MIDSOMMAR

We revisit the year’s best horror movie, and chat to director Ari Aster.

FILM EXTRAS OUT 28 OCTOBER DVD, BD, Digital HD EXTRAS Featurette, Director’s Cut (BD)

Ari Aster’s follow-up to shattering 2018 debut Hereditary is not as scary, leaving weekend multiplex crowds disappointed. But its vaulting ambition, scale, pace, tone and ability to clog sun-soaked images with motes of dread show an auteur attaining a whole new level; Midsommar is one of the great horror films of the decade. And, like Hereditary, Aster’s sophomore film is concerned with grief and pagan rituals.

It opens in the US, with Dani (Florence Pugh) undergoing a horrific family tragedy before her longtime boyfriend, Christian (Jack Reynor), invites her to join him and pals Josh (William Jackson Harper), Mark (Will Poulter) and Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) on a trip to Sweden. They’re visiting a quaint commune in Pelle’s ancestral home in Hälsingland, to attend a nineday festival in celebration of the summer solstice. It is no spoiler to say that what begins in enchantment ends in terror.

‘Predictable’ was the charge laid in some quarters, but Aster knows what he’s doing, leaving a trail of narrative breadcrumbs (even if you haven’t seen The Wicker Man, the action to come is presented in background photos and murals) to better surprise us with the emotional tenor of his psychodrama. It is here that shocks and mastery lurk, as Midsommar blends anxiety and awe, terror and transcendence, the horrific and cathartic, to torch expectations.

Amid the flower-embroidered white robes, the song and dance, al fresco feasting, all-natural hallucinogens and arcane rituals – all rendered spellbindingly mysterious, even as they’re observed in anthropological detail – unfurls a drama of toxic masculinity and American entitlement. But Midsommar is first and foremost a break-up movie, with Aster chiselling into the cracks of Dani and Christian’s relationship to widen the emotional and physical space between them.

The Director’s Cut, included on the Blu-ray, adds a couple of scenes between Dani and Christian that are more openly combative than any in the theatrical cut. Elsewhere, all of the main protagonists get bonus character beats, the primary effect being to crystallise Christian’s douchebaggery and bring the climax into sharper focus. In so doing, a little of the ambiguity is sacrificed – some will view this as a good thing, others a shame.

Fifteen of the bonus 24 minutes go into one scene. It’s playful, perturbing, brilliantly played, but not strictly necessary given it does a similar job to the extraordinary Ättestupa ritual that plays just minutes before. Intriguingly, the new sequence takes place at night, therefore breaking the sunshine spell.

So which version is superior? Well, it really depends on how much time you want to spend in this entrancing, alarming world. The DC is, as Aster says, “the fuller picture”, but it adds here, lessens there, and is no radical shake up like we’ve previously seen with, say, Ridley Scott’s revision of Blade Runner or James Cameron’s reworking of The Abyss.

But one thing is for sure: both cuts are masterpieces, making this double bill a must-own package. Jamie Graham