Midsommar

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%. (02/08/2019)

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. (28/07/2019)

Horror subgenres are bound by traditions, and this applies to “folklore horror" even more. It can’t surprise anyone, if we are talking about a movie that is centred around following and respecting traditions, right? Maybe that's why not many filmmakers are eager to make something like this. Because dealing with the fact that the viewer will know “where the movie is going" is certainly not easy. You will not only know it, but you will expect it and maybe even require it. What's worse, you get into a position where you reluctantly expose your work to the  pedestal of cult classics with The Wicker Man at the top. Nevertheless, several good films in this vein have appeared in recent years. Aster's Midsommar is the best of them (although it is paradoxically closer to the new Suspiria than the original The Wicker Man (1973). After all, as with all the best horror movies, “scaring/disturbing" is just a means of looking at ordinary problems. So Midsommar is primarily a chilling psychological study of a dysfunctional relationship/breakup, and what goes hand in hand with that is the fact that this study is disturbing, unpleasant, magnificently shot, enriched with some gore effect and performed in a riveting way. (08/09/2019)

Seen extended version. And maybe it slightly worsened my impressions. The director himself says that the director's cut is more complete, but the theatrical version has a better pace. Personally, I recommend watching the theatrical version first and then the director's cut. And even though I enjoyed Midsommar a bit more last year, I will definitely continue to seek out and look forward to Ari Aster's films. I am quite curious to see if this director fully establishes himself in the production of disturbing horror films or if he will eventually try something else. For me, it would probably be unnecessary, considering how brilliantly he handles this genre, and I also wish continued success to the increasingly prominent studio A24 with their upcoming films. Florence Pugh is delightful in this, but given the situation, I was occasionally irritated by the gallons of tears, maybe next time it will be better. PS: After this movie, no one will get me on a field trip to isolated communities, unless they're a cult! (06/11/2019)

No sophomore slump this time. With his second feature film, Ari Aster confirms that in recent years there hasn’t been a more significant directorial breakthrough, at least not in the field of the darker genres. Midsommar’s atmosphere is unique, beautiful in its visuals and exciting in the portrayal of the concept of trauma, which the main character is experiencing. And mainly, it’s incredibly, truly incredibly bizarre. Rather than a second Hereditary, what we have here is some sort of perverted sunny fairy-tale, “The Wizard of Oz” for the weirdos, as Aster himself said in an interview. Why then only 4* (for the moment)? After Aster’s first film, I was probably expecting a more radical twist and a sharper horror ending. Midsommar manages to surprise in several individual moments (many of which were of course in the trailer), but as whole it goes in a fairly expected direction. The ending IS mad, but, once again, in a bizarre rather than horrifying manner. I could get over it, but, the fundamental difference with Hereditary is that this time, at least during the first viewing, I wasn’t able to relate to the character of Dani enough to fully comprehend her final mood. To get the meaning of Midsommer, it is absolutely essential that the relationship between Dani and Christian resonate with the viewer. But I was too enchanted by the pagan bizarreness around to live with the characters the crisis in their relationship. So, I hope that the half hour extended version that’s in the works won’t have much more gore, sex and nastiness, but will get deeper into that central relationship. That would work perfectly for me. (25/07/2019)