Midsommar – a review

A young woman Dani joins her boyfriend and his gang on a (semi)-work holiday to a closed off community in Sweden. There, each year, the locals hold a mid-summer festival. But, as Dani soon finds out, this particular mid-summer festival is rather sinister in nature.

The third tale of horror.
One of the things –the spiritual predecessor of Midsommar- The wicker man (1973) did very well was that it broke the mould of horror. Where most horror movies at the time relied on the darkness of night, The wicker man is shot almost entirely in daylight. There are hardly any dark shadows with creatures lurking to be found in this movie.

Then, where horror movies were usually comprised of (jump)scares or a feeling of imminent dread (suspense) The wicker man brought a new (now) horror trope to the table: a constant unsettling feeling. Basically the cult in that movie freaked the viewer out.

Without spoiling much Midsommar is about a pagan cult as well. And like The wicker man their constant ‘happy-faces’ are meant to disturb the viewer long after the credits are done.

The movie never bluntly tells you that this cult/sect/strung-out-hippies-community are evil; it relies on the viewer’s common sense. And just this reliance on the viewer’s humanity (to me) strengthens the unsettling horror of Midsommar.

I always rather disliked that The wicker man had to point out that the cult was evil.

I kinda got that already by the time that speech happened.

Midsommar isn’t a movie to watch if you want to be ‘hide-behind-your-pillow’-scared. Nor is it the movie to watch if you wish to experience a feeling of dread coming your way. But if you want to feel your stomach turn just by how uncomfortable you feel it is the perfect (third tale of) horror for you.

Packing your bags: story.
Midsommar is a slow-burn movie. It allows a lot of time, with long scenes, to get to the point. For a movie that has every intention of making the viewer feel uncomfortable this is a necessity. The movie needs time to give the viewer the feeling/virus and let it fester.

Basically the movie uses the three-arch structure: ‘introduction and arriving at the festival’, ‘something happens’, ‘the finale’.

The movie itself acknowledges this by introducing mysteries. The first mystery is the opening.

My amateur filmmaker’s mind wanted the title ‘Midsommar’ to appear after the first mystery is solved (on the snowflakes).

It didn’t happen.

The second mystery happens quickly after the main characters witness the first big ‘moment’ (more on that later). The third mystery, then, begins with a stolen book but quickly turns into something else.

This simple structure gives a movie time to breathe (no flashback headaches or secondary story
strands for instance). Plus, the fact that most of the (long) running-time takes place at the festival, the movie has the possibility to actually focus, and highlight, on the narrative side of things.

By doing this most of the clues to the main mystery are given quite cleverly through dialogue.

But, then, since movies are a ‘visual narrative medium’, the rest of the screen is filled to the brim with clues devoted to exploring the lore of the cult in picture-form and as such setting a well thought out tapestry of a backdrop:

Just to name a few: There are the importance of runes (Odin gave his eyes to be able to ‘read’ all the magical runes). The various customs that the cult-members have (they are all dressed in white except the ones who just lost their virginity) like respect to elders, pagan rituals and peculiar forms of fun and jest. Or the returning elements like tea, crying babies in the dorm, ‘sharing grief’ or the colour green representing life. In short, Midsommar brings a well thought out tradition -often taking place in the background- to the table which shows just enough to evoke a feeling of ‘more behind the screen’. Other clues that ‘something is amiss’ are visual. Like each and every building (or table arrangement) being slightly off-key (or, in case of the tables: 'rune formed').

Now, to be honest, these things add nothing to the core story; except for the fact that they ‘enrich the bouquet’.

Yet, I argue: a movie like Se7en (1995) would be nothing without the rain, murky buildings and nasty people. The mystery would, obviously, remain the same! But it just wouldn’t be the cinematic masterpiece it is without it. Some movies need the visual side to create a feeling whereas other movies rely on the story.

A perfect movie like Se7en uses both. Midsommar (yes this is a critique) only uses one.

To be honest, again, a viewer can see the main plot of Midsommar coming for miles. You don’t need a PHD in ‘horror movies’ to guess how it all goes down in the end. That’s why these abovementioned additional elements are so important. The story is 'so-so' yet, you are invested in the character’s struggle and then there is so much to explore on screen.
“Yes, that is a bear!”

Travelling to the festival: acting.
Acting wise Florence Pugh (as Dani) gives a master class in acting in the first five minutes alone. The whole script  basically hinging on this moment. If she fails this scene the rest of the movie fails with it. Why? Because the opening has to convince the viewers that they’d want to invest in her. To travel with her. And, more importantly, to understand some of the darker choices she will make along the way.

The young woman gets the screen time (again: long scenes) to go through emotions and showcase the various quirks that makes a character human.

Not so much so for the Christian-character (Jack Reynor). He stays a jock throughout the movie. An understandable fellow, mind you, but a cardboard character nonetheless.

In fact all the male characters in this movie are rather two dimensional stereotypes. Will Poulter plays the part he (apparently -as he was the same character in Bandersnatch (2018)) enjoys playing: the horny twenty-something.

William Jackson Harper ‘s Josh, then, has to mutter up the courage to play a morally bankrupt character (and fails due to –actually- screen time). And Archie Madekwe is Simon ‘the boyfriend with common sense’ which, as we all know, don’t last long in horror fiction.

No, Midsommar is a woman’s show (one scene near the end underlines this)! The women in the movie get the best parts. Even Ellora Torchia’s Connie gets, as Simon’s girlfriend, a few more scenes to expand on her character.

The only male exception is Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren). His character is interesting as he comes across like a ‘girlfriend-stealing-highwayman’. The minute he gets a full scene you know he wants Dani as his own. And, as he is quite charming and interesting, you (the viewer) might want to give him that chance. That is, until they visit Sweden. Suddenly Pelle becomes an entirely different character. He becomes a creep that wise boys tell their female friends to ‘stay clear off’.

It is an fun character to play because an actor has to play according to the surroundings of the story. In the real world Pelle has to be kind and charming. But at the festival he can allow himself to be more intrusive as he is at his home turf. It is a delicate balance to strike (helped by the script). When does one release one’s inner self?

Still, almost all the main actors/characters get their moment to shine because the movie allows them to. ‘Long-spun-storytelling’ allows for character development, as it were. In any other movie Mark would easily be forgotten. In Midsommar he lingers because the character had enough screen time to leave an impression.

The supporting characters, then (mostly the cult), are more about ‘keeping a straight face’ whilst chanting. As I mean to say it is the visual side here is more important than the actual words coming out of their mouths (with an  exception for the Stev and Siv characters).

Can I just add that Stev looks marvellous.

He’s like a combination of Heidi’s grandfather and Vitalis from Malot’s Sans Famille.

He also looks a heck of a lot like Richard Briers.

Arriving at the festival: critique.
The first thing you'll notice when you arrive at your holiday destination are the things that ‘aren’t quite like the brochure’!

Every movie has its critiques. If you are making a work of art there will always be something people like me to annoy you about it. Midsommar has some small ones and two big ones.

A small one would be ‘the amount of silicone’. I applaud the fact that the movie dared to ‘go back’ old school and use puppets for some of the gorier scenes instead of CGI. But –and I blame directing and editing for this- it focussed on it too much by showing the shots over and over again. If you show a magic-trick twice people will notice the string around your wrists. This is what happens in Midsommar. By the third time ‘the body’ was shown my mind couldn’t buy into the fiction anymore and started to recognize it as a puppet.

However, I did rather enjoy the NBC Hannibal (2013) ‘artistry’ of the kills. Midsommer shows that disturbing images can be considered art – much like a late Goya painting.

It is rumoured that there will be an ‘extended cut’ featuring a whole lot more gore.

The big one, however, is the same one I made a few weeks back when I reviewed Childs Play (2019).
When a murder happens just before your eyes you (I would argue): get out of Dodge!

For a writer this is a problem. You want the characters to stay. Yet, at the same time, you need to show the viewer (and the characters) some of the dangers they are dealing with. So how to make the characters stay?

This is a tricky thing to do. You have to bring very good arguments to the table after such a Breaking-Bad-season-2-moment. I argue both Childs Play and Midsommar don’t quite pull it off believable. The argumentation given is laughable at best.

This makes Midsommar a bit lacklustre (for ten minutes or so) after this first big moment.

The second big critique has to do with the Christian character. The guy is all over the place. First he’s kind and caring. Then he is thinking about breaking up. Then he’s avoiding confrontation. Then he’s all about wanting to write about murder mayhem. There is no logic in his character.

And as we all know: Fiction has to make sense. Reality doesn’t (to paraphrase).

This makes the character to me (a viewer) less investable. But maybe this was intentional since it makes the female performances so much more impressive.

First blood: directing
Ari Aster has done it again. After his amazing full-length feature film debut Hereditary (2018) he now, with Midsommar, created a similar in tone but definitively vastly different in style follow-up.

The tone is obvious; both movies are as bleak as they can be.

Though, I would argue that Midsommar actually ends on a somewhat positive note.

Slight Spoiler: As the final scene underlines Dani has now, finally, found a group of people to share her pain/loss with. Whilst, at the same time, quite effectively ‘letting go’ of the past and the people preventing her healing. Loss of family brings desire to find a new one. Obviously exhaling the dark cloud halfway through the picture is a visual representation of Dani releasing her feeling of loss (plus the opposite to the suicide). End Spoiler

The style, then is quite literally like night and day. Hereditary was often dark with things lurking in Midsommar, then, is in full daylight with a constant reminder to celebrate life.
the shadows. With a constant looming presence of remorse of death.

The way of directing is also a bit different. Where Hereditary did various ‘out of the book shots’ like medium-close-up and angled-shots when tension required it. Midsommar is far more playful with the camera – I would argue, at times, too playful. Like the camera turning itself upside down. This didn’t work for Ocean’s Twelve (2004) and it hardly works here. Luckily it’s only this one time.

Most of all Aster lets the camera keep a respectable distance from the action. Using a lot of long-shots (only really using medium-close-ups when somebody is talking on the phone) he creates a sense that the viewer is just somebody in the crowd at the summer festival overhearing things. The shots, for this to work, are therefore often quite a bit longer than usual in cinematic fiction. There’s never really a sense that the director is ‘forcing’ (for want of a better word) the viewer through the tale.

Rather the word here is ‘inviting’. This style of shots adds to the ‘care-free’ feel of the movie. It takes away a bit of suspense in favour of a uncomfortable feeling.

The editing underlines this. Most scenes cut beautifully into the next.

The cut to the airplane is a quite good.

Only once (during a mortar and pestle montage) does the movie allow itself to give into fast editing. Most of the time Midsommar relies on the actors playing their scenes (shot from said ‘respectable distance’) like a stage-play.

And, if you know me you know, I’m a big fan of cinematographic stage-plays.

Important to note here, however: when using this type of filmmaking is that it detaches the viewer from the characters a bit. Where theatre is a butcher’s knife, cinema is a scalpel (to paraphrase Walter Benjamin). Basically meaning; the further away you sit the less ‘connected’ you are with the characters. As such the characters of Midsommar are always a bit ‘anti-social’/or ‘detached’ to the viewer. Which, as a viewer is a social being, feeds into the established sense of unease.

As a second full-length movie Aster showcases himself as a visual director who has more tricks up his sleeve than just creating a claustrophobic haunted family tale.

Final girl: conclusion.
Midsommar is a visual, acting film first and foremost. It isn’t your usual horror-fare that relishes in blood, slaughter and things that go bump in the night. Instead it wants to make you feel uncomfortable. The style does most of the work for you. It feels detached and strange. The acting, then, underlines the simple story of an insane Swedish cult.
Midsommar is a visual spectacle that gets under your skin and lingers there long after the movie is done.

Can I just praise Ari Aster’s love for corny songs.

Both in Hereditary and Midsommar he ends his sordid tale with a magnificent ‘guilty pleasure’ of a song.

Little monsters – a review

A school outing becomes a bit more problematic as zombies escape from a nearby military base. It’s up to professional nitwit Dave and teacher Miss Caroline with her ukulele to save the children, and the day.

Can a horror movie be a feel good movie throughout? Yes, it most certainly can. And the sure-fire way to achieve this is by not letting the movie take itself too seriously. Shaun of the dead (2004) did this, so did Housebound (2014) and so does Little monsters. The one thing not to be forgotten though, is that even though the movie puts the comedic shenanigans on the forefront there should always remain a dark heart of horror hidden in the shadows behind.

Little monsters takes the age old ‘Mr. Magoo’ trope of pretending something dangerous is a game. This naturally famously happened in Bill Murray’s The man who knew too little (1997) and, with a child being the one bamboozled, in La vita e Bella (1997).

In Little monsters it is an entire class of five-year-olds who are being lied to. The vacation-farm they are visiting is being overrun by zombies and the teacher in charge Miss Caroline manages to charm the kids in believing it is a surprise game (and the class is winning, how cool is that).

Such a concept allows for a movie to put all the known zombie tropes from zombie movies of yesteryears on its (undead) head.  However, Little monsters, hardly does that.

And when it tries (the ‘singing’ near the end) it actually fails.

As I said in the opening of this article Little monsters is, above all, a feel good movie.

In this sense the movie focuses more on the characters and their small stories than it wants to smack you on the head with visual gags. I don’t consider this a critique.

With such a title ‘Little monsters’ could easily have gone with a ‘zombie kids’ routine. A bunch of second-graders picking up arms against their fellow students.

Much like that game: Zombie playground.

But that concept has been done before in Cooties (2014). Which, due to this shift of focus, became a completely different style of movie altogether. Good in its own right, but definitely not a feel good movie.

So Little monsters tells a small, sweet, tale of people lying to children to survive a zombie outbreak whilst growing in character. It are the characters that matter here, not necessarily the (exquisite) bloodshed.

Like any movie buff who was raised with traumatizing children movies like The neverending story (1984) I always enjoy seeing kids in scary movies. Not only because it triggers my paternal instinct. A child in danger carries way more of a punch than an adult in danger. ‘Screw’ the lawyer in Jurassic Park (1993), but ‘hell no’ you are not going to eat the kids! But also because I like to look for the movie-tricks pulled to create the illusion that the child actor is in fact experiencing these traumatizing events. Little monsters is filled to the brim with these kinds of tricks-of-the-trade. An adult says a swearword and the next shot is of the child reacting, thus making it believable that the child heard said word. The same goes for the blood and gore; hardly ever are the children in the same shot with a ‘gory event’. And for their interaction with the zombies; I’m certain the friendly chap underneath the make-up cracked a joke or two before cameras started rolling. Me as a movie buff (and a somewhat responsible adult) take solace from this. Thank heavens the children don’t need any psychological help after this movie. Maybe they didn’t even realize they were making a horror movie. Much like the famous anecdote about Danny Lloyd in The Shining (1981).

 
Little monsters focuses on character first and foremost. There are three main players: Miss Caroline (Lupita Nyong'o), Dave (Alexander England) and Teddy McGiggle (Josh Gad). And it is this trio of characters that complement each other throughout this sordid tale.

Dave is a wonderful, unbelievable, a*s the first thirty minutes of the movie. He is an utterly revolting character and thus highly enjoyable. Of course, as these stories go, the minute he meets Miss Caroline he begins his road to redemption.

Teddy McGiggle then is the other way around. He begins nice and becomes nasty rather quickly. It is obvious that Gad wanted to have some fun after his iconic childlike hero in Frozen’s (2013) Olaf. And I can’t blame him.

Also listening to his final words of the credits song is hilarious.

Gad is one of those actors that I always enjoy in all his movies (21, Frozen, Murder on the Orient Express, and he was the best thing in the mediocre live-action version of Beauty and the Beast – surpassing the great McKellen, McGregor and Emma Watson even who was perfect for the part of Belle). For me, by now, he can do no wrong. And the vile, cowardly, loathsome Teddy McGiggle is just another fun role on his repertoire.

To be honest, though, neither men really get a good/believable arch from bad-to-good or good-to-bad respectively. The screen story is just too light and frivoling to make that so.

But where this would normally hurt a movie in Little monsters this actually shifts the focus to the central (‘Mary Sue’) perfect Miss Caroline. Empowering her as it were.

Even if the movie tries to make her a bit more human along the way Miss Caroline hardly changes from start to finish. She is the yellow-dressed core of the movie that all the men and children look up to and rightfully so.

The fact that she is dressed in a bright skirt with swirly hair emphasizes this sweetness in a (traditional view) feminine way.

To such an extent that it is almost shocking to see this ‘traditional 50s housewife’ play the ukulele.

That is until she has to protect her children.

After her strong duo-role in Us (2019) Nyong'o takes on another strong persona of ‘somebody who knows what to do and does it’ but with a different flavour this time ‘round. Basically Miss Caroline is Mary Poppins with a axe. She’s all care and love but don’t come between her and her cubs or she will sweetly ‘put you in the naughty corner’.

It is clear from the start that Nyong'o is (like all the other actors) loving her part (just look at the poster). Like the anti-Miss Jean Brodie, Miss Caroline is a wonderful character to set your teeth in to play.

To end with the kids. What can I say? They are young, inexperienced and absolutely loving this adventure called moviemaking.

Class dismissed
Little monsters is a modest horror-parody-feel-good movie that doesn’t want to shock you or turn your knowledge of horror-tropes upside down. No, this movie just wants to entertain you by giving you fun characters with their little stories.

Sometimes a horror-movie can leave you grinning at the screen long after a movie is done. Not because the evil monsters has been defeated in some spectacular fashion or because the female killer is actually a guy. No, you are grinning sweetly simply because everybody lived happily ever after.