With their relationship in trouble, a young American couple travel to a fabled Swedish midsummer festival where a seemingly pastoral paradise transforms into a sinister, dread-soaked nightmare as the locals reveal their terrifying agenda.
Midsommar is the latest release to be written and directed by Ari Aster, who had previously created the polarizing thriller, Hereditary. While both films have the similarity of a grief-based plot device, the two films could not be any more different.
Unlike Hereditary's dark and dreary colour grading, Midsommar goes for the polar opposite, purposefully overexposing the shots, generating a blown-out, almost ethereal setting, with a myriad of white tunics, among the natural greens and colour, and the cloudless, single shade of blue sky. Another core difference between the two films is the pacing; despite Midsommar chalking in a mere ten minutes longer (approximately 140 minutes) than Hereditary, it feels significantly longer.
Much like was the case in It: Chapter Two, if you are not prepared to enjoy a long viewing (perhaps tired, sick, or having plans directly after the film), then you will find the long scenes laborious. However, while the scenes are drawn out, it adds to the atmosphere of the film. This film does contain some shocking and violently graphic scenes, and the pacing of Midsommar really allows the audience to sit and dwell on them. This is not a fast-paced horror that wants to throw jump scares at you every couple of minutes with a harsh soundtrack. Instead, you will find that Aster wants you to think about the details of the scene, the rituals and meaning behind the events. The sense of tradition that makes the ceremonies almost unceremonious as the shocking nature of them is "normal".
It is this difference in culture that brings the film to life. The most intriguing aspects are the behind-the-scenes reasons why things are the way that they are. Not necessarily what quality makes a prophet, but how the presence of those qualities is ensured. Stark differences in privacy, values, life goals, rites-of-passage, all lead to a healthy amount of natural comedy in an otherwise unnerving and unsettling situation.
Midsommar aims not to horrify you, it aims to make you feel uneasy. While the opening sequence will leave quite an emotional impact on the audience, there is nothing inherently "shocking" for nearly an hour. Everything is slow, measured, methodical, and it is something that is mirrored in the skilful cinematography; every shot and sequence holds details. In an interesting directing choice, there is more focus on the cinematography than on the actual narrative. Flipping things upside down, specific framing and selective focus that makes the audience feel like another character in the film, the use of mirrors to allow an expanded view of characters off-screen, the staging of shots is exceptionally intriguing and a thrill to watch.
This focus on the visual side includes some well-designed effects, from "breathing" flowers, to pupil dilation, and the distortion of scenes to replicate that feeling of tripping on psilocybin (magic mushrooms). There is so much to take in on a visual standpoint, that it does mean the film has a rather weak narrative. More like a Final Destination film, with the exception of the main protagonist Dani (portrayed by Florence Pugh), the characters have little development, without any real goals, and don't have any significant effect on the story. Instead, they have a role similar to that of "meat for the grinder", which has little to really draw in the audience emotionally.
Midsommar is a visually stimulating look into ritualistic pagan communities. Grief is used more as a plot device than a consistent theme, focusing more on creating a dark psychological break-up film. Again, this is not a fast-paced horror. This is unsettling, mesmerising, and perversely funny. This is Midsommar.