Midsommar ★★★★½

I tricked my friend into seeing this by telling him it is a spiritual sequel to We’re The Millers, (seriously I am not joking) and he completely bought it. By the time it ended, we just sat there, all of us, laughing derisively at the screen because we knew the outcome was too opaque to bear, too esoteric to take in wholeheartedly with a sober mind. Daytime horror, psyche’s distortion, breathing flowers, dilated pupils, paroxysms of gore and nudities – Ari Aster is back with his usual grievances. I will say this, if you thought Hereditary and The Wicker Man (1973) were tame, then I would recommend you to forge ahead into the floral burgeoned Midsommar under the zenith of day and be engulfed by a sea of catharsis. Go, take your date and enjoy some meat pies, drink some juices, get stoned, vape, have a few laughs, dance and get lit - So far, these are my scattered thoughts because I’m still tripping.

Shout out to the lady behind me, who clearly said “YEET” during the cliff scene.

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