In Ari Aster’s vision of horror, grief blooms into ritualistic ecstasy, where endings are not conclusions but unholy coronations.

 

Ari Aster shattered expectations with his feature debuts, Hereditary (2018) and Midsommar (2019), two films that dissect the raw edges of mourning through the lens of cultish inevitability. By pitting the Graham family’s demonic inheritance against Dani’s pagan rebirth in a sunlit Swedish commune, Aster invites us to compare not just plot twists but profound psychological terrors. This analysis unravels their climactic rituals, revealing how Aster transforms personal loss into collective damnation.

 

  • How Hereditary‘s nightmarish decapitation sequence contrasts with Midsommar‘s floral May Queen crowning, both crowning grief’s sovereignty.
  • Aster’s mastery of daylight dread versus shadowy domestic horror, redefining psychological terror.
  • The cult mechanics in each film, where family fractures pave the way for otherworldly belonging.

 

Grief’s Shadowy Inheritance

In Hereditary, Ari Aster plunges viewers into the Graham household, where the death of matriarch Ellen unravels the family tapestry. Annie, played with ferocious intensity by Toni Collette, grapples with her mother’s cryptic legacy, which manifests through Charlie’s accidental decapitation and Peter’s possession. The film’s ending erupts in a tableau of horror: Annie’s self-inflicted beheading, her levitating form crowning Peter as Paimon’s vessel under the glow of a naked cultist atop a treehouse altar. This ritual is no mere satanic cliché; it symbolises the inheritance of madness, where grief’s weight compels surrender to ancient forces. Aster films this with claustrophobic precision, the camera lingering on Collette’s contorted face as familial bonds snap like brittle twigs.

The psychological scaffolding here draws from real-world bereavement studies, where loss triggers dissociative breaks akin to Annie’s sleepwalking fury. Yet Aster elevates it through occult lore, Paimon—a demon from the Ars Goetia—demanding a male host after failed female attempts. This gender inversion underscores the film’s undercurrent of matriarchal rage, with Ellen’s miniatures foreshadowing the orchestrated chaos. Compared to traditional possession tales like The Exorcist, Aster’s version internalises the horror, making the cult’s reveal feel like an organic outgrowth of suppressed trauma rather than external invasion.

Sound design amplifies this descent: Tobe Hooper-esque clacks and guttural whispers build to a crescendo of silence during the ascension, forcing audiences to confront the void left by grief. The miniature house set, a literal dollhouse of doom, mirrors the Grahams’ entrapment, its fiery destruction paralleling the biblical wrath in the finale. These elements coalesce in the ending, where Peter’s hollow-eyed bow signifies not victory but eternal subjugation, a psychological horror etched in familial DNA.

Sunlit Pagan Rebirth

Midsommar flips the script to blinding daylight, transplanting Dani’s nuclear family annihilation—via her bipolar sister’s murder-suicide—to the verdant Hårga commune. Florence Pugh’s Dani, initially a fragile mourner, evolves through hallucinatory rituals into the May Queen, her floral crown a perverse diadem amid Christian’s áttundan sacrifice. The ending frames her in serene command, smiling as her ex-boyfriend burns alive in a golden temple, his contortions visible through translucent walls. This ritual, rooted in Midsummer folklore, perverts fertility celebrations into a cathartic purge, where communal grief supplants individual isolation.

Aster’s Swedish idyll, filmed on location with authentic Hårga elders consulted, blends ethnography with nightmare. The May Queen election, involving ecstatic dances to exhaustion, crowns Dani for her emotional endurance, inverting Hereditary‘s involuntary possession. Where Peter’s enthronement is grotesque submission, Dani’s is ambiguous empowerment—a psychological pivot from victimhood to queenly detachment. Cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski’s wide lenses capture the commune’s symmetry, contrasting Dani’s inner turmoil with pastoral harmony, much like Ingmar Bergman’s folk-horror precedents in The Seventh Seal.

Bearing rituals expose the cult’s mechanics: elders’ cliff jumps model life’s cyclical end, preparing Dani for her relational autopsy. The film’s colour palette—vivid greens and yellows—bathes horror in beauty, making the bear-suited immolation a pagan fireworks display. Psychologically, this mirrors trauma bonding, where shared rites forge unbreakable ties, Dani’s final tears evaporating into triumphant gaze.

Ritual Parallels: Crowns of Damnation

Juxtaposing the endings reveals Aster’s ritual symmetry. Both climax in enthronements: Peter’s Paimon-hosted bow mirrors Dani’s floral levitation on the Maypole. Yet tonalities diverge—Hereditary‘s infernal treehouse versus Midsommar‘s sun-drenched meadow—highlighting Aster’s thesis on grief’s dual faces: nocturnal despair yielding to diurnal delirium. Cultists in both orchestrate via familial proxies; Charlie’s headless ghost in Hereditary echoes Hårga’s ancestral runes guiding Dani.

Symbolism binds them: decapitation in Hereditary severs rational ties, paralleling Christian’s evisceration as relational excision. Pugh’s wail-to-wisdom arc echoes Collette’s rage-to-ruin, both women catalysing the horror. Aster draws from Jungian archetypes, where cults represent the shadow self’s embrace, grief as initiator into collective unconscious. These rituals critique isolationist mourning, positing communal madness as false salve.

Performance-wise, Collette’s physicality—smashing her own head—contrasts Pugh’s expressive subtlety, her hyperventilating sobs evolving to regal poise. Ensemble dynamics amplify: Alex Wolff’s haunted Peter versus Jack Reynor’s oblivious Christian, both sacrificial lambs to matriarchal ascent.

Cult Psychology: From Family to Fellowship

Aster’s cults transcend genre tropes, embodying psychological cults of personality. In Hereditary, Ellen’s Paimon devotees infiltrate via therapy-speak, gaslighting Annie into complicity. Midsommar‘s Hårga employs psychedelic empathy, dosing outsiders to erode boundaries. Both exploit grief’s vulnerability, offering purpose amid chaos—Paimon’s kingship for legacy, May Queen for rebirth.

Folk horror roots abound: Hereditary nods to The Wicker Man‘s pagan undercurrents, while Midsommar literalises them. National contexts enrich: American domesticity crumbling versus European communalism reclaiming Dani from Yankee individualism. Gender politics simmer—women as conduits, men as vessels—questioning empowerment’s cost.

Audience reactions underscore impact: Hereditary‘s walkouts from intensity, Midsommar‘s divisive ‘feel-bad happy ending’. Box office triumphs—A24’s mid-budget hits spawning memes—affirm cultural permeation.

Cinematography and Sound: Tools of Transcendence

Pogorzelski’s work unifies the diptych: slow dollies in Hereditary‘s miniatures expand to Midsommar‘s expansive fields, trapping subjects in frames of fate. Lighting pivots from dim fluorescents to eternal summer, yet shadows lurk—candle flames birthing demons, flower petals veiling gore.

Bobby Krlic’s scores—discordant strings in Hereditary, folk choirs in Midsommar—ritualise soundscapes. Whispers evolve to choral swells, mirroring grief’s amplification. These craft immersive psychodrama, influencing successors like The Witch.

Legacy of Aster’s Grief Cycle

Sequels and echoes proliferate: Hereditary‘s prequel teases, Midsommar director’s cut deepens. Aster’s Beau is Afraid (2023) extends maternal cults. Critically, they redefine A24 horror, blending arthouse with shocks, inspiring Smile‘s traumas.

Production tales reveal grit: Hereditary‘s set fire accidental omen, Midsommar‘s Hungary shoot under relentless sun mirroring narrative. Censorship dodged graphic cuts, preserving ritual purity.

Director in the Spotlight

Ari Aster, born 21 July 1986 in New York City to a Jewish family with roots in Poland and Ukraine, grew up immersed in horror classics courtesy of his filmmaker father. He studied film at the American Film Institute, crafting shorts like The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011), a provocative Oedipal tale that premiered at Slamdance and caught A24’s eye. His thesis film Beau (2014) explored absurdity, but it was Hereditary (2018)—written post-personal loss—that launched him, grossing $82 million on $10 million budget, earning Collette an Oscar nod.

Midsommar (2019) followed, a daylight counterpoint grossing $48 million, with Pugh’s breakout. Beau is Afraid (2023), starring Joaquin Phoenix, delved into maternal paranoia, costing $35 million and dividing critics. Upcoming projects include Eden, a survival horror with Sydney Sweeney. Influences span Polanski, Kubrick, and Bergman; Aster champions long takes for emotional immersion. Awards include Gotham nods; he’s married to filmmaker Isabella Summers, blending personal grief into oeuvre.

Filmography highlights: The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011, short: incestuous revenge); Beau (2014, short: surreal journey); Hereditary (2018: demonic family saga); Midsommar (2019: pagan breakup horror); Beau is Afraid (2023: epic Oedipal odyssey). TV: Ms. 45 remake pilot (unproduced). Aster’s style—grief as cosmic horror—positions him as millennial horror’s auteur.

Actor in the Spotlight

Florence Pugh, born 3 January 1996 in Oxford, England, to a restaurateur father and dancer mother, honed acting at local theatres despite dyslexia challenges. Spotted in The Falling (2014), she exploded with Midsommar (2019), her raw Dani earning BAFTA Rising Star. Post-Oxford High School, she tackled Lady Macbeth (2016), winning BIFA for vengeful Katherine.

Hollywood beckoned: Fighting with My Family (2019, WWE biopic); Little Women (2019, Oscar-nominated Amy); Marvel’s Black Widow (2021, Yelena Belova, spin-off secured). Don’t Worry Darling (2022) sparked buzz; Oppenheimer (2023) as Jean Tatlock added gravitas. Dune: Part Two (2024, Princess Irulan) expands franchise. Awards: three BAFTA noms, MTV Movie Award. Personal: dated Zach Braff, now Olivier Cooke; produces via Boxed Wine Fighters.

Filmography: The Falling (2014: school hysteria); Lady Macbeth (2016: murderous bride); Midsommar (2019: grief queen); Little Women (2019: March sister); Mank (2020: Pola Negri); Black Widow (2021: assassin); Hawkeye (2021, series: Yelena); The Wonder (2022: fasting nurse); Oppenheimer (2023: physicist lover); Dune: Part Two (2024: imperial princess). Pugh’s ferocity suits Aster’s women, blending vulnerability with steel.

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Bibliography

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