Considering Ari Aster’s feature length debut, Hereditary, won the not-so-coveted top spot on my worst films of 2018 list, I can’t say I was particularly enthusiastic heading into his Scandinavian follow up, Midsommar, especially considering the reviews were as similarly divided this time around. Not one to judge a book by its cover, or a film by its review, this Halloween I finally took the plunge and settled in to see what all the fuss was about.

Tonally Aster’s Midsommar is chalk and cheese compared to its predecessor, taking place in the land of the Midnight Sun and brightly coloured floral wreaths, but in terms of storytelling it is just as mind-bendingly unsettling as Hereditary was – if not more so.

For those who haven’t seen it yet, Midsommar begins with an intense prologue that details the awful tragedy that befalls our leading lady, Dani (Florence Pugh), and hints at the rocky state of her relationship with her self-absorbed long-term boyfriend Christian, who we learn has been wanting out of the relationship for a long time. Unable to end the relationship whilst Dani is in such a raw emotional state, Christian invites her to tag along on an academic trip to Sweden to attend a once-in-a-lifetime Midsummer festival in his friend’s, Pelle, remote home village of Hårga. Joining Dani, Christian and Pelle is Josh, who is writing his anthropology thesis on Midsummer practices and traditions, and the loud mouthed, stereotypical ‘American’ Mark who only seems to care about getting high, getting laid and (quite literally) pissing on other culture’s traditions.

Once in Sweden, the film descends slowly into a hazy, psychedelic what-the-fuck spiral of tradition, folklore and death giving birth to new life, all ominously and expertly depicted in the bright Scandinavian sunshine.

If it was Aster’s intention to make the audience’s viewing experience as uncomfortable as possible then I have to say he accomplished his mission. There is an ominous, almost overwhelming, sense of foreboding from the very first frame and you spend the entire two and a half hour runtime wondering who, what, when, where, how and most importantly why – knowing that something is not quite right but being unable to put your finger on it.

The film labours on at a languid, almost glacial, pace giving the audience too much time to think and speculate. The wide shot cinematography fills the screen with details that may be foreshadowing and forewarning or may just be world building devices completely insignificant to the plot, and background activities that are seemingly innocent and celebratory but could quite as easily be sinister and symbolic.

The musical choices echo this feeling of unease but plays second fiddle (excuse the pun) to the human – or inhuman – sounds of the rituals. Whether it is eerie songs sweetly sung, cries of pain and anguish or strange breathing rituals, it is Aster’s decision to set his film to the vocal cacophony of human emotion that draws the feeling of restless disquiet into the very bones of his audience.

Although her leading role in Fighting With My Family is considered to be her breakout roles, her turn as Dani is the one that truly put her on the map, and it is easy to see why as she carries the full weight of the film firmly on her shoulders. It’s difficult to take your eyes off of her – this is her journey, her film and pretty much everyone else is just along for the ride.

Midsommar is available* to stream on Netflix.

The Rig is available to watch on Amazon Prime*

*At the time of publishing.