Ari Aster's Hereditary was not only one of the finest directorial debuts of the decade but a superlative, masterful horror flick that announced him as a new genre auteur for the industry to be reckoned with. His second feature follows little over a year since Toni Collette iconically screamed her way to horror history books, with Midsommar cast in the same cultish mould as that 2018 effort. This time starring Florence Pugh, Jack Reynor and Will Poulter, Midsommar explores the Swedish festival of midsummer in a daylight-infused nightmare. But, with the standards set so high, does Midsommar bask in its own sunlight?
Following a family tragedy, Dani (Pugh) joins her boyfriend (Reynor) and his friends (Poulter, William Jackson Harper) at a once-every-90-years festival midsummer festival in a secluded part of Sweden, despite their waining relationship causing discomfort. Soon realising that their surroundings may not be all they appear, the group begin to question their judgement and sanity. As with a number of high-profile, high-concept horrors of late (including Hereditary, mother! and Suspiria), Midsommar's divisive nature is bound to split audiences right down the middle and disappointingly for me, this one skews negatively.
At almost two and a half hours long, Midsommar is a long film. If you fall under its spell, you're likely to be transfixed; but if - unfortunately like myself - you find yourself slipping from its grasp as the 147 minutes tick by, you'll find yourself gradually more and more underwhelmed by this sophomore attempt. While reluctant to compare Aster's two films too extensively, Hereditary is a layered and complex family drama exploring the impact of grief; strip Midsommar down to its basic narrative and you're already working with comparatively little, having not cultivated its thematics as tightly. Dani and Christian's relationship is already on borrowed time at the stage we meet them, meaning we having nothing rooted into this relationship; a more profound insight into their turmoil would have built a clearer picture and enhanced our connection to the characters - but as it is, there's so little depth that it's impossible to feel Dani's catharism by the time the film concludes.
For my money, we get to Sweden far too early on. We're hitting the festival barely 20 minutes into the film, bizarrely rushed despite everything else taking its time (and everything *really* does take its time). Mired by a sense of inevitability, almost every beat is forseeable; while stopping short of labelling it predictable - because there are a few 'twists' plucked from the ether - the lack of subtlty, borne out of heavy-handed, tapestry-telling foreshadowing, is inescapable and you find yourself simply waiting for the predestined fates of the characters we care little for. It attempts to escalate towards a berserk, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink finale but despite a handful of wild moments (that play stronger as a comedy than a horror), you find the eventual payoff rather unsatisfying.
Although the pacing, depth of story and thematics within Midsommar's script is flawed, Ari Aster still cements his status as one of the finest directors currently in the genre wheelhouse, with his work behind the camera still rather exceptional. Visually, it's an intriuging accomplishment - baking in daylight for almost its entirety, few could pull off this rich imagery with such confidence. His framing and perspective, enhanced by cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski, is impressive, cultivating some rather disorientating moments that work in spreading an uneasiness throughout the first half; while little reaches the heights of any moment in Hereditary, his skill and talent is still abundantly clear, proving that his previous success wasn't a fluke and he really is a force to be reckoned with.
Florence Pugh is alarmingly good in the lead role, selling the anxiety-riddled Dani as believable - but she's never quite given the material to develop her as a completely magnetic protagonist. In the expertly-crafted pre-title sequence, we see the cause of her mental state, but rarely do we witness a journey beyond that, only that which is induced by the events that engulf here but never completely convince. When we need to believe a decision she makes in the film's closing moments, we don't but it's not through lack of trying on Pugh's behalf - the storytelling legwork just isn't there and the character arcs are not fully justified (on the account of the film showing the audience little before the festival), meaning it whimpers to a close.
Jack Reynor similarly commits to an underdeveloped role, and his climatic moment is certainly memorable - but the film otherwise never delivers on the promise of a beresk finale. In a way, Reynor becomes the audience's linchpin in the closing half an hour or so, but the film hasn't developed a solid stance or backstory for the character -- something which a more extensive surveilance of Dani and Christian's relationship could offer. Again, if we'd waited longer before reaching Sweden, exploring their dynamic more profoundly, perhaps we could buy into his fate more -- but in its current form, the script isn't clear on how they want the audience to feel towards him. Ambiguity is fine if you commit to it; it just seems half-baked here though.
A better comedy than it is a horror, Midsommar induces some of the heartiest laughs, borne out of awkardness, that cinema audiences have seen in some time. Will Poulter operates almost soley as comedic relief, with some uncomfortable moments providing some humorous wims and one-liners. But one cannot help but question why the comedy:horror ration wasn't more carefully balanced, with the odd tonal indiscretions and genre blurring yielding mixed results across the feature, and arguably attributing to the barely-there atmosphere work and deficient pacing.
Bobby Krilc's score is Midsommar's most effective element in trying to sustain the atmosphere, as well as some tight editing working in accordance. It is a masterful composition and collection which imbues really dread throughout a film where the tension is otherwise unsustained. That appears to be the biggest point of contention between those that liked Midsommar and those who did not: for me, the brief flashes of brilliance exhibited over the runtime struggle to colesce into something more substantial and lasting, and by the time we'd reached the mid-point, you've completely detatched: unaffected by the events unfolding. Those that Midsommar has scared are eating out of the palm of its hand at this point; the rest of us are clock-watching, waiting for the festivities to wrap up.
Unlike Jordan Peele's Us, which I was similarly underwhelmed by on my intial watch before warming to it on a subsequent revisit, there is no dying urge to ever revisit Midsommar in an attempt to fully dissect these underwhelming emotions. As of now, I'm confident in mentioning the exhausting runtime as a major cause of my dispiritedness, hindered and prolonged by weak pacing, a narrative inevitability and a surprising lack of horror: the odd, infrequent gory imagery isn't enough to sustain a 2.5 hour feature, frankly, no matter how often we cut back to it. It's not so much a bad film as one that didn't work for me at all, with the wide-spread acclaim bewildering but not completely unfounded. I hope you enjoy the festivites more than I did, but I cannot see this being a celebration I indulge in too often.
5.5/10
Summary: Poor pacing, a surprising lack of horror and an exhausting 147 minute runtime make Ari Aster's audacious, admirable yet underwhelming sophomore effort, Midsommar, an disappointing experience, despite fine cast performance, pretty visuals and a killer score.
Following a family tragedy, Dani (Pugh) joins her boyfriend (Reynor) and his friends (Poulter, William Jackson Harper) at a once-every-90-years festival midsummer festival in a secluded part of Sweden, despite their waining relationship causing discomfort. Soon realising that their surroundings may not be all they appear, the group begin to question their judgement and sanity. As with a number of high-profile, high-concept horrors of late (including Hereditary, mother! and Suspiria), Midsommar's divisive nature is bound to split audiences right down the middle and disappointingly for me, this one skews negatively.
At almost two and a half hours long, Midsommar is a long film. If you fall under its spell, you're likely to be transfixed; but if - unfortunately like myself - you find yourself slipping from its grasp as the 147 minutes tick by, you'll find yourself gradually more and more underwhelmed by this sophomore attempt. While reluctant to compare Aster's two films too extensively, Hereditary is a layered and complex family drama exploring the impact of grief; strip Midsommar down to its basic narrative and you're already working with comparatively little, having not cultivated its thematics as tightly. Dani and Christian's relationship is already on borrowed time at the stage we meet them, meaning we having nothing rooted into this relationship; a more profound insight into their turmoil would have built a clearer picture and enhanced our connection to the characters - but as it is, there's so little depth that it's impossible to feel Dani's catharism by the time the film concludes.
For my money, we get to Sweden far too early on. We're hitting the festival barely 20 minutes into the film, bizarrely rushed despite everything else taking its time (and everything *really* does take its time). Mired by a sense of inevitability, almost every beat is forseeable; while stopping short of labelling it predictable - because there are a few 'twists' plucked from the ether - the lack of subtlty, borne out of heavy-handed, tapestry-telling foreshadowing, is inescapable and you find yourself simply waiting for the predestined fates of the characters we care little for. It attempts to escalate towards a berserk, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink finale but despite a handful of wild moments (that play stronger as a comedy than a horror), you find the eventual payoff rather unsatisfying.
Although the pacing, depth of story and thematics within Midsommar's script is flawed, Ari Aster still cements his status as one of the finest directors currently in the genre wheelhouse, with his work behind the camera still rather exceptional. Visually, it's an intriuging accomplishment - baking in daylight for almost its entirety, few could pull off this rich imagery with such confidence. His framing and perspective, enhanced by cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski, is impressive, cultivating some rather disorientating moments that work in spreading an uneasiness throughout the first half; while little reaches the heights of any moment in Hereditary, his skill and talent is still abundantly clear, proving that his previous success wasn't a fluke and he really is a force to be reckoned with.
Florence Pugh is alarmingly good in the lead role, selling the anxiety-riddled Dani as believable - but she's never quite given the material to develop her as a completely magnetic protagonist. In the expertly-crafted pre-title sequence, we see the cause of her mental state, but rarely do we witness a journey beyond that, only that which is induced by the events that engulf here but never completely convince. When we need to believe a decision she makes in the film's closing moments, we don't but it's not through lack of trying on Pugh's behalf - the storytelling legwork just isn't there and the character arcs are not fully justified (on the account of the film showing the audience little before the festival), meaning it whimpers to a close.
Jack Reynor similarly commits to an underdeveloped role, and his climatic moment is certainly memorable - but the film otherwise never delivers on the promise of a beresk finale. In a way, Reynor becomes the audience's linchpin in the closing half an hour or so, but the film hasn't developed a solid stance or backstory for the character -- something which a more extensive surveilance of Dani and Christian's relationship could offer. Again, if we'd waited longer before reaching Sweden, exploring their dynamic more profoundly, perhaps we could buy into his fate more -- but in its current form, the script isn't clear on how they want the audience to feel towards him. Ambiguity is fine if you commit to it; it just seems half-baked here though.
A better comedy than it is a horror, Midsommar induces some of the heartiest laughs, borne out of awkardness, that cinema audiences have seen in some time. Will Poulter operates almost soley as comedic relief, with some uncomfortable moments providing some humorous wims and one-liners. But one cannot help but question why the comedy:horror ration wasn't more carefully balanced, with the odd tonal indiscretions and genre blurring yielding mixed results across the feature, and arguably attributing to the barely-there atmosphere work and deficient pacing.
Bobby Krilc's score is Midsommar's most effective element in trying to sustain the atmosphere, as well as some tight editing working in accordance. It is a masterful composition and collection which imbues really dread throughout a film where the tension is otherwise unsustained. That appears to be the biggest point of contention between those that liked Midsommar and those who did not: for me, the brief flashes of brilliance exhibited over the runtime struggle to colesce into something more substantial and lasting, and by the time we'd reached the mid-point, you've completely detatched: unaffected by the events unfolding. Those that Midsommar has scared are eating out of the palm of its hand at this point; the rest of us are clock-watching, waiting for the festivities to wrap up.
Unlike Jordan Peele's Us, which I was similarly underwhelmed by on my intial watch before warming to it on a subsequent revisit, there is no dying urge to ever revisit Midsommar in an attempt to fully dissect these underwhelming emotions. As of now, I'm confident in mentioning the exhausting runtime as a major cause of my dispiritedness, hindered and prolonged by weak pacing, a narrative inevitability and a surprising lack of horror: the odd, infrequent gory imagery isn't enough to sustain a 2.5 hour feature, frankly, no matter how often we cut back to it. It's not so much a bad film as one that didn't work for me at all, with the wide-spread acclaim bewildering but not completely unfounded. I hope you enjoy the festivites more than I did, but I cannot see this being a celebration I indulge in too often.
5.5/10
Summary: Poor pacing, a surprising lack of horror and an exhausting 147 minute runtime make Ari Aster's audacious, admirable yet underwhelming sophomore effort, Midsommar, an disappointing experience, despite fine cast performance, pretty visuals and a killer score.