Midsommar

Looking out my window you wouldn’t know that we’re fast approaching summer. Currently it’s cold, grey and miserable – a bit like me – and with today’s announcement that Glasgow is to remain in tier 3, I can’t even escape to the pub or cinema to try and cheer up. 

Bar the few randomly glorious days we had last month, things have been consistently pretty dreary, which may have subliminally influenced my viewing choices into selecting something bright and summery (albeit only visually and not remotely in subject matter). 

Midsommar

Director : Ari Aster

I have watched Midsommar a few times now – catching it initially at the cinema before purchasing it on DVD. When I heard of the release of the Directors Cut, I knew I had to see it. Currently – the Director’s Cut isn’t available to stream in the UK, instead only available through purchase of the DVD – but it’s worth it.

Ari Aster may be a relatively new voice in horror, but between Midsommar and his preceding directorial debut of ‘Hereditary’ in 2018 – he has definitely made genre fans sit up and listen.

Midsommar follows young couple Dani and Christian as they travel to Sweden to experience a summer festival in a remote village following the death of Dani’s family. Dani – consumed by grief and trying to cling to what remains of a failing relationship – embeds herself within the culture of the Hårga people as they gradually reveal some of their more unusual customs. 

Whilst I wouldn’t say there’s anything missing from the theatrical version, the Directors Cut digs a little deeper – providing more context to the relationship between Dani and Christian whilst expanding on the belief and rituals of the Hårga. 

Throughout Midsommar – seasons are used as a artistic choice to reflect the tone of scenes. The film begins during a harsh winter as Dani experiences the trauma and darkness of the death of her family. 

One thing that really stuck with me from Midsommar it is the absolute haunting wails of Florence Pugh as she learns of the death of her family. Her guttural cries are deep and violent as her overwhelming pain consumes her, power Florence carries throughout as she consistently delivers the extremes of her emotion and trauma. It seems unlikely to be coincidence that her characters surname is Ardor – a word of passion that comes from the latin for fire – which at the films conclusion seems even more pertinent. The intensity of her performance is similar to that of Toni Collette’s within Hereditary and Asters use of emotion is as powerful as driving the narrative and connection as any dialogue or event – if not more. 

Like Hereditary, there are a lot of subtleties in Midsommar that you may not necessarily notice during an initial viewing. The occasional glance or phrasing that makes you question a character’s intentions or the meaning of a seemingly innocuous scene. One such question for me was in the form of the character of Pelle – the friend who initially invites the group to his commune. Whilst Christian’s friends are distinctly cool with Dani, kind spirited Pelle is friendly and attentive, and whilst this could be simply because he is a good guy – a sketch of Dani with flowers in her hair raises the question as to whether he had perhaps always intended that Dani would accompany them.

Even the relationship between Dani and Christian has a distinct chill – the cracks visible from the offset. Whilst the theatrical release portrays Christian as an inattentive boyfriend, held seemingly solely by moral obligation given her recent bereavement, the directors cut expands on the depths of his disconnect and shows a side to Christian that I don’t feel is explored in the theatrical cut. A cut scene depicts his gaslighting behaviour in a way that I think shifts the tone slightly, and would overall make Dani a more likeable character to the audience. 

In saying that, I didn’t dislike Dani as a character and was actually quite surprised to find so many people did – referring to Midsommar as a film with no likeable characters whatsoever. Yes, she’s flawed and she’s emotional, but if anything that made me like her more – because she felt real. 

During the time the group are with the Hårga community, time is confusing and non linear, with very little marking the passing of days. The location rarely seems to get dark and helps to build a sense of alienation within the group. A sense of vulnerability is exacerbated by the frequency in which the locals speak in Swedish – and no subtitles are provided for the audience, so we share the feeling of uncertainty as events develop. 

The Hårga introduce the group to their rituals and beliefs with references to elements common in Pagan belief systems such as the frequent depictions of runes. Whilst Dani embraces involvement in the local customs, Christian seems unsure, unable to find his place in the traditions – and again it seems that characters names can metaphorically reflect their narrative.

Midsommar has a lot of interesting, artistic metaphor – another example detailed in the life cycle of the Hårga people which seems to reflect Dani’s personal evolution throughout the film. Linking the changes of seasons to significant periods within a persons life, Pelle refers to ‘summer’ marking the beginning of an individuals pilgrimage.

The word pilgrimage itself is defined as “a journey, often into an unknown or foreign place, where a person goes in search of new or expanded meaning about their self, others, nature, or a higher good, through the experience” – a definition that seems to perfectly encompass Dani’s experience. 

Summer is followed by Fall – which Pelle states ‘is the time for labour’, and appropriately as Midsommar draws to its conclusion – Dani is crowned May Queen. Having endured her grief, she has come out of the other side – her slight smile in the final moments symbolising the end of summer. 

Whilst Dani may have been alone at the beginning of the film, having lost her family and to all intents and purposes her relationship, by the end she has found a new family – a sisterhood.The Hårga women, and subsequently Dani, literally feel together – sharing and embracing their pain and power in sync in a haunting display of solidarity. 

There is a scene where Dani, overcome with emotion breaks down — and the crowd of women cry with her, moving in sync like they are one. Whilst there is something bizarrely unnerving about the scene, it is also strangely comforting – and this is a feeling that crops up again and again during Midsommar.

The beautiful landscapes and feel good elements act to draw a stark contrast between the intermittent horror of the movie. The lack of overt horror makes the jumping scene seem even more gruesome – and those with a keen eye will have noted the subtle shadow of Dani’s sisters dying moments hidden laced into other scenes – out of sight but present, much like Dani’s grief.

Midsommar is a really compelling folk horror with a lot to unpack and some really strong performances from the leading cast. 

Something that’s notable in both Midsommar and Hereditary is how real the characters feel, as Aster doesn’t attempt to make faultless, glamorous protagonists – instead depicting raw, flawed humans. No one is entirely good and no one is entirely evil. Good people can do bad things, and despite how things progress – I found it hard to see the Hårga themselves as an entirely evil entity.

It’s an uncomfortable reality of life, and may be another reason that Aster’s work seems to get under your skin in a way that seems so different to other horror films today.