Midsommar
Much of Ari Aster's Midsommar plays out like a sun-drenched companion to Hereditary: Both films are stories of mourning colored by the director’s fascination with occult practices and gross-out shocks. But by stretching the pace of his storytelling and allowing small veins of comedy to cut through the tension, Aster manages to get an even firmer hold on the audience. It’s a slow squeeze that gradually turns into a tight death grip, and when Aster finally lets go—via a stunner of a final shot—the relief and delight that follows is glorious.
by Robert Ham
