Reflection Blog Posts pt 3

Initiative Post

Watching Midsommar was truly a landmark in my Post-Horror film education. Seeing a film so disturbing be filmed almost entirely in daylight, and with a bright colour palette completely rewired my brain and challenged what I perceived a horror film to be. Fully dimensional, realised, complicated characters within Midsommar was an unexpected addition that, for me, further elevated the story and made it more horrifying. These were REAL people, the stakes feeling much higher and the reaction more guttural. Florence Pugh was just phenomenal, and I, as a viewer, felt emotionally invested in her and her future. Her ending evoked a plethora of mixed emotions; relief, satisfaction, fear and disgust. To have a horror film successfully evoke this range is proof of how powerful horror can be; not just a cheap scare.  David Sims explores how Midsommar was intentionally shaped as folk horror, as well as a “break-up movie and a fairy tale with horror elements” (Sims 2019). I love the mashing up of genres, especially with Horror, and it got me thinking about how combining unlikely genre tropes can create a subversive story, that goes beyond the expectations of the audience, and can create a unique unease. 

I was also quick to latch onto the powerful, feminist statement seen through Dani’s journey about the embracement of one’s emotions, fostered by the communional setting (Lane 2019). At the beginning of the film, Dani is already isolated. Her boyfriend throughout the film tries to convince her that she is overreacting, minimising her feelings. Christian makes  “Dani feel like she’s guilty for needing his help, so he doesn’t have to feel guilty for not being able to provide it” (Ryan 2019). Throughout the film, Dani actively isolates herself, especially from the male characters, whenever she feels overwhelmed and emotional. Ryan argues that, in doing this, “she’s unable to heal in any meaningful way. There is no one to help her share the burden of her loss” (Ryan 2019). After witnessing Christian’s infidelity, she leaves to cry in private, “only to be surrounded, held up..by women who tacitly give her permission to feel everything she’s feeling right in the moment”. They echo her cries and screams, sharing her grief and her rage and amplifying it (Lane 2019). It’s a scene that is both uncomfortable and cathartic to watch. The final moments of the film reflect the  release Dani finds in no longer minimising herself. “Gone is the woman who has decided to conceal her emotions for the sake of sparing others” (Sims 2019), the film’s final shot being a close up of Dani as she watches her boyfriend go up in flames, her face morphing into a look of pure joy and peace. It’s a bold and complex story such as this that has further inspired me to look deeper into what Post-Horror can provide for the audience and the characters within the film. Its ability to mirror real life experiences and issues whilst still being horrifically whimsical reflects the potential and power of this genre that I can’t wait to further explore.

Bibliography 

Carly Lane, 2019, HOW MIDSOMMAR ILLUSTRATES THE CATHARSIS OF EXPRESSING EMOTION, SYFY Wire, 27 June, How Midsommar illustrates the catharsis of expressing emotion | SYFY WIRE

Danielle Ryan, 2019, ‘Midsommar’: Ari Aster And Florence Pugh’s Complex, Climactic Catharsis, SlashFilm, 17 July, ‘Midsommar’: Ari Aster And Florence Pugh’s Complex, Climactic Catharsis (slashfilm.com)

David Sims, 2019, ‘What Kind of Movie Ari Aster Wanted Midsommar To Be’, Atlantic, 3 July, https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2019/07/ari-aster-midsommar-interview/593194/