Robin Hardy’s 1973 The
Wicker Man has long been a classic in the pagan horror genre. Its juxtaposition of an idyllic pagan culture
on a remote Scottish island with the strict Christian police officer
investigating a child’s disappearance, with horrifying consequences, has
spawned many imitators and a disastrous 2006 remake starring Nicolas Cage. Even Hardy’s own 2011 sequel, The Wicker Tree, co-produced with
Christopher Lee, couldn’t live up to the original.
But I had hopes when I saw the trailer for Ari Aster’s
Midsommar, which explores somewhat
similar themes in the setting of a remote Swedish midsummer ritual. And for once I was happily rewarded, as I
found it at times intense, trippy, creepy, gory, and haunting. It may lack the wonderful soundtrack of
Hardy’s Wicker Man, but the characters
are more complicated than the stereotypes of the former, and some of the
imagery stays with you long after the movie has ended.
The plot begins painfully slowly, as the characters
are introduced. The central character,
Dani, is devastated when her family dies tragically. Her boyfriend, Christian, a struggling
post-graduate student, has been contemplating breaking up with her, but the
tragedy prevents him from doing so.
Christian has neglected to tell her that he’s joining his friends for a
trip to a Midsummer festival at the remote village of Harga in Sweden, which
causes more uncertainty in their relationship.
He placates her by inviting her along, hoping that she won’t follow
through on the offer.
The friends include Josh, a fellow student who is
doing his thesis on indigenous Midsummer celebrations; Mark, an obnoxious young
man interested only in drugs and sex; and Pelle, a Swedish traveller from Harga,
who tries to bond with Dani, telling her that his own parents died in a fire,
and who manages to convince her to come along.
They’re joined in Harga by Connie and Simon, a British couple who have been
brought by another one of the villagers.
After they get to the site, the group begins to
discover that things aren’t as innocent as they seem. While drug trips offer visions of connections
with nature, Dani undergoes disturbing dreams and flashbacks. Simon and Connie, upset by the gory goings-on,
leave the site under mysterious circumstances.
Pelle demonstrates various memory lapses, or is he manipulating the four
friends? Each of them become drawn into
various aspects of the life of the village and its rituals, which doesn’t bode
well for most of them. And while one can
see where this is all headed, there’s suspense in the what and when and how.
As with the original Wicker Man, the art direction is rich in detail, with disturbing murals
depicting the mythology associated with the rituals, runic motifs sewn into the
costumes and used throughout the village site and carved into ceremonial
stones. Still, the “village” looks more
like a stark cult compound than a working town, so a lot of the “local colour”
of Summerisle is missing here.
Director Ari Aster uses a lot of subtle and
not-so-subtle hints to suggest things aren’t as idyllic as they first seem. There are repeated inverted images, notably
in a striking helicopter crane shot as they approach the site. The outsiders are isolated in a number of
ways. They stand out with their
conventional dress against the more traditional costumes of the villagers. When they are seated at the outdoor dining
table shaped in the form of the rune Othila, they are at the bottom of the
rune, facing away from the head of the table. Early rituals are in uncaptioned
Swedish, and only explained later, if at all.
On perhaps a deeper level, there are certain
dissonances that may just be errors on the screenwriter’s part, but which still
add to the sense of foreboding. The
outsiders are told that this nine-day festival occurs once every ninety years
(note this would go counter to Norse heathenism, where things would more
appropriately happen in eights). Even
so, photographs on a wall indicate that the May Queen is chosen every year,
although why this is done in June is also confusing. We’re also told the village is a four-hour
drive north of Stockholm, yet the White Nights indicate they may be above the
Arctic Circle.
The two-and-a-half hour runtime can be a problem, as
in sections the plot runs ponderously slowly. The characters of Connie and Simon
are given very little to do, and seem to be there just to up the cast numbers
for the conclusion; removing them from the plot would have tightened up the
story a bit.
Rated R (surprise) for full-frontal nudity, sexuality,
drug use, and gory scenes. My rating:
Four pentacles out of five.
