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cjlasky7In Ari Aster's "Midsommar" (2019), horror does not lurk in the shadows or leap out at you from the darkness; it dances toward you across a brightly lit field, smiling and offering you a colorful flower.
The genius of Midsommar is that Aster withholds nothing from the audience, outlining the entire plot of the movie on a beautifully rendered tapestry at the very beginning, and yet building suspense and dread throughout.
The premise should be familiar to anyone who's ever seen The Wicker Man: outsiders visit a remote Swedish village to observe their midsummer rituals and wind up participating in ways they never could have imagined. As a big fan of the original Wicker Man, this was my cup of hallucinogenic mushroom tea. (I love the Neil Labute/Nic Cage remake too... but in an entirely different way.)
I was impressed by the details of Aster's alternate society: the runic designs, the aforementioned tapestry, the clothing, the dancing, the music, the architecture... heck, the floral dress Florence Pugh wears at the end deserves an award all by itself. All of it works together to create a convincing environment where Dani can complete her journey.
Dani (Pugh) and her emotional journey is the big difference between this movie and its spiritual ancestor. Shattered by the sudden loss of her entire family, Dani half-heartedly agrees to join her waste-of-space college boyfriend and his posse of (holds "L" up to forehead) bros to Sweden at the kind invitation of Pelle, who's in the States for a Swedish version of Rumspringa.
It's quite obvious that boyfriend Christian (Jack Raynor, looking like a young, low-rent Chris Pratt) checked out of the relationship months ago, and can barely summon any empathy for Dani's grief. The other guys aren't much better: Josh (William Jackson Harper) is studying the village for his graduate thesis, but doesn't respect the people or their culture, and Mark just wants to get laid.
With these guys as support, its no wonder that Dani finds release through the village and its rituals, and a friendly people who give her comfort. Magic mushrooms take her out of her head and into communion with the earth. The Maypole dance offers her sisterhood and adoration. And when the village gives her the chance to throw off--in the most extreme way possible--Christian's oppressive influence, she takes it with a smile.
Still... are we supposed to root for this? Are the villagers any better than Christian (loaded name, that) and his self-involved buddies? The villagers are very much aware of what outsiders would think of their rituals, and they go to great lengths to deceive their visitors until it's too late to leave. The so-called empathy shown Dani is just more emotional manipulation.
Yes, Dani worked through her grief... but she did it by embracing a pagan cult that practices ritual suicide, cannibalism, and human sacrifice.
So....yay?
*******************************
After greatly enjoying "The Favourite"--Yorgos Lanthimos' Oscar-winning historical folie a trois--I thought I'd go back to Lanthimos' earlier films to see if his eye for set design and talent for psychological gamesmanship carried through.
"The Killing of a Sacred Deer" (2017) completely threw me. Lanthimos was updating a Greek myth--the sacrifice of Iphigenia by her father Agammemnon--and he made some bold choices on adapting the myth to modern times and how his actors approached their interactions and dialogue.
But, IMO, none of it really worked.
The basic plot (spoilers ahead!): cardiac surgeon Steven Murphy strikes up a friendship with Martin, a strange, fatherless teenager who seems inordinately interested in Steven's family. As it turns out, Steven killed Martin's father when he operated under the influence, and Martin has insinuated himself into the Murphys' lives to deliver a terrible vengeance: unless Steven sacrifices one member of his family, his wife and children will all succumb to illness and die.
It's a terrifying and fantastical setup, and Lanthimos emphasizes the fantastical at every turn. The Murphys (led by Colin Farrell and Nicole Kidman) speak in a robotic monotone, as if drained of every real human emotion. When the children DO fall ill, the Murphys do not go to the police. They don't seem to fully explore how Martin could have caused the illness and medical science gives up without much of a fight. (The word "toxicology" is somehow never mentioned.)
No one questions the parameters of Martin's vengeance. Steven never offers to sacrifice himself to save his family, and nobody even mentions this to him as an possibility. It's as if the gods had set Steven on this path, and nothing could stop the chain of events until the sacrifice was made.
But by making the Murphys helpless automatons doomed by fate, Lanthimos drains most of the drama from the movie. Who cares what happens to these weird creatures? There's no emotional investment at all. When Steven finally does fulfill his cruel destiny (leaving the choice to blind chance), the scene comes off as slightly comical instead of heartbreaking.
(Would this movie have worked better if Lanthimos had pitched it straight as a black comedy? Maybe. But you know me--I think every movie I can't get into would be better as a comedy.)
The only thing that really worked for me here was Martin. Barry Keoghan has this weird intensity that served him well in Eternals and The Batman, and Martin has that intensity in spades. He's a sad kid, emotionally stunted (perhaps autistic?), but he is also a spirit of vengeance, undeterred by reason or violence or love. Martin is grounded in reality, but there's something vaguely supernatural about him, as if he was chosen by Fate to be the messenger of doom.
I wonder if I would have liked this movie more if the whole thing was taking place in Martin's head. Of course the Murphys wouldn't be completely real to him (and the pretty daughter would like him); of course the medical examinations would be lacking in detail; and of course nothing would stop him from returning the pain Steven inflicted on him by taking away his father.
Maybe (in my scenario) Martin is sitting in the dimly lit cafe opposite the brightly lit corridors of the hospital, watching Steven come and go without a care in the world... the events of this movie playing in his head over and over and over again....
The genius of Midsommar is that Aster withholds nothing from the audience, outlining the entire plot of the movie on a beautifully rendered tapestry at the very beginning, and yet building suspense and dread throughout.
The premise should be familiar to anyone who's ever seen The Wicker Man: outsiders visit a remote Swedish village to observe their midsummer rituals and wind up participating in ways they never could have imagined. As a big fan of the original Wicker Man, this was my cup of hallucinogenic mushroom tea. (I love the Neil Labute/Nic Cage remake too... but in an entirely different way.)
I was impressed by the details of Aster's alternate society: the runic designs, the aforementioned tapestry, the clothing, the dancing, the music, the architecture... heck, the floral dress Florence Pugh wears at the end deserves an award all by itself. All of it works together to create a convincing environment where Dani can complete her journey.
Dani (Pugh) and her emotional journey is the big difference between this movie and its spiritual ancestor. Shattered by the sudden loss of her entire family, Dani half-heartedly agrees to join her waste-of-space college boyfriend and his posse of (holds "L" up to forehead) bros to Sweden at the kind invitation of Pelle, who's in the States for a Swedish version of Rumspringa.
It's quite obvious that boyfriend Christian (Jack Raynor, looking like a young, low-rent Chris Pratt) checked out of the relationship months ago, and can barely summon any empathy for Dani's grief. The other guys aren't much better: Josh (William Jackson Harper) is studying the village for his graduate thesis, but doesn't respect the people or their culture, and Mark just wants to get laid.
With these guys as support, its no wonder that Dani finds release through the village and its rituals, and a friendly people who give her comfort. Magic mushrooms take her out of her head and into communion with the earth. The Maypole dance offers her sisterhood and adoration. And when the village gives her the chance to throw off--in the most extreme way possible--Christian's oppressive influence, she takes it with a smile.
Still... are we supposed to root for this? Are the villagers any better than Christian (loaded name, that) and his self-involved buddies? The villagers are very much aware of what outsiders would think of their rituals, and they go to great lengths to deceive their visitors until it's too late to leave. The so-called empathy shown Dani is just more emotional manipulation.
Yes, Dani worked through her grief... but she did it by embracing a pagan cult that practices ritual suicide, cannibalism, and human sacrifice.
So....yay?
*******************************
After greatly enjoying "The Favourite"--Yorgos Lanthimos' Oscar-winning historical folie a trois--I thought I'd go back to Lanthimos' earlier films to see if his eye for set design and talent for psychological gamesmanship carried through.
"The Killing of a Sacred Deer" (2017) completely threw me. Lanthimos was updating a Greek myth--the sacrifice of Iphigenia by her father Agammemnon--and he made some bold choices on adapting the myth to modern times and how his actors approached their interactions and dialogue.
But, IMO, none of it really worked.
The basic plot (spoilers ahead!): cardiac surgeon Steven Murphy strikes up a friendship with Martin, a strange, fatherless teenager who seems inordinately interested in Steven's family. As it turns out, Steven killed Martin's father when he operated under the influence, and Martin has insinuated himself into the Murphys' lives to deliver a terrible vengeance: unless Steven sacrifices one member of his family, his wife and children will all succumb to illness and die.
It's a terrifying and fantastical setup, and Lanthimos emphasizes the fantastical at every turn. The Murphys (led by Colin Farrell and Nicole Kidman) speak in a robotic monotone, as if drained of every real human emotion. When the children DO fall ill, the Murphys do not go to the police. They don't seem to fully explore how Martin could have caused the illness and medical science gives up without much of a fight. (The word "toxicology" is somehow never mentioned.)
No one questions the parameters of Martin's vengeance. Steven never offers to sacrifice himself to save his family, and nobody even mentions this to him as an possibility. It's as if the gods had set Steven on this path, and nothing could stop the chain of events until the sacrifice was made.
But by making the Murphys helpless automatons doomed by fate, Lanthimos drains most of the drama from the movie. Who cares what happens to these weird creatures? There's no emotional investment at all. When Steven finally does fulfill his cruel destiny (leaving the choice to blind chance), the scene comes off as slightly comical instead of heartbreaking.
(Would this movie have worked better if Lanthimos had pitched it straight as a black comedy? Maybe. But you know me--I think every movie I can't get into would be better as a comedy.)
The only thing that really worked for me here was Martin. Barry Keoghan has this weird intensity that served him well in Eternals and The Batman, and Martin has that intensity in spades. He's a sad kid, emotionally stunted (perhaps autistic?), but he is also a spirit of vengeance, undeterred by reason or violence or love. Martin is grounded in reality, but there's something vaguely supernatural about him, as if he was chosen by Fate to be the messenger of doom.
I wonder if I would have liked this movie more if the whole thing was taking place in Martin's head. Of course the Murphys wouldn't be completely real to him (and the pretty daughter would like him); of course the medical examinations would be lacking in detail; and of course nothing would stop him from returning the pain Steven inflicted on him by taking away his father.
Maybe (in my scenario) Martin is sitting in the dimly lit cafe opposite the brightly lit corridors of the hospital, watching Steven come and go without a care in the world... the events of this movie playing in his head over and over and over again....
