Warning: spoilers lie within.
- On the director’s cut: My sense is the longer cut is the way to go. I didn’t see the original theatrical cut because I knew that it was much shorter than Aster’s preferred cut and I wanted my first experience of the movie to be of the more authoritative version. The director’s cut includes more scenes that give us a sense of Christian and Dani’s relationship and more depictions of rituals that aren’t integral to the main narrative. The one element of the director’s cut that I could see a case for cutting would be some of the thesis material, but my sister-in-law Izzy makes the point that this is the one place where the movie gets into racial themes and it does a lot to establish Christian’s entitled white guy douchiness. The other question is pacing. I can’t attest to the way the pacing feels in the shorter cut but I don’t expect that the movie would benefit from trimming down. One of the most interesting things about the movie is the way it pushes the classic slow burn horror arc past its traditional scope (see below). I think the longer runtime is crucial here.
- On “elevated horror”: Some of the most hardcore horror fans whose opinions I follow love to shit on A24 horror releases. I totally understand where they are coming from, but I think that each movie deserves a fair shake. A24 tends to release some of my favorite movies and some of my least favorite movies every year, without too much in the middle. The bad stuff wouldn’t be so infuriating if all the hipster critics didn’t wet their pants over it and throw around phrases like “elevated horror.” Here’s a tip: if you ever see that phrase being used unironically, ignore the author’s views. The problem is the presumption that horror needed to be elevated. The sorts of themes that these “elevated” indie horror movies bring to the surface are already there in the subtext of reams and reams of unpretentious genre movies. There are vast numbers of haunted house movies that are about grief, trauma, abuse, and family secrets, for instance. They typically address these themes in subtle ways, keeping the outward focus on the horror action. “Elevated horror” movies take a heavy hand to what was already there. They turn the subtext into text. Critics who throw the phrase “elevated horror” around (think Indiewire) don’t actually like horror, and they praise A24 releases at the expense of the genre. They say things like, “this isn’t just a horror movie, this is a piercing study of grief and trauma.” Horror fans want to say: “fuck you, horror doesn’t need all this indie film festival bullshit to be a piercing study of grief and trauma, you just don’t know how to watch a horror movie.” That said, I think Midsommar is far from elevated bullshit like The Babadook. It’s a horror movie to its bones. I liked Aster’s previous movie, Hereditary, but I didn’t love it. That movie mushes together a prestige drama and a bargain basement haunted house movie somewhere between Paranormal Activity and The Conjuring, with a Rosemary’s Baby ending tacked on. I was concerned when I saw the long runtime of Midsommer that he was giving us a feature length prestige drama conjoined with a feature length horror movie. Nope! The extra length is devoted to the slow burn. It’s a movie with broad connections to the history of the genre, coming from a place of love and admiration, rather than the sort of condescension that characterizes the worst examples of “elevated horror.”
- There’s a beautiful and perfect Texas Chainsaw Massacre nod that announces the beginning of the final act. It’s the scene where Josh sneaks into the forbidden temple to photograph the forbidden book. His grisly demise closely echos the first kill from Texas Chainsaw: Notice the mask of human skin, the smash, the squeals, the dragging. It’s unmistakable. Aster knows that any serious horror fan will catch this reference, and to me it felt like a warm reassurance: “This right here is a horror movie, buckle up.”
- There are two respects in which Midsommar is notably original: the three-hour scale and the aggressive brightness of the cinematography. There aren’t many horror movies where most of the action takes place in sunlight. The Wicker Man is the most obvious point of comparison (in many respects), but Midsommar not only takes place in sunlight, it is one of the brightest movies I’ve ever seen. It is the inversion of the neglected vampire gem 30 Days of Night, which takes place in Northern Alaska during the winter solstice.
- Midsommar connects with three venerable horror traditions: folk horror, the Italian Cannibal movie, and the slow burn. Folk horror– horror based on dark folklore–is most closely associated with late 60’s-early 70’s British films like Witchfinder General, Blood on Satan’s Claw, and of course The Wicker Man. We’ve seen a resurgence of interest in the subgenre in recent years, with titles like The Witch, Hagazussa, and The Curse of La Llorona. Midsommar has a high degree of continuity with the British classics, but also pushes the subgenre in new directions. Most notably, it fuses folk horror with the Italian Cannibal movie. Italian Cannibal movies typically depict a group of westerners– usually anthropologists and/or resource exploiting capitalists– journeying into the heart of the jungle to the territory of an uncontacted tribe, where they both brutalize and are brutalized by the tribe’s members. On the way in, the westerners romanticize the tribe. The typical end result is the ceremonial slaughter and consumption of any westerners who are still alive. By this point, the westerners have perpetrated enough atrocities on the tribe that it’s a pleasure to see them eaten. The theme of these movies is that civilization is a way of institutionalizing rather than transcending violence. Civilizations that imagine themselves more developed are really just more developed in their savagery. There have been two recent titles that revive the Italian Cannibal movie: Eli Roth’s The Green Inferno and S. Craig Zahler’s Bone Tomahawk. The former is a pretty classic rendition while the latter fuses the Italian Cannibal movie with the Western. Both of these movies more-or-less flew under the radar, but can you just imagine how the hot take brigade would react to a proper Italian Cannibal movie making it to the mainstream? There is no question that the racial politics of these movies is vexed (not to mention the gender politics) but the genre has much to offer and deserves rehabilitation. I think Aster’s solution is genius: make the tribe the whitest people in the world! This racial shift and the corresponding gender inversion of the sexual violence give Aster space to make an Italian Cannibal movie for the age of the woke take. The main point of reference is definitely The Wicker Man, but Italian Cannibal movies like Cannibal Holocaust are a close second. And then there’s the slow burn. This is a 60’s and 70’s tradition and the paradigmatic example is Rosemary’s Baby, but we have seen some excellent slow burns in recent years, my favorites being Rob Zombie’s Lords of Salem and Ti West’s House of the Devil. The art of the slow burn is to stretch the crescendo out as far as possible and escalate the tension until it becomes unbearable and ultimately explodes into a frenzied catharsis. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a slow burn quite at the scale of the director’s cut of Midsommar. The closest thing I can think of is Polanski’s The Ninth Gate. By the time the movie really shows its teeth (the Texas Chainsaw scene!), half of the protagonists are already dead. And then you couldn’t ask for a more frenzied catharsis *Italian chef kiss*.
- The score is straight fire, courtesy of Haxan Cloak. There have been some worrisome trends in horror scores. Namely: scores that are not creepy or scary. That Thom Yorke Suspiria score is one of the worst damn horror scores I can think of. More of this, less of that, please.
- I don’t even know how many cinematic representations of drug-induced hallucinations I’ve seen in my life and this is literally the only movie I can think of that effectively captures what drug-induced hallucinations are actually like. The persistent use of these excellent effects helps the viewer to become immersed in Dani’s state of mind, which for me greatly enhanced both the buildup of tension and the visceral release of the climax.
- Thank you for the ambiguous City Lights ending. There are still bits and pieces of immaturity (Gaspar Noé has ruined the upside-down shot and I wish everyone would refrain from using it for a good long while), but Aster has come a long way from Hereditary. Rather than giving us both a disappointingly literal prestige drama and a horror movie like he did in Hereditary, he’s just given us an excellent horror movie that lets the audience draw connections for ourselves between the opening sequence with Dani’s family, the depiction of her relationship with Christian, and the ending. There are themes of co-dependence, grief, alienation, etc., but nothing is spelled out explicitly, and the audience is allowed multiple ways of reacting to her fate. One of my favorite things about the movie is the incongruity between the foreshadowing and the conclusion. Being familiar with the relevant genre conventions, when Pelle initially tells Dani about the May Queen competition I thought, “OH FUCK NO, YOU DO *NOT* WANT TO BE THE MAY QUEEN!!!!!”. We expect that the May Queen will be the one sacrificed. The surprising inversion of the finale– she’s the only one NOT sacrificed– abruptly inflects everything that preceded it with new significance, particularly the opening sequences.
- Concluding summer movie rant: This was one of the worse summers for movies that I can remember. Fuck Disney! Anyone who boycotts companies like Amazon and Walmart should look long and hard at Disney. They have bought up all the most popular properties and given them the New Disney Treatment of ironing out as much distinctness as possible and delivering safe, predictable box office products that pander to audience expectations. Any time I thought about going to the movies this summer I was dismayed to see that I only had one or two non-Disney options. I’ll keep going to see Lucasfilms movies, because I can’t not, but otherwise I’m done with this shit. The live action remakes of classic 2D animated movies are the last straw for me. This is the most cynical cash grab bullshit of all time. Amidst this landscape of cultural decay, we must cherish the few gems that make it into the multiplex. Midsommar is one of them. I just have to give props to Aster and A24 for making a hit out of a long, slow burn folk horror movie, even if they had to cut a half hour out of it. I saw the three-hour version at the local multiplex, and that’s remarkable. The other horror gem from this summer that I would urge people to check out is Aja’s Crawl. It’s a wonderfully old-fashioned creature feature. It’s not goofy and self-aware like Snakes on a Plane (and most other creature features from recent memory– the Australian crocodile flick Rogue being the most notable exception). It’s an efficient, scary, tense, chomptastic alligators-in-a-hurricane genre exercise and it rules. Go see Midsommar and Crawl if you still have the opportunity. Support the good shit. Fuck Disney.