In a picturesque, isolated village in Sweden called Harga where everything seems normal, Ari Aster crafts an unsettling horror film that is made to keep you uneasy. Midsommar doesn’t rely on darkness, jump scares, or demonic elements. Every uncomfortable moment happens in the daylight, under the endlessly lit landscape of Swedish summer. This is exactly what makes it hard to endure.
Within the first 10 minutes, Dani, the main character, receives unfortunate news that her sister killed herself and her parents. It is one of the most devastating scenes of the film, and it happens well before the true horror even begins. Dani’s grief becomes the central engine for the people of Harga to manipulate and convince her to become one of their own. The movie is not wholly about a dangerous cult. It is about a hollow woman after a traumatic loss that belonging somewhere and anywhere starts to feel worth the gruesome price.
Dani and Christian’s relationship is the one of the film’s quiet motivators to push Dani fully into the cult. Christian may not be the villain, but he is definitely not the best boyfriend. He stays with Dani not because he loves her, but because he feels it might not be the best time to leave her. When the friend group travels to Sweden for the midsummer festival at Harga, it further exposes the cracks in their relationship. Dani starts to suspect Christian of cheating and in general starts to lose interest in her. The village starts to show Christian’s failures in their relationship, and they become the final push for Dani’s assimilation into the cult.
Most horror films are shrouded in darkness for maximum scare effect. Ari Aster flips that and shoots the whole film in bright, open daylight with wide frames and long takes. The village commune is beautiful, with green meadows, vibrant flowers, and the people are, at the surface, warm and welcoming. Aster weaponizes the beauty of the commune, patiently invoking uneasiness. By the time the violent rituals begin, it doesn’t arrive in darkness but in broad daylight and in full detail, making it unavoidable. Daylight in the movie makes it unbearable.
The defining scene of the movie is midway through when Dani has a breakdown after an argument with Christian. The women from the cult do not offer her consolation by themselves but encircle her and mirror her crying in unison. It is one of the most peculiar moments in the movie, and at the same time, one of the most emotional. For the first time, someone understands her pain, matching it rather than belittling it. What Christian has failed to provide her throughout their relationship, the cult provides her in just one brief moment. It is the point when she starts feeling like one of them, and Aster shows the moment with utmost sincerity, without irony or any implication towards the viewer.
If a cult gives you more than the people closest to you ever did, what does that make those people? The cult’s rituals are grotesque if asked by anyone. Nevertheless, the movie is careful to show the commune members not as cruel, but warm and present in a way Christian is unable to do throughout the movie. This is why Dani’s uncanny smile at the end is unsettling. She is just happy to belong somewhere for once.
Ultimately, this movie is not about cults. It is about loss, isolation, and what can happen when people become so desperate for human connection that an inherently unsafe location begins to seem safer than anything else they have known. The horror is not what the commune does to outsiders. It is how reasonable it starts to look the longer you watch. Some films frighten you with what you do not see. This one frightens you with what you do.
