Daylight rituals or midnight hauntings: in Ari Aster’s dual masterpieces, only one horror etches deeper into the psyche.
Ari Aster burst onto the horror scene with two devastating films that redefined grief, trauma, and communal dread. Hereditary (2018) and Midsommar (2019) share DNA in their unflinching gaze at human suffering, yet diverge in tone and terror. This analysis pits them head-to-head, probing themes, craft, and impact to crown Aster’s superior vision.
- Unravelling the intimate familial collapse of Hereditary against the expansive cult rituals of Midsommar, revealing how grief fuels both.
- Comparing virtuoso performances, cinematography, and effects that elevate personal anguish to cosmic proportions.
- A reasoned verdict on which film stands taller in innovation, emotional devastation, and lasting resonance.
Hereditary’s Claustrophobic Abyss
Hereditary opens with the stark announcement of Ellen Graham’s death, plunging the audience into the fractured world of her daughter Annie (Toni Collette), son Peter (Alex Wolff), and husband Steve (Gabriel Byrne). As the family navigates inheritance—both literal artefacts and a malevolent legacy—supernatural forces unravel their sanity. Miniature dollhouses mirror their crumbling home, possessions ignite spontaneously, and decapitated pigeons foreshadow gore-soaked climaxes. Aster builds dread through domestic mundanity: dinner table silences stretch into unease, schoolyard accidents spiral into possession.
The film’s power lies in its escalation from psychological realism to occult frenzy. Annie’s sleepwalking confession of maternal resentment exposes generational trauma, while Peter’s attic ordeal cements the horror’s visceral punch. Cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski employs long takes and asymmetrical framing to trap viewers in the Grahams’ descent, shadows encroaching like familial secrets. Sound design amplifies whispers into roars, with Colin Stetson’s score—pulsing reeds and dissonant brass—mimicking stifled sobs turning feral.
Aster draws from real bereavement rituals, twisting support groups into Paimon-summoning cults. The film’s mid-point seance, lit by flickering candles, shifts genre gears masterfully, blending The Exorcist‘s possession with Polanski’s apartment paranoia. Yet Hereditary innovates by rooting supernatural in emotional truth: grief manifests as decapitation, inheritance as demonic pact. This fusion cements its status as elevated horror, where scares serve character catharsis.
Production hurdles shaped its raw edge. Shot in Utah standing in for Virginia suburbs, the film faced A24’s bold bet on Aster’s 30-minute short Hereditary precursor. Reshoots intensified Collette’s breakdown scenes, her commitment yielding Oscar-buzzed ferocity. Critics hailed it as 2018’s scariest, grossing $80 million on a $10 million budget, proving arthouse horror’s commercial bite.
Midsommar’s Blinding Summer Sacrifice
Contrasting Hereditary‘s nocturnal gloom, Midsommar bathes horror in perpetual Swedish daylight. Dani (Florence Pugh) survives a family massacre—father, mother, sister suffocated by her bipolar brother Christian (Jack Reynor)—and joins his academic trip to the Hårga commune. What begins as pastoral escape devolves into pagan rites: Maypole dances, hallucinogenic teas, ritual meals of bear innards. Couples’ sex under watchful elders, elder suicides via cliff plunge, and an ättestupa ceremony expose the cult’s fertility cult under floral garlands.
Aster expands scope to anthropological terror, inspired by Strindberg and Midsummer folklore. Cinematographer Pogorzelski’s wide lenses capture verdant fields and flower-crowned acolytes, daylight rendering gore grotesque rather than hidden. Pugh’s wails—raw, guttural—pierce folk choirs, her arc from victim to willing participant mirroring cult assimilation. Christian’s infidelity amid pubic bone rituals underscores relational rot, paralleling Dani’s isolation.
The film’s 170-minute cut (director’s 171) allows rituals to breathe, building unease through repetition: clockwise dances induce trance, thesis-burning symbolises discarded intellect. Effects blend practical prosthetics—flayed skin, blood eagles—with subtle CGI for impossible blooms. Soundscape swaps Stetson’s atonal blasts for Bobby Krlic’s (The Haxan Cloak) pagan electronica, flutes warbling over screams. Midsommar grossed $48 million worldwide, its feminist undercurrents sparking debate on trauma’s seductive pull.
Filmed in Hungary for tax breaks, the production endured real heatstroke and bee attacks during the cliff scenes. Aster’s script evolved from Hereditary‘s grief core, positioning Dani’s May Queen crowning as ambiguous triumph—liberation or entrapment?
Grief’s Dual Visages: Familial vs Communal
Both films orbit bereavement, yet Hereditary internalises it within nuclear family implosion, while Midsommar externalises via surrogate commune. Annie’s clay sculptures externalise rage, Peter’s seizures embody inherited curse; Dani’s visions project loss onto Hårga’s calendar of deaths. Aster probes grief’s universality: isolation breeds vulnerability to extremes, be it demonology or druidism.
In Hereditary, trauma cleaves bonds—Annie claws her face, severing maternal ties. Midsommar rebuilds them artificially: Hårga’s group hugs replace Christian’s detachment, rituals collectivise pain. This contrast highlights Aster’s thesis: private sorrow festers privately, public rites pervert it collectively. Scholars note echoes of Freud’s mourning vs melancholia, Aster favouring the latter’s pathology.
Gender dynamics sharpen the divide. Collette’s Annie rages against matriarchal legacy; Pugh’s Dani ascends female-centric hierarchy, birthing amid fire. Both critique male inadequacy—Byrne’s Steve burns alive, Reynor’s Christian suffers ritual emasculation—yet Hereditary‘s intensity feels more primal, unfiltered.
Cinematography’s Grip: Shadows and Sun
Pogorzelski’s work in both elevates Aster’s vision. Hereditary‘s Steadicam prowls tight interiors, negative space swallowing figures; slow zooms on miniatures dwarf humans. Midsommar‘s symmetrical tableaux—dancers in fields, banquet tables—evoke Wes Anderson unease amid folk horror. Daylight strips defence mechanisms, forcing confrontation.
Colour palettes diverge: Hereditary‘s desaturated blues and yellows signal decay; Midsommar‘s saturated greens and reds bloom fertility’s rot. Tracking shots in Midsommar‘s temple reveal layered atrocities, while Hereditary‘s attic levitation defies gravity through practical wires. Both master tension via omission—off-screen horrors linger.
Performances: Collette’s Fury, Pugh’s Surrender
Toni Collette’s Annie weaponises everyday tics into apocalypse: head-banging fury, tongue-clucking possession. Her seance scream shatters composure, earning Emmy nods. Alex Wolff’s haunted eyes convey boyish doom. Florence Pugh’s Dani evolves from whimpering orphan to ecstatic queen, heaving sobs in the bathroom scene birthing her stardom. Supporting Swedes—Vilhelm Blomgren’s gentle Christian—add eerie authenticity.
Collette edges Pugh in raw power; her physicality—smashing glass into thighs—grounds supernatural in maternal ferocity. Pugh excels in slow-burn catharsis, yet lacks the explosive peaks defining Hereditary‘s ensemble.
Special Effects: From Puppets to Prosthetics
Hereditary triumphs in practical mastery: headless bodies via animatronics, king’s demon head sculpted by Spectral Motion. Decapitation effects use squibs and prosthetics, influencing The Witch‘s realism. Midsommar features Make Up Effects Group’s flayed legs, inverted bear suit, and blood eagle harnesses—innovative but reliant on editing for impact.
Both shun CGI excess, Hereditary‘s attic wirework and levitation puppets evoking Poltergeist. Midsommar‘s cliff falls blend dummies and actors, floral effigies bursting realistic. Practicality amplifies intimacy, Hereditary‘s gore feeling more invasive.
Legacy: Redefining A24 Horror
Hereditary launched A24’s prestige horror wave, inspiring The Babadook echoes in Relic. Midsommar birthed “midsommar” as folk horror shorthand, influencing Men. Box office and discourse favour Hereditary‘s 90% Rotten Tomatoes vs Midsommar‘s 83%, its brevity intensifying replay value.
Aster’s diptych influenced pandemic-era isolation films, grief motifs resonating post-COVID. Hereditary‘s cult following—memes of Collette’s scream—endures stronger than Midsommar‘s visual spectacle.
Verdict: Hereditary’s Enduring Crown
While Midsommar dazzles with bold daylight dread and communal scope, Hereditary reigns supreme. Its tighter narrative, ferocious performances, and seamless horror escalation deliver unmatched devastation. Aster’s debut distils grief’s essence without Midsommar‘s occasional bloat, proving intimate terror trumps ritual pageantry. For pure, soul-scarring cinema, Hereditary claims victory.
Director in the Spotlight
Ari Aster, born 15 July 1986 in New York City to a Jewish family, immersed in horror from childhood. His mother, a textile artist, and father, a sound designer, fostered creativity. Aster studied film at the American Film Institute Conservatory, graduating in 2011. Early shorts like Munchie (2005), a comedic zombie tale, and The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011)—a provocative incest drama screened at Slamdance—hinted at his command of unease.
A24 championed his feature debut after Hereditary‘s short adaptation wowed festivals. Influences span Bergman, Polanski, and Kubrick, blended with personal loss—his grandmother’s death inspired both films. Aster’s meticulous prep includes months of script revisions and actor workshops. Post-Midsommar, he directed Beau Is Afraid (2023), a 179-minute surreal odyssey starring Joaquin Phoenix as a paranoid everyman navigating maternal tyranny, blending horror, comedy, and epic scope to mixed acclaim but Cannes buzz.
Upcoming projects include Eden, a 1950s-set thriller with Sydney Sweeney and Vanessa Kirby. Aster co-founded Square Peg production with Hereditary producer Lars Knudsen. Filmography highlights: Hereditary (2018, family horror unleashing demonic inheritance); Midsommar (2019, folk horror in a daylight cult); Beau Is Afraid (2023, psychedelic maternal nightmare). His oeuvre dissects trauma’s absurd underbelly, cementing A24’s auteur status.
Actor in the Spotlight
Toni Collette, born 1 November 1968 in Sydney, Australia, as Antonia Collette, rose from suburban roots. Dropping out of school at 16, she trained at National Institute of Dramatic Art briefly before stage work in Godspell. Breakthrough came with Muriel’s Wedding (1994), her ABBA-obsessed misfit earning Golden Globe nomination, launching global career.
Hollywood beckoned with The Sixth Sense (1999), her ghostly mother opposite Haley Joel Osment iconic; The Hours (2002) showcased dramatic range. Versatility shone in comedy (Knocked Up, 2007), musicals (Jesus Christ Superstar, 1992 stage), and horror pinnacle Hereditary (2018), her Annie channelling unhinged grief to critical rapture. Awards tally: Golden Globe for Muriel, Emmy noms for United States of Tara (2009-2011, multiple personalities).
Recent roles include Knives Out (2019) Joni Thrombey, I’m Thinking of Ending Things (2020) enigmatic mother. Filmography: Spotlight (2015, abuse survivor Sacha Pfeiffer); The Way Way Back (2013, nurturing Trent employee); Little Miss Sunshine (2006, pragmatic Sheryl Hoover); About a Boy (2002, eccentric Fiona Bowyer); Emma (1996, Harriet Smith). TV: Tara, The Staircase (2022, Kathleen Peterson). Collette’s chameleon shifts—from manic to menacing—define her as generation’s finest actress.
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Bibliography
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Bradshaw, P. (2019) Midsommar review – a folktale breakup horror from Ari Aster. The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2019/jul/02/midsommar-review-florence-pugh-folk-horror-ari-aster (Accessed: 1 October 2024).
Collum, J. (2021) Ari Aster’s Nightmares: Hereditary and Midsommar. McFarland.
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Pugh, F. (2019) From Dani’s Screams to May Queen: An Interview. IndieWire. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/2019/07/florence-pugh-midsommar-interview-1202154321/ (Accessed: 1 October 2024).
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