Midsommar- A hellish account of gaslighting and trauma

On the hottest day of the year I sought refuge in the air conditioned Curzon to watch Midsommar, a two and a half hour long absolute ordeal. It’s an ordeal I’m in a hurry to put myself through again, though- as much as it cut very close to the bone, I loved it.

Ari Aster’s beautiful and hellish second feature length offering has been described by critics as a breakup movie dressed in the clothes of a folk horror. This breaks the film down to its molecular level- it is indeed a breakup film inflected with folk horror themes, but its roots are also deeply planted in the theme of trauma. With echoes of The Wicker Man (not the Nic Cage version) running throughout, Aster also explores concepts of alienation, othering and gaslighting through the lens of an unnerving cult festival.

The film begins with central character Dani, gorgeously played by Florence Pugh, receiving the news that her sister and parents have died in a murder/suicide. In the midst of this, her relationship is clearly breaking down. When we meet Dani’s boyfriend Christian he is with his friends Josh, Mark and Pelle, who insist he gets out of the relationship after being unhappy with Dani for a long time. He essentially stays with her out of pity after the loss of her family. She relies heavily on Christian for support as she goes from “crisis to crisis”- none of which are her fault. Following the deaths of Dani’s family, Christian invites her to join him and his friends at a Midsommar festival in rural Sweden where Josh hopes to study a cult for his Anthropology thesis. He doesn’t expect her to accept the invitation, but she does- much to the disappointment of Christian’s friends.

Dani, Christian, Josh and Mark are accompanied to the Midsommar festival by Pelle, a member of the pagan cult community. He creates a bridge between the American outsiders and the cult members, oxygenating all communication. Soon into the trip Dani and the others attend a ceremony. Standing at the bottom of a cliff with the cult members dressed in white robes, they watch as two cult elders throw themselves off the edge to their deaths. Senicide is a celebrated aspect of the Midsommar festivities and Dani’s devastation at witnessing two graphic deaths seems to put a dampener on the festivities for the cult.

Interestingly, the mental health of those who throw themselves to their deaths is never in question. We understand that it is a part of their ritual, a sacred belief. It’s the impact it has on the American outsiders- particularly Dani- that carries the most weight. This is a motif carried throughout the film: reasonable reactions to devastating situations being absolutely undermined and devalued by others. Dani is the only character to consistently question everything that seems fundamentally wrong or offbeat.

What struck me so hard was how utterly ambivalent everyone around Dani was to her mental health. She clearly needs help and no one is willing to give it to her. Midsommar will be close to home for a lot of people. Grief, trauma and break ups are so tightly woven into every scene and the narrative and characterisations are so firmly rooted in the ways in which trauma is handled and relationships are managed (or not managed.) Watching Dani desperately trying to keep Christian with her by excusing his selfish and distant behaviour, justifying his actions to herself so she didn’t have to confront the idea that the relationship might be over- I felt like I was watching my past self. Dani repeatedly removes herself from situations in which she is asked to talk about the loss of her family- I think by this point she has internalised the idea that people see her as a burden and she should stay quiet. The way those around her handle her trauma- Christian staying in a relationship with her despite his clear ambivalence towards her- actively makes her mental health significantly worse. So visceral and primitive was Florence Pugh’s performance as a woman dealing with a traumatic event and trying to placate the one person she feels she has for support, I felt like I had been put right in that place. The break up narrative that runs through the film is something everyone knows. We’ve all flogged a dead horse.

Parallels between Midsommar and Hereditary were evident throughout. The blood eagle and totems built from dismantled corpses at the end of Midsommar was reminiscent of the totems built from the bodies of Charlie and her grandmother at the end of Hereditary. Dani’s guttural cries into Christian’s lap after she received the news about her family’s deaths was very similar (visually and aurally) to Toni Collette’s wailing after discovering Charlie’s body in the back seat of the car. One theme I think Aster has carried through both Hereditary and Midsommar is the idea of humans embodying something ancient and being empowered to carry out sanctioned, ritualised punishments.

Where Hereditary- Aster’s first full length feature- drew its horror from abject darkness, the disturbing thing about Midsommar is that everything happens in glorious sunshine. Repeated motifs and symbolism push forward feelings of everything being slightly off kilter. There is always a crying child in the dormitory Dani and the others sleep in; the tapestries in every set provide clear foreshadowing; the difference in clothing between the American tourists and the white robe clad cult members; the unnerving stillness during all cult rituals. Dani’s breathing almost becomes a character in itself through some of the more unnerving and disturbing scenes. We hone in on her breath, deep and troubled. Much like in The Wicker Man, everything is slightly off.

From start to finish, Dani is the victim of gaslighting. The fact that Dani experiences problems is presented as being as damaging to Christian as it is to her- having to take care of her has become such a laborious task that he has absolutely detached himself from the relationship. In the midst of this, Christian finds a way to lay the blame for all problems at Dani’s door. Who doesn’t know that feeling? Watching it back is part of the horror. Exploring this through the lens of a cult festival means that all problems are amplified, the toxic relationship is put in a stressful alien environment. The way Aster presents a toxic relationship is masterful. It is more about the things that aren’t said than the things that are.

On the eighth day of the festival Dani discovers Christian having sex with a cult member. She flees and finds comfort with other cult members. This is the start of Dani’s descent into seeking family and comfort in the arms of the group. In that moment, she realises the relationship is over and she begins to embrace the festival. In the final act there is a mass human sacrifice to close the Midsommar festival. As Dani appears covered in more and more bright flowers with every passing shot, she almost looks stifled by the cult. Dani has been so acclimated that she is told she is entitled to choose the ninth and final human sacrifice- she has to choose either a cult member or an outsider.

Her choice to sacrifice Christian and let him burn to death in a cult ritual is the final revenge of a woman who has been gaslighted and ghosted by the man she was in a four year relationship with. It’s the culmination of consecutive traumatic events being devalued and dismissed. It’s the result of brushing off every concern, every problem. Dani’s decision to sacrifice Christian is a multifaceted one- was she doing him a kindness as he was damaged by that point anyway after a cult member paralyses him? Was it really just a case of ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?’ The final sacrifice is just more death, repeating the murder/suicide actions of her sister in a sanctioned ritualistic manner. Dani’s cries as Christian burns slowly turn into a smile.

I loved Midsommar- all two and a half hours of it- but I don’t think it’s without its problems. I was a little startled by the character of Ruben, a product of inbreeding within the cult. He is a disabled child described as “unclouded by normal cognition”, a prophetic being who draws his visions, which the elders then write into words. Ruben was intentionally bred to be disabled so he could use his “abnormal cognition” to prophesise. To say that Aster is an incredibly smart filmmaker, I was disappointed to see him straying into the realm of the Supercrip narrative. Not only was the disabled child played by an able-bodied actor in makeup, he was presented as a horror trope- he is inherently horrific due to his appearance. Perhaps going beyond the Supercrip identity, Ruben’s character is presented as equally magical and horrific due to his disability. I hope Aster reflects on this character choice and does better next time.

The layering of symbolism, repetition, foreshadowing and order in Midsommar means it demands a second watch. It will definitely divide audiences, possibly due to the marketing of it as a horror film. It’s horrific and disturbing, but if you approach Midsommar as a horror film I think you will be disappointed. Much like Hereditary, Midsommar relies so much on what isn’t there, rather than what is. Then when the crescendo arrives, it’s an absolute assault.