brat pitt’s review published on Letterboxd :
my first night at college, a friend and i took our first weed cookie from a girl we'd just met. 2 hours later we locked ourselves in my dorm room, laid on the twin beds, and tried our best not to die. after my friend decided to go back to her own room to sleep (it took her a solid 3 minutes to get the key in the hole), i was alone in the dark and nothing felt real. i turned on the lights, and everything felt too real. i was too paralyzed with panic to scramble the 5 feet across the tiny room to get my (prescription!) xanax. nothing has captured that self-inflicted terror like Midsommar.
fear lurks in the darkness. while Hereditary (and most horror) elicits scares from the creeping shadows and uncertain skitters in the murky background, Midsommar thrusts them into an unwelcome, confrontational spotlight. there is nowhere to hide in perpetual daylight. trauma must be confronted. gore and the grotesque beg to be exposed, maybe even reveled in.
a repeated phrase in ari aster's script is "it's horrible and it's beautiful." if that's what he was going for, he hit the hammer on the skull.