Midsommar

After a while, an unproductive restlessness sets in as you wait for the characters to matter as much as the silky moves and painstaking details. Horror

Midsommar is a waking nightmare and I mean that in the best possible way.

I was never, even for one second, feeling the length... I found it so unsettling and sinister. At moments it was a little uneven, but it's so watchable and gets under your skin in a really creepy way.

Indeed, it's cultural sensitivity that lies at the heart of this movie. It is not about serial killers, aliens or supernatural beings. It is about the ordinary humans we know as the Other because they come from somewhere else.

Ari Aster's approach to horror filmmaking seeps into your subconsciousness with great effect, lingering like an uninvited guest.

Even more than Hereditary, Midsommar lives on the edge where horror meets absurdity, prompting the kind of laughter that comes from not knowing how else to respond.

The performances from Florence Pugh and Jack Reynor are extraordinary, with both carrying two halves of Asters heart and reality.

As in his previous film, the familiar, spiritual and ritual outside the social canons of normativity will be present, as well as the horror genre fused with drama and mystery in that peculiar poetics that seems to characterize this autor.

Whether you love it or hate it, Midsommar is memorable. Florence Pugh carries the story on her shoulders with an astonishingly compelling performance, but her supporting cast didn't do much with their underdeveloped characters.

What’s particularly remarkable is the feeling of dread that Aster is able to sustain over most of Midsommar’s two-hour-plus running time. This despite the fact that virtually the entire story unfolds under sunny skies.