First Published: July 16, 2019 (Facebook)
Shakespeare’s timeless play ‘A midsummer night’s dream’ might have been a comedy, but against a different background, elements that bring so much mirth, can take on a very different tone. The other worldly setting outside of regular life, people from almost another dimension, love potions, other parties confusing a couple’s situation and a woman’s attachment for a man leading her to follow him into an extraordinary experience were all reminiscent of the play.
And that’s where the movie really starts, and the similarity between the play and the movie ends. The lead character, Dani’s grief fuelled backstory has already been established leading her to a two week retreat in a remote Swedish commune with her boyfriend, Christian, and his friends. Despite the disturbing nature of the rituals of the mid-summer festival they are attending, the group persists in staying there, leading to increasingly bizarre occurrences with ultimately deeply unhappy consequences.
Director Ari Aster’s second outing after Hereditary is a one of a kind film, which would not be everyone’s cup of tea but at least for me was a far richer experience than the first one. Unlike Hereditary which relies on usual tropes like spirits, possessions and dark arts for effect; here the horror is witnessed only by the outsiders (and through them, the viewers) while the members of the commune go about the rituals as a regular part of their life.
It’s a very sensitive portrayal of the deep, cascading effects that serious, uncontained mental illness can have on those who are touched by it. In this case, Dani is already suffering secondary trauma from her sister’s bi-polar disorder and with her worst nightmares coming true, her sense of loneliness and abandonment is heightened. Christian is clearly out of his depth and emotionally spent to be of any real support. Despite realising this and the fact that he is detaching, she insists on staying in the relationship ultimately projecting on to him all her pent-up rage and sorrow at being left behind, in a loss of all sense of proportion and rationality herself.
The film also masterfully shows how at our weakest, we are most vulnerable to being targeted by individuals and groups with agendas of their own. The soft-spoken, gentle and understanding Pelle, who is a member of the commune, is hardly just that. In fact, he hides the motivations of someone so completely wrapped in the ethos of the commune, he seems to be unaffected by the effects of his actions on his friends. The ultimate impact is felt on Dani, who ends up paying a very high price for finally feeling secure and in control after suffering for her own heart-breaking emotional neediness since the beginning, making Midsommar more like a Shakesperean tragedy than anything else.
Finally, the film is either intentionally or not, a reflection of the dangers of blind group (non-)think and community isolation, making a probable meal out of anyone who is an outsider to that collective. The fact that we don’t know who among us could potentially already be of or readily succumb to that mind-set under different circumstances is actually the most unnerving bit, making it a layered, fine piece of horror storytelling.
Shakespeare’s timeless play ‘A midsummer night’s dream’ might have been a comedy, but against a different background, elements that bring so much mirth, can take on a very different tone. The other worldly setting outside of regular life, people from almost another dimension, love potions, other parties confusing a couple’s situation and a woman’s attachment for a man leading her to follow him into an extraordinary experience were all reminiscent of the play.
And that’s where the movie really starts, and the similarity between the play and the movie ends. The lead character, Dani’s grief fuelled backstory has already been established leading her to a two week retreat in a remote Swedish commune with her boyfriend, Christian, and his friends. Despite the disturbing nature of the rituals of the mid-summer festival they are attending, the group persists in staying there, leading to increasingly bizarre occurrences with ultimately deeply unhappy consequences.
Director Ari Aster’s second outing after Hereditary is a one of a kind film, which would not be everyone’s cup of tea but at least for me was a far richer experience than the first one. Unlike Hereditary which relies on usual tropes like spirits, possessions and dark arts for effect; here the horror is witnessed only by the outsiders (and through them, the viewers) while the members of the commune go about the rituals as a regular part of their life.
It’s a very sensitive portrayal of the deep, cascading effects that serious, uncontained mental illness can have on those who are touched by it. In this case, Dani is already suffering secondary trauma from her sister’s bi-polar disorder and with her worst nightmares coming true, her sense of loneliness and abandonment is heightened. Christian is clearly out of his depth and emotionally spent to be of any real support. Despite realising this and the fact that he is detaching, she insists on staying in the relationship ultimately projecting on to him all her pent-up rage and sorrow at being left behind, in a loss of all sense of proportion and rationality herself.
The film also masterfully shows how at our weakest, we are most vulnerable to being targeted by individuals and groups with agendas of their own. The soft-spoken, gentle and understanding Pelle, who is a member of the commune, is hardly just that. In fact, he hides the motivations of someone so completely wrapped in the ethos of the commune, he seems to be unaffected by the effects of his actions on his friends. The ultimate impact is felt on Dani, who ends up paying a very high price for finally feeling secure and in control after suffering for her own heart-breaking emotional neediness since the beginning, making Midsommar more like a Shakesperean tragedy than anything else.
Finally, the film is either intentionally or not, a reflection of the dangers of blind group (non-)think and community isolation, making a probable meal out of anyone who is an outsider to that collective. The fact that we don’t know who among us could potentially already be of or readily succumb to that mind-set under different circumstances is actually the most unnerving bit, making it a layered, fine piece of horror storytelling.
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