Exploring the Dark Realms: Steve's Journey Through Horror and Fantasy

Movie Review: Midsommar (2019) – Daylight Dread Done Right

Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5)

There’s a certain expectation that comes with modern horror. We’ve been trained to anticipate shadows, jump scares, and something lurking just out of sight. Midsommar, directed by Ari Aster, rejects all of that almost immediately. It places its horror squarely in the daylight—bright, pastoral, and unsettling in a way that sneaks up on you rather than crashing through the door.

I’ll be upfront: this isn’t the kind of horror film I grew up with. There’s no Freddy-style personality, no Chucky-like chaos, no comforting rhythm of setup and payoff. It’s slower. More deliberate. At times, it lingers longer than I’d prefer. But that patience is also where its power lies—and why it’s become such a culturally relevant film in the modern horror conversation.

A Different Kind of Horror Experience

At its core, Midsommar follows Dani (Florence Pugh), a young woman dealing with profound personal grief, who travels to Sweden with her emotionally distant boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) and his group of academic friends. What begins as an anthropological curiosity—a rare midsummer festival—gradually reveals itself as something far more disturbing.

The brilliance of the film is how it reframes what horror can look like. There’s no hiding here. Everything is exposed. The rituals, the people, the emotions—they’re all presented in stark, almost clinical daylight. That choice strips away the usual safety net. You can see everything clearly, and yet you’re still unsettled.

It’s not fear of the unknown. It’s fear of understanding exactly what you’re looking at.

Performances That Carry the Weight

If Midsommar works—and it absolutely does—it’s because of its performances.

Florence Pugh delivers a career-defining role as Dani. Her portrayal of grief is raw, uncomfortable, and deeply human. From the opening tragedy to the film’s final moments, she carries the emotional core of the story. You don’t just watch Dani—you feel her unravel, piece by piece. It’s a performance that anchors the film’s more surreal elements in something painfully real.

Jack Reynor’s Christian is equally important, though in a very different way. He embodies emotional detachment so convincingly that it becomes its own kind of tension. His passive, almost indifferent presence creates a dynamic that makes Dani’s vulnerability even more pronounced.

Supporting performances from actors like Vilhelm Blomgren and William Jackson Harper add to the sense of unease, particularly as their characters begin to interpret the Harga community through academic and rational lenses—lenses that ultimately fail them.

A Cult Story That Feels New Again

Cults in horror aren’t exactly new territory. We’ve seen them in everything from The Wicker Man to more modern interpretations. But Midsommar manages to make the concept feel fresh.

Instead of portraying the cult as overtly sinister from the outset, the Harga community is presented as welcoming, empathetic, and even comforting. Their rituals are strange, yes, but they’re also deeply communal. There’s a logic to everything they do, and that’s what makes it so unsettling.

You’re not watching a group of villains. You’re watching a fully realized belief system in action.

And at times, you understand why someone might be drawn to it.

Tension Through Patience

Here’s where the film may divide audiences—and where I found myself a bit conflicted.

Midsommar is slow. There’s no way around it. It takes its time establishing atmosphere, relationships, and thematic weight. For viewers used to faster-paced horror, that pacing can feel like a hurdle.

I’ll admit, there were moments where I wanted things to move just a bit quicker. The film lingers, sometimes to the point of discomfort. But in hindsight, that lingering is intentional. It’s part of the tension-building process.

Instead of quick scares, the film builds a sense of inevitability. You know something is wrong. You just don’t know how far it’s going to go.

And when it does go there, it hits harder because of that slow burn.

The Score: Melodrama Beneath the Surface

The score by Bobby Krlic (also known as The Haxan Cloak) deserves special attention. It doesn’t dominate the film in an obvious way, but it seeps into the experience, amplifying the emotional and psychological undercurrents.

There’s a kind of melancholic grandeur to the music. It mirrors Dani’s internal state—grief, confusion, and a desperate search for connection. At times, the score feels almost operatic, elevating the film’s more surreal moments into something strangely beautiful.

That underlying melodrama is crucial. It transforms what could have been a straightforward horror narrative into something more layered, more emotional, and ultimately more unsettling.

Reception and Cultural Impact

From a critical standpoint, Midsommar has been widely discussed and analyzed since its release.

• Rotten Tomatoes: ~83% critic score

• IMDb: ~7.1/10

Those numbers reflect a strong critical appreciation, even if general audiences are a bit more divided. It’s not a crowd-pleaser in the traditional sense, but it’s undeniably impactful.

And that’s where its cultural relevance comes into play.

This is a newer horror film—one I didn’t grow up with—but it’s already carved out a place in the genre. It’s part of a modern wave of “elevated horror” that focuses on theme, atmosphere, and emotional depth rather than just scares.

Whether you like that direction or not, it’s shaping what horror looks like today.

Final Thoughts

Midsommar isn’t an easy watch, and it’s not always an entertaining one in the traditional sense. It demands patience. It asks you to sit with discomfort. And at times, it moves slower than I’d personally prefer.

But it’s also one of the most distinctive horror films of the past decade.

Its take on cults feels fresh. Its tension-building is deliberate and effective. And its performances—especially Florence Pugh’s—are impossible to ignore.

This isn’t the kind of horror that made me fall in love with the genre growing up. But it’s the kind that reminds me the genre can still evolve, still surprise, and still find new ways to get under your skin.

Final Verdict: ★★★★☆ (4/5)

A slow-burning, emotionally charged horror film that trades jump scares for psychological depth. It may test your patience, but its originality, performances, and haunting atmosphere make it well worth the experience.