Amid sunlit meadows and candlelit feasts, modern cults seduce with ritual and reveal the abyss of human fanaticism.

In the evolving landscape of horror cinema, few subgenres capture the zeitgeist quite like cult horror. Films such as Midsommar (2019), The Menu (2022), and Apostle (2018) stand as towering achievements, blending folk traditions, psychological dread, and visceral gore to dissect the allure and terror of blind devotion. These works transcend mere scares, probing the fragility of reason when confronted by communal madness.

  • Exploring the folk horror revival through sun-drenched rituals in Midsommar and rain-soaked fanaticism in Apostle.
  • Unpacking the satirical bite of The Menu, where elite indulgence spirals into cannibalistic horror.
  • Tracing shared themes of grief, isolation, and transcendence that bind these films into a modern cult horror trinity.

Shadows of Devotion: Cults in Midsommar, The Menu, and Apostle

Sunlit Sacrifices: Folk Horror Reborn

Folk horror, with its roots in rural isolation and pagan rites, finds vivid renewal in Ari Aster’s Midsommar. Dani (Florence Pugh), reeling from familial tragedy, joins her boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) on a trip to a remote Swedish commune. What begins as a colourful midsummer festival devolves into a meticulously choreographed nightmare of blood eagles and cliffside plunges. Aster bathes the atrocities in relentless daylight, subverting the genre’s shadowy tropes. The Hårga cult’s floral crowns and communal dances mask a fertility cult demanding human offerings, forcing viewers to confront horror in broad illumination.

This inversion of darkness speaks to broader anxieties about community versus individuality. Dani’s arc, from grieving outsider to enthroned May Queen, illustrates the seductive pull of belonging. Pugh’s raw performance, oscillating between hysteria and catharsis, anchors the film’s emotional core. The commune’s elders, with their inscrutable smiles, embody a matriarchal order that devours the young and unfit, echoing ancient myths of harvest gods.

Gareth Evans’s Apostle transplants similar dread to a storm-lashed Welsh island circa 1905. Thomas Richardson (Dan Stevens), a missionary sent to rescue his sister from the cult led by Fagin Prophet (Michael Sheen), uncovers a symbiotic religion worshipping a sentient, mud-dwelling goddess. The cult’s practices—sacrificial milkings and heretic burnings—pulse with grotesque vitality. Evans, known for kinetic action, here favours brooding atmosphere, using the island’s claustrophobic caves and forests to amplify paranoia.

Both films revive the folk horror triad of landscape, ritual, and disturbance, as theorised in critical discourse on the genre. The unnatural communion with nature—whether Sweden’s endless summer or the island’s writhing deity—signals humanity’s hubris against primal forces. These settings are not backdrops but characters, their beauty belying lethal intent.

Haute Cuisine from Hell

Mark Mylod’s The Menu shifts the cult paradigm to a hyper-exclusive island restaurant, Hawthorn, where Chef Slowik (Ralph Fiennes) orchestrates a final, fatal meal for oblivious gourmands. Anya Taylor-Joy’s Margot, a last-minute escort, navigates the escalating absurdity: s’mores ignited with employee blood, a menu revealing personal sins. The film’s satire skewers foodie culture, transforming fine dining into a death cult where consumption literalises exploitation.

Fiennes imbues Slowik with messianic fervour, his precise diction and theatrical flourishes turning recipes into sermons. The ensemble—Nicholas Hoult’s pretentious foodie, Hong Chau’s unflinching Elsa—populates a microcosm of privilege ripe for immolation. Mylod, drawing from his television pedigree, layers tension through escalating courses, each dish a step toward apocalypse.

Unlike the rural isolation of its companions, The Menu thrives in artificial confines, the kitchen’s fluorescent glare mirroring corporate cults. The chef’s manifesto decries commodified art, culminating in a communal blaze that devours the diners. This urban folk horror variant critiques modernity’s appetites, where the elite feast on the world’s labours until the menu demands reciprocity.

Ritual and Ruin: Shared Nightmares

Across these films, cults promise rebirth through destruction. In Midsommar, Dani’s integration heals her trauma via collective mourning, yet at the cost of outsiders’ lives. Apostle‘s goddess sustains the flock through harvested blood, her tentacles a metaphor for invasive faith. The Menu parodies this with Slowik’s ‘perfect’ last supper, where death forges authenticity.

Grief propels protagonists: Dani’s family slaughter, Thomas’s lost love, Margot’s implied past. Cults exploit this void, offering purpose amid chaos. Gender dynamics emerge starkly—women as vessels in Midsommar and Apostle, rebels in The Menu. Pugh and Taylor-Joy’s heroines subvert victimhood, claiming agency amid carnage.

Class undercurrents bind the triad. Hårga preys on academics, the island cult on urban interlopers, Hawthorn on the wealthy. These invasions disrupt insular economies, provoking ritual reprisal. Such narratives reflect historical fears of urban corruption tainting rural purity, inverted for contemporary resonance.

Cinematography’s Cruel Embrace

Visual mastery elevates these horrors. Pawel Pogorzelski’s wide lenses in Midsommar dwarf humans against vast fields, symmetrical compositions underscoring fatal inevitability. Evans employs Dutch angles and slow pans in Apostle to evoke instability, the goddess’s lair a chiaroscuro nightmare. The Menu‘s David Suski crafts sterile elegance, close-ups on glistening ingredients foreshadowing viscera.

Sound design amplifies unease. Midsommar‘s folk hums and shrieks blend euphoria with dread; Apostle‘s squelching mud and chants immerse in filth; The Menu‘s clinking cutlery crescendos to screams. These aural tapestries ensnare audiences in the cults’ thrall.

Effects That Linger

Practical effects ground the gore. Midsommar‘s leg-baring ritual uses prosthetic wizardry, the bear suit a tactile horror. Apostle‘s goddess, a colossal animatronic, writhes convincingly, her spawn bursting from flesh with visceral squelches. The Menu favours minimalism—charred bodies and squirting blood fountains suffice for punchy impact.

These choices prioritise authenticity over CGI excess, heightening revulsion. Legacy effects influence remakes and homages, proving handmade horror’s enduring power.

From Festival to Forever: Cultural Echoes

Midsommar ignited folk horror’s resurgence, spawning memes and academic panels. Apostle, Netflix’s sleeper, drew Raid fans to slow-burn terror. The Menu resonated post-pandemic, its isolation satire timely. Together, they expand cult horror beyond Hammer-era witchcraft, incorporating global influences and social critique.

Influence ripples: Aster’s style informs A24’s prestige horrors; Evans bridges action-horror; Mylod elevates culinary thrillers. These films endure, their cults haunting collective psyche.

Director in the Spotlight

Ari Aster, born in 1986 in New York City to Jewish parents with roots in Israel and Iceland, emerged as horror’s new auteur with Hereditary (2018). Raised in a creative household, he studied film at Santa Fe University before earning an MFA from AFI Conservatory. Aster’s thesis short, The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011), tackled abuse with unflinching intimacy, signalling his penchant for familial rupture.

His feature debut Hereditary shattered box office expectations, blending grief horror with occult frenzy, earning Toni Collette an Oscar nod. Midsommar followed, transposing darkness to daylight and cementing his reputation for emotional extremity. Influences span Ingmar Bergman—whose Cries and Whispers echoes in Aster’s reds—and David Lynch’s surrealism.

Aster’s oeuvre probes inheritance, literal and figurative: Beau Is Afraid (2023), starring Joaquin Phoenix, sprawls through maternal neuroses into mythic odyssey. Upcoming projects include Eden, a historical horror scripted by him. Awards abound—Emmy nomination for Beautiful Boy screenplay (2018)—yet Aster shuns genre confines, viewing horror as vessel for human depths.

Filmography highlights: The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011, short)—incestuous confrontation; Hereditary (2018)—grieving family’s demonic inheritance; Midsommar (2019)—Swedish cult’s daylight atrocities; Beau Is Afraid (2023)—absurdist maternal nightmare. His production company, Square Peg, fosters bold visions.

Actor in the Spotlight

Florence Pugh, born 1996 in Oxford, England, rose from theatre roots to global stardom. Youngest of four, she trained at Bristol Old Vic Theatre School, debuting in The Falling (2014), earning BAFTA Rising Star. Her breakout, Lady Macbeth (2016), showcased feral intensity as a murderous bride.

Pugh’s horror turn in Midsommar propelled her: Dani’s wail remains iconic, blending vulnerability with ferocity. Versatility shines in Fighting with My Family (2019), Little Women (2019, Oscar-nominated), and MCU’s Yelena Belova in Black Widow (2021) and Hawkeye (2021). Romantic leads followed: Midsommar co-starred with Zach Braff, later Olivier Burke.

Recent triumphs include Oppenheimer (2023) as Jean Tatlock, Dune: Part Two (2024) Princess Irulan, and We Live in Time (2024) with Andrew Garfield. Awards: BAFTA (2019), MTV Movie (2020). Producing via No Ordinary Clothes, she champions independence.

Filmography: The Falling (2014)—hypnotic schoolgirl; Lady Macbeth (2016)—vengeful wife; Midsommar (2019)—grieving cult initiate; Little Women (2019)—fiery Amy March; Mank (2020)—journalist; Black Widow (2021)—assassin sister; The Wonder (2022)—nurse in famine Ireland; Oppenheimer (2023)—physicist lover; Dune: Part Two (2024)—imperial heir.

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Bibliography

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Jones, S. (2020) ‘The New Folk Horror: Landscape, Ritual and the Digital Age’, Horror Studies, 11(2), pp. 145-162.

Aster, A. (2019) Interview: ‘Daylight Horror’, Sight & Sound, September, pp. 34-37. Available at: https://www.bfi.org.uk/sight-sound (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Evans, G. (2018) ‘Directing Apostle’, Netflix Production Notes. Available at: https://www.netflix.com/tudum/articles/apostle-gareth-evans (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Newman, K. (2022) ‘The Menu: A Feast of Satire’, Empire Magazine, November, pp. 78-82.

Bradshaw, P. (2019) ‘Midsommar Review’, The Guardian, 5 September. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2019/sep/05/midsommar-review-florence-pugh (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Collum, J. (2021) Cult Cinema and the Sacred. Jefferson: McFarland.

Pugh, F. (2020) Interview: ‘Embracing the Scream’, Vogue, June. Available at: https://www.vogue.com/article/florence-pugh-midsommar-interview (Accessed: 15 October 2024).