MIDSOMMAR

THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR FORGETTING MY BIRTHDAY

★★★★★ (A Must-See)

Director: Ari Aster

2019

Midsommar’s heroine Dani (Florence Pugh) is a psychology major who needs a psychologist, a college-aged girl like many others. Even before she loses her family in a tragic murder-suicide, she’s neurotic and needy and desperately clinging to her ambivalent boyfriend like a life raft. She seems to have one friend, who only exists to be the sounding board for Dani’s complaints about the faltering relationship—a scenario wildly familiar to those of us who survived our 20s. Most women I’ve known have been a Dani (myself included), especially when we’re young and don’t know what we’re looking for in a partner. It just has to be someone, and the idea of losing that someone is a rejection of self no matter how unhealthy the relationship. When one year seems like a lifetime, it’s hard for young women like Dani to understand that the breakup will pass and better things are in the future. Life is always NOW.

Dani’s boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) is ill-equipped to handle her needs and the grief she exhibits after her family dies; the poor guy just wants to get high and hang out with his buddies while enjoying college life. These young men are aware that youth is not forever, so they’re gonna live it up and not make any permanent decisions. Not understanding that Christian has no intention of spending the next fifty years with her, clueless Dani forces herself at their gatherings, making us and the characters uncomfortable. She doesn’t know when she’s not wanted. Their end is inevitable, but what ultimately dooms the couple is not their miserable dance, where neither of them says what they feel or want, but that Christian suffers from “good guy syndrome” (a common affliction), and hates the idea of making Dani mad even though he badly wants to break up.

Unable to take a hint, Dani manages to talk her way into a trip to Sweden that Christian and his three friends have been trying to hide from her. One of the guys wants to write his thesis on a pagan commune called Hårga and their sacred ritual, which takes place once a century—a great excuse for a road trip to meet hot Swedish women. These men (including Christian) don’t want Dani there cramping their style, but she inserts herself into their good time while moping and sticking to her boyfriend like glue from the isolated patch of forest to the rustic barn where everyone in the commune sleeps. The set design in Midsommar is spectacular; IKEA white mixed with nature; wooden structures lean just enough to appear sinister, and residents—who consider one another siblings—dress like milkmaids. It’s hard for us and the characters to believe this is a cult or that anything shady is going on because everyone is so reasonable, quaint, and clean. No one talks about doomsday comets or totes guns.

This Heidi setting is deceptive enough to make the few visitors relax. Christian and his buddies don’t endear themselves to the locals or the audience because they’re the stereotypical boorish American tourists, cussing up a storm and disrespecting other’s beliefs and sacred texts. None of the communal members seem too upset, probably because there was always a plan for these foreigners—as you can imagine, cult rituals never end well for those not in the cult.

I know I’m in the minority when I say I prefer this film over Ari Aster’s Hereditary, but I’ve seen similar plot elements in Hereditary before (The Omen, Cathy’s Curse, The Conjuring). I’ve never seen anything like Midsommar, and no, I do not count The Wicker Man. Aster’s gift for torture is on full display, and the visuals are like those in a fairy tale written by the devil. To say that Midsommar stays with you days later is an understatement.

In the end, Dani’s reaction to her boyfriend’s bad behavior is so disproportionate it borders on lunacy (Christian’s not a bad guy, he’s just not that into her), but then again, she’s not in her right mind—a reason why she was targeted by the cult before she left American soil. Like MLM scams, cult members know how and when to capture the vulnerable. Dani has no family and it becomes clear, no real boyfriend, so she reaches out to whoever is standing there. Midsommar serves as a warning to never let your guard down, and ask yourself what someone wants from you. What do they have to gain? If you left this venture, would these people even talk to you again? Aster saves the most disturbing visuals for the last frames. Midsommar is as real as a National Geographic documentary, so when Dani drags her flowers across the grass like an ant queen dragging the egg sac attached to her body, you feel as though you’re not supposed to be watching. This is just another moment in the film where the imagery is too beautiful for what’s happening in the background; much like a relationship that pretends to be something it’s not.

GENRES: Atmospheric, Diverse Characters, Feminist-Friendly, Psychological

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