she accompanies her boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) and his friends—Mark (Will Poulter) and Josh (William Jackson Harper)—to a secluded Swedish village. The trip is meant to be a summer retreat, where Christian hopes to explore the rural Swedish traditions surrounding a pagan festival that occurs once every ninety years.
As the group immerses themselves in the strange and surreal rituals of the Hårga tribe, they start to uncover a dark and sinister underbelly beneath the idyllic facade of their hosts. The film juxtaposes the eerie brightness of the sun-soaked landscapes with the horrifying events that unfold, spiralling into a nightmarish exploration of grief, cult dynamics, and the struggle for individual agency. Midsommar ultimately serves as both a deeply personal character study and a chilling horror film that forces the audience to confront the boundaries of love, pain, and belonging under the veil of a seemingly benevolent commune.
Cast of Characters
- Florence Pugh as Dani Ardor
- Jack Reynor as Christian Hughes
- Will Poulter as Mark
- William Jackson Harper as Josh
- Liv Öberg as Ulf
- Isabelle Grill as Maja
- Henrik Norlén as Ingmar
- Gunnar Tjäder as Aster
- Anna Åstrand as a Cult Member
Review
Ari Aster’s "Midsommar" has arrived with a weight of expectations following the precursor of "Hereditary," a film that redefined horror for a new generation. However, while "Hereditary" is characterised by its brooding atmosphere and claustrophobic tension, "Midsommar" opts for the audacious and the unsettling, immersing viewers in the glaring light of the Swedish summer that betrays none of its horrors until it is almost too late.
The cinematography by Pawel Pogorzelski is nothing short of stunning. The vibrant colours, breathtaking landscapes, and intricate production design provide a stark contrast to the terrifying narrative unfolding within them. In many ways, the film challenges the conventions of horror by situating its most horrific moments in broad daylight, highlighting how evil can fester in the most seemingly serene settings. The art direction captures both the beauty and the grotesque; flowers bloom vibrantly around death, signifying life springing from decay.
Florence Pugh delivers an astonishing performance as Dani, offering a raw portrayal of grief that feels tangible and real. Her arc is the film’s emotional core; the unfolding of her character’s trauma is palpable throughout, amplifying the horror as her friends become increasingly enveloped in the cult’s rituals. Pugh’s ability to express devastation and vulnerability is masterful, and her character resonates deeply, making her journey from victim to participant chillingly compelling.
Jack Reynor as Christian is adeptly portrayed as the typical millennial boyfriend, caught between his own indecisiveness and his desire for independence while tethered to his grieving partner. Observing how Christian grapples with his responsibilities towards Dani provides depth to his character—he is both sympathetic and frustratingly self-serving. His slow disenchantment with the disintegrating relationship culminates in his haunting transformation, a testament to Aster’s critique of male archetypes and their role in nurturing romantic relationships.
Will Poulter and William Jackson Harper serve as an engaging supporting cast. Mark is the embodiment of thoughtless hedonism and youthful arrogance, while Harper’s Josh serves as the rational voice, though he too eventually succumbs to the hypnotic allure of the commune. Their characters represent the varying degrees of entitlement and privilege, particularly when confronted with the underlying cultural structures of the Hårga.
Isabelle Grill, portraying Maja, introduces a complex layer of feminine manipulation into the narrative. Maja’s involvement with Dani and Christian complicates the theme of rivalry, depicting a struggle for emotional connections against the backdrop of cult ideology. The role Maja plays in Dani’s transformation into a community member further accentuates the film’s relationships and its exploration of female identity within a patriarchal breach.
The film’s pacing is masterful, and whilst it may seem slow to some viewers, Aster diligently builds a sense of anticipation and dread that culminates in an explosive finale that will leave an indelible mark. The script delves into themes of abandonment, the cyclical nature of trauma, and the notion of community in healing—though often through harrowing means.
The horror within "Midsommar" is delivered in two forms; the psychological unraveling of Dani and the shocking events resultant from the Hårga’s rituals. The film’s unsettling conclusion carries dialogues about agency, illustrating how the rejection of societal norms can lead to a horrifying freedom. This duality adds layers to the film, making it a topic of discussions long after the credits roll.
Critically, "Midsommar" also navigates the tightrope of cultural appropriation, highlighting how Western characters misinterpret and commodify the practices of a closed society. The Hårga’s culture is portrayed in a genuine context within the film, and this raises essential questions about how individuals interact with traditions that are not their own, inviting audiences to reflect on broader societal engagement with foreign cultures.
Moreover, the film’s score, composed by Bobby Krlic, plays a fundamental role in enhancing the atmosphere. The haunting melodies and discordant sounds create an auditory landscape that mirrors the eerie visuals, amplifying the disorientation that the characters—and the audience—experience. It evokes an unsettling beauty that parallels the film’s thematic concerns, leaving viewers enveloped in a sense of lingering discomfort.
In conclusion, "Midsommar" transcends conventional horror tropes to deliver a thought-provoking examination of relationships, grief, and human connection within the eerie context of a cult. Aster’s ambition in crafting a village within a daylight horror cinematic experience is impressive, making the seemingly idyllic summer setting a fertile ground for psychological turmoil. This unsettling juxtaposition creates an atmosphere that compels viewers to question the nature of community and belonging against the backdrop of horror.
For its remarkable direction, stunning visuals, and deep exploration of human emotions, I would score "Midsommar" an 8.5 out of 10. It is not a film meant for casual viewing; it demands engagement and consideration. Ari Aster has created a modern classic that will both disturb and provoke thought, ensuring its place in the canon of standout horror films in contemporary cinema.
