Midsommar

If you're like me, the first questions you ask your movie-going-partner after the credits roll and you walk toward the theater exit is: "Did you like the move?"

Nearly 24-hours after I watched Midsommar, I'm still stumped about how best to reply. Every time I try, it comes out sorta like:

"Well, I was absolutely horrified."

"It was kinda predictable, but I was transfixed."

"The cinematography was beautiful."

I'm not certain I liked the movie. In fact, I might be a little suspicious of anyone who liked the movie. But I can't stop thinking about it.

Ari Aster's pagan cult movie is beautifully filmed and speaks to the power of relationships. In fact, relationship is the heart of this movie: relationship with family and with lovers, and how it affects decision making; exchange and communal relationships, and how those systems create and affect beliefs and rituals; relationship with friends and acquaintances, and how those are affected by trust.

Midsommar ain't no ordinary horror flick.

The movie is not perfect, and I'm certain there are many who will hate it. Characters feel two dimensional, and the lack of character development makes the plot predictable early on. However, that predictability plays in the movie's favor -- the anticipation of what is to come adds to the distress and horror as the viewer rides that slow, emotional build until it reaches climax.

(No pun intended.)

I'm unsure if I liked Midsommar. But I'll remember Midsommar, and want to talk about Midsommar, for years.

And that makes for a great movie to me.