Fans of Real-Deal horror films: take note. Not schlocky gore-porn (lower-case) horror, but the legit article. In a summer that's featured plenty of tepid franchise fatigue, director Ari Aster (Hereditary) has served up something unique that (for the most part) you haven't seen before. It's also (like his previous outing) easily one of the most disturbing pictures of the year.
A couple and their grad student friends travel to a remote, pastoral Swedish village for the town's historic mid-summer festival. Dani (Florence Pugh) is on unsteady ground with her boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor), and recovering from traumatic tragedy. The beginning of Midsommar has a lot in common with Hereditary, particularly in the emphasis of grief. Midsommar also features a character in the throes of agonizing, keening grief, so painful and unflinching that it threatens to shatter the soul. Aster is particularly fond of scenes where the audience feels like they shouldn't be watching. Of lingering on shots where 99% of other directors would cut away. Often in horror and suspense, what's not seen can be more effective and unsettling than what is starkly depicted. Aster's unblinking eye doesn't exactly dare you to look away, but rather makes you feel complicit.
Beyond the setup, I'm not going into any further details as far as plot. The less you know the better - and the more unhinged the film is likely to leave you. While Midsommar is upsetting, it's also much funnier in places than I was prepared for. Aster and his cast do a great job of letting the characters reveal their lack of self-awareness as they interact with both a village of unfamiliar citizens, and each other. The dialogue is terrific. Having a cast consisting of virtually all unknowns makes it very easy to lose yourself in their circumstances with no pre-associations. Keep an eye on William Jackson Harper - that guy is going places, I'll guarantee.
Unlike most genre pictures, thanks to the Land of the Midnight Sun, much of Midsommar takes place in broad daylight, which is unnerving and surreal, and incredibly effective. There are few shadows to hide in. Production Designer Henrik Svensson has done world-class work building and decorating the village structures with a mind-blowing amount of historical, foreboding detail. Hereditary cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski lenses the serene bucolic village and its inhabitants in lush, immersive style, including the absolute best, most disorienting inverted camera I've ever experienced. There's a dreamlike quality to many of the images, and they'll likely be staying with you for longer than you might prefer. If the film sound intriguing, I'd strongly urge seeing it in the theater and not waiting for home video, as Aster and Pogozelski have crafted real cinema here that cries out to be appreciated on the big screen - if your brain can handle it.
Amidst the current marketplace, Midsommar feels powerfully original and vivid. Aster takes his time (2h 27min), letting things play out with natural, unforced eccentricity. It joins a small corner of the genre you might think of as folk horror, and owes a profound debt to Robin Hardy's 1973 The Wicker Man. It seems there's a new wave of adult horror cresting, with films like The Witch, and Jordan Peele's Get Out and Us - and Ari Aster is right at the front of the pack. A bright spot in the summer movie season that just may detach your retinas. For genre fans, highly recommended.
A couple and their grad student friends travel to a remote, pastoral Swedish village for the town's historic mid-summer festival. Dani (Florence Pugh) is on unsteady ground with her boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor), and recovering from traumatic tragedy. The beginning of Midsommar has a lot in common with Hereditary, particularly in the emphasis of grief. Midsommar also features a character in the throes of agonizing, keening grief, so painful and unflinching that it threatens to shatter the soul. Aster is particularly fond of scenes where the audience feels like they shouldn't be watching. Of lingering on shots where 99% of other directors would cut away. Often in horror and suspense, what's not seen can be more effective and unsettling than what is starkly depicted. Aster's unblinking eye doesn't exactly dare you to look away, but rather makes you feel complicit.
Beyond the setup, I'm not going into any further details as far as plot. The less you know the better - and the more unhinged the film is likely to leave you. While Midsommar is upsetting, it's also much funnier in places than I was prepared for. Aster and his cast do a great job of letting the characters reveal their lack of self-awareness as they interact with both a village of unfamiliar citizens, and each other. The dialogue is terrific. Having a cast consisting of virtually all unknowns makes it very easy to lose yourself in their circumstances with no pre-associations. Keep an eye on William Jackson Harper - that guy is going places, I'll guarantee.
Unlike most genre pictures, thanks to the Land of the Midnight Sun, much of Midsommar takes place in broad daylight, which is unnerving and surreal, and incredibly effective. There are few shadows to hide in. Production Designer Henrik Svensson has done world-class work building and decorating the village structures with a mind-blowing amount of historical, foreboding detail. Hereditary cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski lenses the serene bucolic village and its inhabitants in lush, immersive style, including the absolute best, most disorienting inverted camera I've ever experienced. There's a dreamlike quality to many of the images, and they'll likely be staying with you for longer than you might prefer. If the film sound intriguing, I'd strongly urge seeing it in the theater and not waiting for home video, as Aster and Pogozelski have crafted real cinema here that cries out to be appreciated on the big screen - if your brain can handle it.
Amidst the current marketplace, Midsommar feels powerfully original and vivid. Aster takes his time (2h 27min), letting things play out with natural, unforced eccentricity. It joins a small corner of the genre you might think of as folk horror, and owes a profound debt to Robin Hardy's 1973 The Wicker Man. It seems there's a new wave of adult horror cresting, with films like The Witch, and Jordan Peele's Get Out and Us - and Ari Aster is right at the front of the pack. A bright spot in the summer movie season that just may detach your retinas. For genre fans, highly recommended.
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