Midsommar (2019) – Film Review – “Sommar Lovin'”
Alright, I need two things: A drink to calm my nerves, and a blunt to help hash this whole thing out………wow, pun fully intended.
Kidding. I don’t smoke…
Out of all the psychological horror flicks A24 has helped distribute to the bleary-eyed viewing public in the last few years, this has got to be my favorite among them. It’s that typical, slow-burn premise—like last year’s Hereditary or It Comes At Night—with that weirdly-satisfying and fresh sense of agonizing tension, akin to The Witch, which is missing from modern horror smut. To me, it is essential to not only scare your audience, but have it creep up on them—terrorize us as the characters are terrorized. We learn as and what they do. This must be a journey we take together—something that shouldn’t, that can’t, fit inside a two-minute trailer…not completely. And, like ICAN, leave us guessing at the end. If the audience walks out of the theatre with the right questions in-mind, it may just bring them back for a second viewing with an impressionable friend, or cause a spark of inspiration to delve into related topics more vigorously and intelligently.
But, enough back-patting—let’s talk about Midsommar as it stands on its own.
Florence Pugh (Fighting With My Family) continues to amaze me. She’s a young, talented, and diverse actress that—I can only hope—has a long, successful career ahead of her. She is our protagonist, the one we connect with and from whose point-of-view we’re meant to witness the unfolding events. Her arc throughout this whirlwind, two-plus-hour jaunt is as disturbing as it is justified. Seeing her already-rocky relationship with Jack Reynor (Transformers: Age of Extinction)’s character continue to erode feels as grueling to us as it does to her—that whole “terrifying us as they are” thing I mentioned earlier; if we feel for these people, we’re allthemore invested in the story. I did want more from him, but my theory is that he was just written to be the straw man, jerk boyfriend…because we’re seeing all this through Pugh’s Dani.
The rest of the supporting cast, too, is good…if a bit bolted to their respective trope roles, but I think that says something about director Ari Aster’s knowledge and criticisms of the mostly-terrible horror genre, writ large. He recognizes its weaknesses, and knows how to turn them in his favor. It works. There are a surprising number of hearty chuckles in this film, thanks mostly to Will Poulter (Detroit, Black Mirror: Bandersnatch)’s perfect casting. And it’s a film that needs that, heavy as it is; brutal, yes, but again…it’s refreshing for a director to be that forward and in-your-face about certain things that other filmmakers may shy away from, just to get keisters in seats.
Obviously the only ones in the theatre on opening day—save a pair of older gentlemen below us—my friend and I had a lot of fun, riffing on some parts and choices, but experiencing genuine, chilling reactions to other things we saw. When I say, in last year’s Hereditary, that the séance scene sold me on that film, this one…this one kicked me in the ghoulies from scene one. Until the film snapped forward in time to the trip to the midsommar festival, I didn’t realize my jaw was practically on the freakin’ floor. But that’s the key! Grabbing your viewers from the get-go.
Kubrick-esque in the presentation (including an Easter egg or two for the eagle-eyed viewer), but not shying from looking downright beautiful, deceptively-bright and colorful, Midsommar’s strength is in its simplicity. Everything is pretty much laid out for us, in one panning shot, literally drawn out on a tapestry. Looking back, I can picture the creative crew grinning smugly as they put that sequence just before and after, together. It subverts our expectations, showing what is—in essence—how the rest of the film will play out…and then having the astonishing audacity to do just that.
Visually-distinctive and uncompromising in its manic tone, the score pairs beautifully with it all. I’d go as far as to argue it’s more haunting, sometimes, than what’s actually on-screen. As Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk proved, the emotion an audience feels from watching a film is largely-aural; what we hear—or, on the margins, don’t hear—can gnaw at us more than any “disturbing content” might. It’s clear Aster and his team worked close with the audio mixers and music department to create something uniquely-terrifying.
Most would call the dialogue stilted or hokey, but again, I believe it’ Aster’s attention to detail, clearly having grown up on all the trope-type horror-slashers of the “classic” era. But he, alongside others, is creating a new, “smart man’s horror” paradigm…one I hope never vanishes, so long as I’m movie-going.
Long, but not a chore, Midsommar is a feat of psychological horror filmmaking. Chock-full of entertaining elements, but managing to stay grounded and on the rails, everything up to the final, shocking crescendo is amazing. See it while you can, as most of these R-rated feasts don’t attract the ever-lucrative teenie-bopper demographic, and, thus, will be gone from cinema houses before the next big summer flick.
Actually wouldn’t be surprised if it leaves my own theatre, this coming Thursday. Anyway…
Final ‘Risk Assessment: ****/*. Nearly flawless presentation, I was firmly planted on the edge of my seat—and my sanity—for the duration. An immediate cult classic. As my viewing buddy so nicely summed it up: ‘It’s not [exactly] better than Hereditary. They’re both phenomenal movies. But I liked this one more, as it’s….slow, brooding, and everything just simmers at a base level of discomfort. No jump scares…just excellent writing, great technical aspects, and wonderful performances[.]’
Creepy as all hell, too. Getting the willies just thinking about it again…
