Midsommar

A bizarre mindfuck full of Nordic cults, precise camerawork and a tense atmosphere that gradually builds into an unadulterated inferno. The depiction of violence and murder doesn't matter, on the contrary it is fresh, crisply shot and at times very intense with the help of the music and the skill of the filmmakers. An interesting mix of dark relationship drama, set in even darker interiors and exteriors (the first half), where everyone finds their own thing about both protagonists, and an over-lit feast for the eyes, where everyone is nice before the murders begin. Paradoxically, while the relationship drama has power and tends to emerge from the darkness, the seemingly positive, lavishly photographed natural scenery of the wilderness is full of light, but here the adage that it’s darkest under the candlestick is doubly true. Bold filmmaking that hasn't been here in such a form and with such a unique directorial style for a long time. (06/28/2020)

A convincing example that goosebumps can appear on a viewer even watching a film that takes place mostly during the day. Ari Aster has all the hints or mythological connections thoroughly thought out, symbolism plays a leading role, and Florence Pugh is perfectly persuasive in intertwining her civilian life with mental difficulties. However, this Midsommar lasts disproportionately long, the few twists, though suggestive and disturbing, can be seen from miles away – and then there's the last half hour. Specific, striking, unique, but above all, overdone. I've been thinking about it for quite a while, but I still can't take it seriously. I understand what and why is happening during the rituals, but a figurative boundary is crossed with every moan from the group. (06/17/2021)

There are only a few horror genre directors worth buying a movie ticket for, and Ari Aster convinced me with his debut last year that he belongs to this select group. While watching Hereditary, I had the impression that the director gradually went astray and the result did not correspond to the possibilities, but with his second attempt, he hit the bullseye. Ari created an incredibly polished genre film that, in my opinion, will deeply divide not only the audience but also the critics. It is a film that goes against genre conventions and fan expectations. Do not expect typical jump scares, dynamic editing, sudden camera movements, ghosts, and blood splatters everywhere you look. For the average viewer, Midsommar will probably be too slow and frustratingly ineffective. Others, on the other hand, will encounter emotional barriers. Midsommar goes against audience expectations and needs, and it will unpleasantly attack your psyche. Aster questions the ethical norms derived from Christianity and enlightenment, returning us to the time of pagan cults, shamanism, and mysticism. He turns our value system upside down and shows us people willing to die voluntarily, as well as kill others without remorse because earthly existence is just a preparation for the afterlife, where death signifies mere metamorphosis into a higher sphere. Similarly, the depiction of the sexual act is unpleasant and significantly contrasts with current film trends. The director tests our limits of emotional endurance. He plays with open cards, he is predictable, but at the same time, he builds his game with the viewer. Carefully, he strains us with how far we are willing to go. Aster's direction primarily works with contrasts. The color white is usually a symbol of innocence, but here it evokes an evil premonition. The sun, a symbol of life, brings only ruin. Pleasing scenes hide horrifying content. Aster works his magic with the camera and skillfully mixes music, just like Lynch used to do. He relies on an unknown but flawlessly functioning cast, of which Florence Pugh, above all, will likely become a rising star of the film scene. The result is a film that pushes the boundaries of the genre. Surprisingly, no one thought to explore this highly interesting sphere, except for Robin Hardy's The Wicker Man (which lacks filmmaking precision). Overall impression: 90%. (08/02/2019)

Is it a horror film or is it not a horror film? The short answer is yes and it is damn good. For the long answer, we must first define what a horror film is. Horror movies are not made up of scares (the best ones do not have any at all) or the supernatural (a full range of great horror movies get by without it), and even gory scenes are not unconditionally necessary (as Poltergeist shows). When we come to the full essence, we reach two parallel paths, where one follows the effects on the audience and the other the internal principles of storytelling. On the first path, together with the greats of film criticism and theory, we find that horror is a genre that evokes intense responses in viewers in accordance with the depicted scenes. Linda Williams’s legendary essay likens horror to porn and melodrama, where viewers also observe certain situations that are supposed to elicit their directly proportionate physical response in relation to a given bodily fluid (blood, semen, tears). On the other path into the inner workings of horror stories, we can get to the very essence of horror, which consists in the fact that certain elements penetrate the characters’ inner or outer world, disrupting their deep-rooted values and certainties, which suddenly cease to be valid and the characters have to come to terms with that. The intrusive element may be a serial killer who turns a peaceful suburb into a nightmare or ghosts who turn the characters’ home into a place of life-threatening danger. Besides all manner of classic horror movies, both of these stripped-down definitions can also apply to films that are otherwise assigned to absolutely different categories, from brilliantly disturbing thrillers such as The Hitcher to Ingmar Bergman’s agonising psychological dramas, particularly Persona and Cries and Whispers. Ari Aster took a similar path, whereupon he shot one of the most physically intense and most suggestive horror films of recent years, which thoroughly disturbs the audience by confronting it with a world where completely different values apply and where the most frightening thing happens in broad daylight and inside the main character. Furthermore, Midsommar has phenomenal camera work and dramaturgy, reinforcing the concise vision. After Jordan Peel, we have another significantly distinctive talent who shows us that horror does not have a single universal form, but can rather be a space for original creative realisation. (07/28/2019)

Midsommar is a film that will best serve people who are seeking inspiration for a very spectacular way to break up. Aster again lags behind his own ambitions. Midsommar ostentatiously gives the impression that it wants to be an essential contribution to the horror genre. However, the long runtime, slowness and seriousness emanating from the grandiose filming of everyday scenes (camera crane FTW!) and the coldly methodical, mechanically timed editing do not guarantee great depth of thought or psychology (the comparison with Bergman, who did not pretend to be enigmatic, is laughable). When you shoot a psychological horror movie and let the actors ham it up and the characters behave like idiots who do not mind the fact that people are disappearing around them, you pull the rug out from under yourself. In the final third of the film, it is as if Aster is so attached to his effort to build tension that he completely forgets to develop the banal, straightforwardly told story and to concern himself with whether the characters’ actions are consistent. Though noteworthy from an anthropological point of view and nourishing for interpretive adventurers, the attempt to pound into our head with every shot the fact that something scary is about to happen (which is paradoxically less effective than subtler hints would be) and that we are watching a tremendously sophisticated horror film becomes increasingly annoying as the minutes drag by. I could much better imagine Midsommar as a musical comedy (it is actually not far from being just that, though not intentionally) about a group of doped-up flower children singing and dancing in a meadow, wearing animal costumes and familiarising themselves with a foreign culture and cuisine, including, among other things, meat pie with baked female pubic hair. Ari Aster is not a bad director and he knows how to create a dense atmosphere in individual scenes. He would just be better served by considering what is enough. 70% (07/25/2019)