‘Midsommar’ — Artistic and Unnerving, But Something’s Missing
In the early stages of Midsommar, Dani Ardor (Florence Pugh) takes shrooms and has a bad trip. That’s the simplest way to describe a scene that bursts with creative brilliance. Colors merge and pop in and out of focus, grass grows out of Dani’s hand, tree bark slides and oozes, and the camera spins around. Dani tries to compose herself indoors (we see a flash of her sister’s face in the mirror), but eventually runs somewhere in the woods, the world shifting and turning about as she cannot remain rooted and firm on the ground. Quickly a cut to the rest of the group waking her.
Within that maybe two minutes of the movie, the elements that make up the best of Midsommar are revealed. Aster is a master at bending the space and confines that can be manipulated in film. When the core group of characters first drives up to the commune Härga, the screen rotates and flips — the road on top and sky on bottom, as a sign for Hälsingland passes by upside-down. It throws the viewer off balance and serves as a remarkably effective transition into the rest of the movie, a crossing between worlds.
Aster’s transitioning is impeccable. A few moments before the entrance into Hälsingland, Dani runs into an apartment bathroom after talking to Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren), thinking about her parents. Our view zooms upwards and contorts out of…
