Midsommar

Midsommar

Grief seems to be claimed by the night and the dark. Depressed bodies made hollow almost belong in shade; sadness and terror should be allergic to the sun and the daylight should hold monsters. Aster's inversion of typical-horror locale is one of Midsommar's greatest strengths; the film's geography is incredible: flowers and greenery twisted into the uncanny. And space is a constantly shifting perspective with Aster's match-cuts and transitionary moments being truly spectacular.

The movie is also really funny, using the absurdity of tragedy within group interaction to mutilate normalcy. I only wish that the film's visceral edge was as sharp. There are definitely moments of singular brutality and there is a lo-fi trace of distorted reality throughout, but the psychedelia and the grotesque are too tame; the horror is never shocking but actually extremely expected.

Everyone is excellent though, but especially Pugh and Poulter. I think I actually prefer Pugh's physicality in her exploration of grief to Collette's in Hereditary, although both performances are great.

If I ever find myself in a situation like this and I can't find one of my friends for more than five minutes I'm getting the fuck out of there.

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