Solid 4 // Perverse Breakup Fantasy

Rating: 8/10 (4 September 2019)

Given the speed with which Hereditary ascended to the company of my all-time horror favorites, Midsommar had a lot to live up to. Too much, perhaps. The weight of my expectations certainly burdened my initial viewing of the film as I hotly anticipated Aster's second helping of ratcheting tension, deepening dread, despairing tone, and delayed-gratification thrills. What I got instead was unexpected, though pleasantly so.
Where Hereditary is unequivocally steeped in traditional horror iconography and tone, Midsommar is difficult to categorize as horror at all. Though it certainly has a few horrific sequences, the prevailing mood of the film is lighter with a significant emphasis on dark comedy. It plays more like a perverse fantasy in which Aster uses a folk-horror setup as a means to externalize the innermost wishes of our protagonist as she slowly comes to terms with the failure of her relationship. All the hallmarks of such a scenario - growing distance, infidelity, finding new friends, cutting the cord, retreating back to family (or in this case, discovering a new one) - are playfully heightened in absurdist and operatic rituals that wring the comedy, tragedy, horror, and catharsis from the familiar.
Approaching the film on these terms is important if you're to fully appreciate it. It's just as technically brilliant and even more visually impressive than Hereditary, though lacks the immediate thrills you might expect from a follow-up. Where Hereditary is populated by numerous sharp, stand-out sequences that often result from unexpected plot turns, Midsommar operates more as a mood piece with far fewer moment-to-moment fireworks. Instead, it patiently accumulates and lands its impact in the final frames, prompting you to reflect on the clever construction of the film and retroactively unravel the subtext. At its best, the beautiful and bizarre visuals, languid pacing, and excellent score culminate in an intoxicating surrealism that's not easy to come by in modern movies.
What I miss the most from Hereditary, though, is the richness of its characters. Despite the increasingly bizarre story developments, the humanity at the core of its subjects is ever-present and does so much to anchor the film and keep the viewer invested. By comparison, the characters in Midsommar feel decidedly thinner. The only real exception is Dani, who's brought impressively to life by Pugh, though even she feels ill-defined next to Collette's multilayered and devastating turn as Annie. The extra 30 minutes of the Director's Cut thankfully does quite a bit to flesh out the dimensions of the characters and smooth the pacing, ultimately heightening the impact of the ending. It's the definitive cut by a convincing margin, though still doesn't fully rectify the somewhat insubstantial quality of the characters. I can marvel at the technical prowess, admire the carefully-tuned pacing, soak in the thick atmosphere, and contemplate the themes, but I do so at a distance, never fully losing myself in the drama as I have with Hereditary.
Still, Midsommar is a fine sophomore effort from Aster that boasts arresting visuals, bold direction, and a subtly surreal tone that sets it apart as a unique and memorable journey well-worth taking. Check your post-Hereditary expectations at the door and it will cast an intoxicating spell all its own.
Solid 4/5