MIDSOMMAR: Blu-ray (A24/Nordisk Films, 2019) Lionsgate
Four teenagers venture into an uncharted retreat from
their daily reality, only to wind up the victims of unspeakable horror. Stop me
if you’ve heard this one before. And yet, there is something surreal and remarkably
ambitious about Ari Aster’s grand guignol, Midsommar (2019) – set in a
sadomasochistic Swedish cult during the solstice where the sun positively
refuses to set. Embroiling his cast in thoroughly menacing vignettes, based on
some cultishly disquieting sacraments, before long Midsommar has transgressed
from its pseudo-garb as a ‘break-up’ movie in a pastoral enclave into vaguely familiar
horror hallmarks, precepts and clichés: bodies, bludgeoned, Ginsu-ed,
incinerated – alive – splattered on the ground, etc. Yep, there are some truly
grotesque shots of distorted, mashed together faces; corpses, gutted and
dangling from the rafters, dissected animal and human entrails. Mmmm. Anyone
for spaghetti? And, that’s not even touching upon the ‘nightmare sequence’, complete
with a lot of shrieking and regurgitation. Did I mention the full-on nudity and
‘penetrating’ sex scene (pun intended), or the foul language and detailed sketches
of a vagina? Aster’s vision of a cult is as disturbing as it whiffs unintentionally
sophomoric. And basically, he has been given a walk by the critics, falling
down drunk and delirious in their blind praise of his ‘craftsmanship’ as though
to have similarly partaken of the hallucinogenic ‘shrooms and other
mind-altering drugs indulged in by the flower-power followers of this movie. But
strip away the mask of faux artistry and what you have is basically a B-movie
that, at either its theatrical run time of 148 mins. or newly minted 172 min.
director’s cut, is lent the girth of an epic – which, most certainly, it is
not. Length alone does not seem to afflict Midsommar. I found the
minutes passing, at first, uneventfully, and then, in time, with an increasing
sense of unease, perverted by Aster’s taste for unearthing the insidiously
macabre from under the stark light of day.
What is here is basically a ‘not another teen
movie’ gone to seed; Aster, cribbing from his own miserable split, and
projecting this angst onto his protagonists, already traumatized before they
even set foot on the verdant soil of this rural community of white-robed and
laurel-leafed kooks. I do not suppose it will surprise anyone that in its
initial conception, Aster perceived Midsommar as nothing better than a
slasher flick. Yet, from this inauspicious beginning, he grows the narrative
outward into something far more ominous, unfathomable and annihilating. The
horror to be had in Midsommar is not from without, but within. So,
welcome these ‘survivors of birth’ – the college clique, typified by Dani
(Florence Pugh) and Christian (Jack Reynor). She’s a shell-shocked and
emotionally cut off hot mess, grappling with the gruesome loss of her elder
sister and parents, in a double murder/suicide. He’s just an indifferent anthropology
student whose ambitions never reach much beyond hanging out with his friends. The
compassion Chris initially showed Dani after her loss has since worn thin, and,
it does not appear their relationship – solely based on grief – is long for
this world. So, the trip to Sweden with brash best bud, Mark (Will Poulter),
anthropology arch nemesis, Josh (William Jackson Harper) and exchange student,
Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) is welcomed – at first. Pelle’s collective, the Hårga,
and its week-long celebration is this troop’s destination, and also, the topic
of Josh’s thesis.
Dani is the proverbial ‘fish out of water’ here. Why
she should accept Christian’s invite to this bro-mantic getaway is, frankly,
beyond me – or, so it would seem, even the scope of Aster’s basic ‘chop and
slop’ premise. He just needs token estrogen along for this ride. It goes with
the ‘scream’ track – another hallmark in horror movies. It takes Aster an
interminably long time to get his cohorts to this boondocks, and while
what occurs there will likely revile and rivet most viewers to their seats, it
is never quite enough to make us forget the numbness in our lower extremities
from having already waited too long to get to the point of the story. Filling
in the gap are Dani and Christian’s chronic passive/aggressive ‘I can’t
believe we’re about to ‘not’ quarrel’ quarrels. Can we just get on with it?
Rather predictably, Pelle, who lost his own parents, reaches out to Dani for
solace of the ‘misery loves company’ vein. She’s having none of it,
however, too enveloped by visions of her dead sister, vegging out on
psychotropic stimulants, or just tuning out of reality in her arctic
desolation. The arrival at Hälsingland is therefore a much-needed jolt to Dani’s
system, even though a slap upside the head would likely suffice. Ah, but on to Hälsingland;
ah yes, Hälsingland; a place where the cows really do come home, the sun never
sets, and the 20th century, for all intent and purposes never
actually arrived. It’s like Brigadoon for Swedes. And due to a rare phenomenon – the ‘midnight
sun’ – we get 22-full-hours of daylight, just to make the discombobulation near
complete. Apart from one over-sized
barn-like dorm, there is no town to speak of – just rolling hills, brightly
lit, where the white-robed denizens frolic and do their interpretation of a
Busby Berkeley-esque ‘ring-around-the-rosy’.
From here, everything starts to get ugly – and fast.
Best to leave the particulars alone. What is of interest is Aster’s point of
view. This is not, as one might anticipate, a cult devoted to death, but rather
a slightly embalmed enclave of the pagan-class. You can’t even suggest their
minds have been warped – deprogrammed is more like it – replaced, more accurate
still, by a kinetically hot-wired telepathy of intuitive total control. And
while most everyone would find Hälsingland about as restful as a bed of rusty
nails, arguably, this is the one place on earth where Dani could sincerely feel
at home. Unusual for a horror movie too, but Aster and his cinematographer,
Pawel Pogorzelski have elected to illustrate terror in broad daylight. And so,
it begins – the real spook show of self-illuminating mutilations and human
sacrifices; Aster, weaving his dread into the very fiber of each frame; the faux
purity of those obedient soldiers, crowned in wreaths of Shasta daisies,
masking a more baleful yet vague approach to life and death. When one cultist
feels pain, the others cry out in his shared empathy. When a virgin gives it
up, the elder women take to masturbation. As Dani’s emotional pain reaches its
zenith, the village girls dry-heave to console her. Aside: not sure how this is
supposed to help, but you know…it’s only a movie. Ironically, the real dread is
wrought internally. While the visitors are disturbed by what they experience,
they are also strangely compelled to partake with an active interest.
Midsommar is really Dani’s story to tell, and Florence Pugh,
running the hyper-sensitive gamut to angst-riddled extremes, does most of the
heavy lifting here. Jack Reynor’s Christian is the token tool, meant to
instigate more conflict than resolution in the lass he supposedly cares for but
cannot quite figure out. As inferior comic relief, Will Poulter’s tasteless prick
is pointlessly endearing. Director, Aster has done his utmost to convey fear,
while simultaneously depriving the horror genre of its one substantial cliché –
inherent darkness. Instead, we get fear exposed under the stark noon-day glow
of sunlight; in lieu of shadowy corners and winding byways, we get vast spaces,
clear-cut into green infinity where no bogeyman can hide. There are no ‘in
your face’ moments to speak of because everything from Aster is an ‘in
your face’ reality that cannot be escaped. Allowing the skin to crawl
without all that much stimulation, works for this movie. It is unsettling, to
say the least. But is it art? While the critics have been ‘over the moon’ in
their praise, I cannot help but suggest Aster has taken away the last vestige
of safety – broad daylight – in a world that needs no encouragement today to go
‘off the rails’ mad. Midsommar will appeal to those who still need their
intelligence ruffled and stirred by the inescapable truths of man, willful and
self-destructive. As for myself, I am not particularly glad to have seen it,
and definitely will not be engaging this one for a repeat viewing.
Midsommar arrives on Blu-ray via Lionsgate in a fairly
stunning Blu-ray that will surely not disappoint. The 1080p, 2.00:1 image is
nicely complimented – first, by the darkly desaturated hues of our prologue,
then, with the full-flourish of brightly lit outdoor scenery that compliments
the storytelling. The sun-soaked locale is
ravishing, Pawel Pogorzelski’s cinematography possessing an ‘other-worldly’
atmosphere. Contrast is excellent and there is a light smattering of film grain
looking very indigenous to its source. The DTS 5.1 audio is exceptionally nuanced.
Extras include the featurette, Let the Festivities Begin: Manifesting
Midsommar allowing Ari Aster his moment to identify the picture as an ‘adult
fairy tale’ and wax affectionately about Florence Pugh and the Hungarian shoot.
We also get Bear in a Cage Promo
– a pseudo toy advertisement/ promo for the movie, with children garbed in
white and flower wreaths. Lionsgate has also crammed 3 trailers here for High
Life, The Last Black Man in San Francisco, and Aster’s own, Hereditary.
Bottom line: I wish I could say ‘nothing to see here, folks, move
along’ except that Midsommar has a terrible sway. Despite its perversity,
I can still see images of it flashing before me. Time to wash my mind out with
another viewing of The Sound of Music (1965), because when I think of
sunny, green rolling hills, I would much rather have Maria Von Trapp than Dani
at my side. Bottom line: not recommended for content. The Blu-ray is stunning.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
3
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
1
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