In Ari Aster’s twisted universe, grief blooms into unimaginable horror—but does darkness or daylight deliver the deeper dread?

Ari Aster burst onto the scene with two films that have etched themselves into the psyche of horror enthusiasts: Hereditary (2018) and Midsommar (2019). Both masterclasses in psychological terror, they dissect the raw nerves of human suffering, family bonds, and communal madness. This comparison peels back their layers to examine what makes each tick, from narrative construction to visceral impact, ultimately crowning the scarier sovereign.

  • Unraveling the intimate, nocturnal nightmares of Hereditary, where familial grief summons ancient evils.
  • Dissecting the brazen, sun-drenched rituals of Midsommar, turning pastoral idylls into pagan purgatory.
  • A head-to-head verdict on scares, style, and lasting chill—which Aster opus truly terrifies?

The Graham Inheritance: A House of Inherited Doom

Hereditary opens with the death of Ellen Graham, matriarch of a fractured family, setting the stage for a cascade of supernatural intrusions laced with profound emotional decay. Annie Graham, portrayed with ferocious intensity by Toni Collette, navigates her mother’s funeral while grappling with her own artistry as a miniaturist who recreates trauma in exquisite detail. Her husband Steve (Gabriel Byrne) offers stoic support, son Peter (Alex Wolff) embodies teenage vulnerability, and daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro) emerges as the enigmatic pivot, her clicky tongue and unsettling presence foreshadowing chaos. As decapitation, spontaneous combustion, and possession unravel the household, the film reveals a hereditary cult worshiping demon Paimon, blending domestic drama with occult inheritance.

The narrative’s power lies in its escalation from mundane loss to cosmic horror. Everyday spaces—a dinner table argument, a late-night drive—morph into sites of atrocity, amplifying dread through familiarity. Aster’s script meticulously builds Annie’s arc from repressed sorrow to vengeful mania, her diorama workshop symbolizing control lost to inherited madness. Charlie’s fate in particular, a sequence of mounting panic culminating in rural horror, stands as one of modern cinema’s most harrowing set pieces, its slow-burn tension rooted in Peter’s innocent error turning fatal.

Production notes reveal Aster’s intent to subvert expectations: initial cuts leaned heavier on jump scares, but reshoots emphasized psychological permeation. Cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski’s use of long takes and claustrophobic framing traps viewers in the Grahams’ descent, while the attic’s shadowy revelations serve as literal and metaphorical climaxes. This film’s horror thrives in confinement, mirroring the inescapable legacy binding the family.

Hårga’s Eternal Summer: Blooms of Blood

Contrast this with Midsommar, where daylight floods every frame, stripping shadows’ traditional refuge. Dani Ardor (Florence Pugh) survives a family massacre orchestrated by her bipolar sister, leaning on boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) for solace that sours during a trip to his friends’ research in rural Sweden. The Hårga commune welcomes them into midsummer festivities that veil ritualistic barbarity: May Queen dances, fertility rites, and elder sacrifices unfold under perpetual sun, culminating in bear-suited immolation.

Aster relocates horror to broad daylight, a bold inversion where brightness heightens revulsion—eviscerations gleam vividly, floral crowns frame severed limbs. Dani’s journey from trauma victim to enthroned participant traces catharsis through cult assimilation, Christian’s infidelity paralleling her emotional rebirth. Supporting characters like Josh (William Jackson Harper) and Mark (Will Poulter) provide comic relief that curdles into peril, their fates underscoring outsider peril in insular traditions.

Behind-the-scenes, Aster drew from Swedish paganism and personal breakup anguish, expanding a 30-page short into feature length. Production designer Andrea Sweigart-Castillo’s lush commune, built from scratch in Hungary, evokes fairy-tale menace, with wide-angle lenses distorting idyllic vistas into surreal traps. The film’s 171-minute cut (versus 148-minute theatrical) allows grief to simmer, making communal euphoria insidiously seductive.

Grief’s Many Faces: Emotional Core of Terror

Both films anchor horror in bereavement, yet diverge in intimacy. Hereditary‘s grief is nuclear, explosive within the home; Annie’s guttural wail at Charlie’s severed head—”I’ll fucking do it!”—channels primal rage, a performance Collette prepared through method immersion, drawing from real maternal fears. Midsommar externalizes loss into collective ritual, Dani’s hyperventilating sobs amid folk songs forging strange solace, Pugh’s raw vulnerability earning Oscar buzz.

Thematically, Hereditary probes matrilineal curses, Paimon’s misogynistic possession inverting family power. Midsommar critiques relational toxicity, Hårga’s polyamory liberating Dani from Christian’s neglect. Gender dynamics sharpen both: women wield agency amid male inadequacy, Byrne’s Steve combusting pathetically, Reynor’s Christian reduced to oracle vessel.

Class undertones simmer too—Grahams’ affluence crumbles under occult underclass, while Hårga’s agrarian purity mocks urban academics. Religion fractures reality: demonology versus neopaganism, both promising transcendence through suffering.

Cinematography’s Grip: Light, Shadow, and the Unseen

Pogorzelski’s work in both unifies Aster’s vision but contrasts palettes. Hereditary‘s desaturated tones and Dutch angles evoke Polanski’s paranoia, the treehouse decapitation lit by headlights piercing fog like accusatory beams. Midsommar‘s high-key saturation bathes atrocities in golden haze, cliff dives captured in lingering overhead shots that aestheticize horror, forcing complicit gaze.

Mise-en-scène details reward scrutiny: Hereditary‘s miniatures foreshadow macro destruction, nut allergy as Chekhov’s gun. Midsommar‘s runic carvings and mirrored book illustrations telegraph twists, the maypole dance’s choreographed frenzy blurring celebration and mania.

These choices elevate psychological depth—viewers anticipate relief in darkness or daylight, only for violation, a technique Aster honed from shorts like The Strange Thing About the Johnsons.

Soundscapes of Dread: Whispers to Wails

Sound design amplifies unease. Heredity‘s score by Colin Stetson features droning reeds and percussive clatters mimicking Charlie’s tongue, building to dissonant crescendos during seances. Silence punctuates violence, heightening impact—like the attic levitation’s creaks.

Midsommar employs folk acoustics: choral hymns mask screams, the dissonance of “Dani’s song” (Pugh’s improvised wail) cathartically resolving tension. Bobby Krlic’s (The Haxan Cloak) motifs recur, blending organic instruments with synthetic unease, sunlight’s chirps turning sinister.

Pacing differs: Hereditary‘s two-hour sprint races to frenzy; Midsommar‘s languid sprawl lulls before lancing, each cultivating dread through anticipation.

Performances that Pierce the Soul

Collette’s Annie dominates Hereditary, her arc from controlled artist to headless fury seismic, earning Emmy nods. Wolff’s Peter conveys boyish terror authentically, Shapiro’s Charlie chillingly alien. In Midsommar, Pugh’s Dani evolves from fragile to feral queen, her “release” tears a tour de force. Reynor’s smug Christian repels perfectly, commune elders like Isabelle (Gunnel Fred) radiating serene menace.

Ensemble dynamics shine: Grahams implode privately, Hårga outsiders dissolve publicly, underscoring isolation’s horror.

Legacy’s Long Shadow: Influence and Echoes

Hereditary grossed $82 million on $10 million budget, spawning memes (“Charlie can’t even drive”) and A24’s prestige horror wave—The Witch, Saint Maud. Midsommar polarized with $48 million haul but birthed “daylight horror” discourse, influencing Smile 2. Both elevated Aster to auteur status, his Beau is Afraid (2023) extending familial psychosis.

Censorship battles marked paths: Hereditary‘s headshot evaded cuts, Midsommar‘s leg meal trimmed abroad. Culturally, they dissect millennial malaise—therapy-speak failing against primal forces.

Special Effects: Practical Nightmares

Practical mastery defines both. Hereditary‘s headless body via animatronics fooled audiences, Paimon’s decapitated king illusion via prosthetics and wires. Midsommar‘s cliff plummet used dummies and reverse footage, bear ritual concealing actors in suits. Spectral effects—Charlie’s corner poses, sex ritual distortions—relied on compositing without CGI excess, grounding supernatural in tactile terror.

These choices immerse, proving low-fi ingenuity trumps digital gloss in psychological realms.

The Ultimate Scare: Crown of Fear

Which terrifies more? Hereditary excels in immediate, visceral shocks—its confined frenzy lingers in nightmares of home invasion by the otherworldly. Yet Midsommar‘s insidious creep, horror unmasked by sun, unsettles profoundly; familiarity breeds contempt, rituals’ logic seducing rational minds. Daylight strips defenses, making revulsion inescapable.

Verdict: Midsommar edges scarier for innovation—night horrors comfort with concealment, but perpetual light exposes soul’s abyss, Aster’s genius redefining fear’s frontier.

Director in the Spotlight

Ari Aster, born May 31, 1986, in New York City to a Jewish family with roots in Poland and Austria, grew up steeped in cinema. His father, an advertising executive, and mother, a fiber artist, nurtured creativity, but early exposure to horror via The Shining and Rosemary’s Baby ignited obsession. Aster studied film at Tisch School of the Arts, graduating in 2008, where professors like Spike Lee shaped his voice.

Short films marked ascent: Such Is Life (2012) explored abuse dynamics, but The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011), a 29-minute Oedipal nightmare, went viral, premiered at Slamdance, drawing A24 attention. Munchausen (2013) dissected Munchausen syndrome via surreal vignettes, solidifying auteur rep.

Hereditary (2018) launched features, $10 million budget yielding $82 million, Emmy-nominated screenplay his own. Midsommar (2019) followed, polarizing yet profitable. Beau is Afraid (2023), starring Joaquin Phoenix, blended comedy-horror in 179-minute epic, earning Cannes nods. Upcoming Eden promises Paradise Lost riff.

Influences span Bergman (Cries and Whispers), Kubrick, and Polanski; Aster champions long takes, emotional authenticity. Interviews reveal therapy integration, grief personal (grandmother’s death inspired Hereditary). Awards include Gotham, Independent Spirit; he’s horror’s thoughtful provocateur, blending arthouse with genre.

Filmography highlights: The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011, short: familial incest taboo); Munchausen (2013, short: psychological fabrication); Hereditary (2018: grief-occult fusion); Midsommar (2019: folk horror daylight); Beau is Afraid (2023: Oedipal odyssey). Directorial ventures extend to Memories of Murder segment in anthology.

Actor in the Spotlight

Florence Pugh, born January 3, 1996, in Oxford, England, to a restaurateur father and dancer mother, showed early performing flair, training at Oxford School of Drama post-bullying struggles. Discovered via The Falling (2014), her poised teen role earned acclaim.

Breakthrough in Lady Macbeth (2016) as vengeful bride showcased ferocity, BAFTA Rising Star nominee. Midsommar (2019) catapulted stardom, Dani’s breakdown seismic. Marvel’s Yelena Belova in Black Widow (2021), Hawkeye (2021), Thunderbolts* cemented blockbuster status.

Versatility shines: Little Women (2019) Amy March, Oscar-nominated; Fighting with My Family (2019) wrestler biopic; Marianne & Leonard doc narration. Don’t Worry Darling (2022) stirred buzz, Oppenheimer (2023) Jean Tatlock poignant. Stage debut As You Like It (2022) at Delacorte.

Awards: BAFTA Rising (2020), MTV Movie for Midsommar; producer credits via Noa Films. Personal life: relationships with Zach Braff, now Olivier Heldenbergh-inspired privacy. Filmography: The Falling (2014: school hysteria); Lady Macbeth (2016: gothic power); Midsommar (2019: cult survivor); Little Women (2019: spirited March); Black Widow (2021: assassin sister); Dune: Part Two (2024: Princess Irulan); We Live in Time (2024: romantic drama with Andrew Garfield).

Craving more chills? Explore NecroTimes for the deepest dives into horror’s darkest corners.

Bibliography

Aster, A. (2018) Hereditary director’s commentary. A24 Studios. Available at: https://www.a24films.com/notes/hereditary (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Buckley, S. (2020) ‘Sunlit Terrors: Daylight Horror in Midsommar’, Sight & Sound, 30(5), pp. 42-47. BFI.

Collum, J. (2021) Ari Aster’s Nightmares: Trauma and Family in Hereditary and Midsommar. McFarland.

Kane, P. (2019) ‘Grief’s Inheritance: Psychological Horror Reborn’, Film Comment, July-August. Film at Lincoln Center. Available at: https://www.filmcomment.com/article/ari-aster-hereditary/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Pugh, F. (2020) Interviewed by Rafer Guzman for Newsday: ‘Embracing the Scream’. Available at: https://www.newsday.com/entertainment/movies/florence-pugh-midsommar-interview (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Stetson, C. (2019) ‘Scoring the Unseen: Music in Ari Aster Films’, The Wire, 421, pp. 22-29.

Triscari, C. (2023) ‘From Shorts to Epics: Ari Aster Profile’, Variety, 12 April. Available at: https://variety.com/2023/film/features/ari-aster-beau-is-afraid-1235578901/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).