Out goes Shaft and with it the possibility of another franchise (but maybe another remake in twenty years) and in comes the latest horror/exercise in dread from Ari Aster, the director of Hereditary. I thought Hereditary was too long; not scary enough; and that its ending was derivative (see The Skeleton Key, Tale of the Mummy). But I did like its atmosphere and its chutzpah: killing Collette’s youngest so early and so unapologetically was a nice touch. Midsommar raises the same complaints for me that the previous did: it’s too long; it wasn’t scary; and the ending was derivative. But damned if it didn’t drip atmosphere and tension for a good chunk of the running time, and have the chutzpah to dispose of its roster of deserving idiot victims in such a contemptuous way.

The Wicker Man is one of my favorite movies. Especially in the extended version, there is something poetic about the duality versus Sergeant Howie’s devoutness to Christianity and Lord Summerisle’s to Paganism. That, and the famous ending, where Howie is toasted alive for the gods (and whose prayers can’t save him). When I saw the previews for Midsommar I was excited to see what Aster would do with this obvious homage, and for a while (almost four-fifths of its running time) he keeps you guessing his agenda all while ramping up the pressure with trippy audio and visual cues. On his command of the medium there is no question, and as an exercise in deliberateness, Midsommar is a triumph. Although it hits the 150-minute mark it is well paced and many scenes drag on just long enough to spellbind you into a Gaspar Noe-like trance, without the latter’s use of strobe thankfully.

Then the ending arrives, and the film fell apart for me. Aside from gutting the main characters and stuffing them to make human dolls and then burning them alive, it was still meant to shock and surprise and I was neither shocked nor surprised. Pelle had obviously lured them there to kill them as part of the festival and there was no question that Dani would “win” in the end, although I would hardly call her state of solidarity after ordering the execution of her boyfriend a “win”. But, we are talking about a new generation here. One that didn’t grow up with the kind of vile tripe I did. Kids who have never seen a horror movie before, traumatized by Hereditary, going to see this one next. Many will leave disappointed: too much atmosphere, too little plot, not enough gore. But it is “fucked up”, and there is something to be said for weirdness for weirdness sake. Aster does not get off that easily, though. He joins my list alongside Denis Villeneuve and Steve McQueen: directors who still haven’t found that perfect movie that displays all their talents. Until they do, I wonder what scattershot ideas Aster will blend together for his next exercise.