By: Keaton Marcus

Ari Aster's Midsommar, a controversial and provocative relationship drama masked by the cruel face of horror, was released two years ago to polarizing responses from audiences despite acclaim from critics. The infamous opening sequence, consisting of an intricate setup building until a harrowingly climactic inciting incident, is what I will attempt to break down here. Viewers look at these first 10 minutes and examine nothing but the most surface-level observations, missing the critical details that make it all so compelling and terrifying. These small but essential aspects construct true filmmaking mastery and spotlight what every aspiring director should study.

MURAL, LULL, SHOCK:

Subverting expectations right from the opening shot, Aster principally spoils his entire movie in the beginning. The entrance consists of a colorful, passionately drawn mural chronicling this whole movie in a rudimentary fashion. Then, the drawing doors open, giving way to various shots of peaceful, calming environments that place viewers in a state of unsettling comfortability. We have entered this fairy tale, and it's all shown visually. Reminiscent of desktop screens, audiences get their very temporary room to breathe. Several gorgeous shots populate the screen, coupled with a lulling, relaxing Swedish folk song. Then, seemingly out of oblivion comes a sharp ringing noise, alerting audiences and jolting them awake. Aster then brings us to a city filled with artificiality and houses, cutting closer and closer to our first genuine setting with each transition. Editor Lucian Johnston and cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski work with the director to slam us to the Ardor residence. A woman leaves a voice message as we pan over to her sleeping parents. Everything seems just fine, but once again, in a disconcerting and troubling manner. Something is off, and we are entirely unable to guess.

THE DANCE OF TENSION:

Then, we enter what I would like to dub a "dance of tension," swaying back and forth between casual normalcy and sheer mental and emotional stress. We cut to DANI, our main character, frantically checking her laptop after getting a disturbing message from her bipolar sister, TERRI. The E-Mail reads: "I can't anymore - everything's black - mom and dad are coming too - goodbye." Unsettling, right? But not too in your face that it relieves all tension from arresting viewers. With no response after several attempts to get a hold of her, Dani continues to panic internally. Notice how in only one minute of our protagonist being on-screen, Aster has effortlessly created an incredibly compelling drama more effectively than most filmmakers can do in an entire film. We are already shaking in our seats, unsure of what will occur next. Dani rings CHRISTIAN, her boyfriend, introduced in the next few shots, unable to control her emotions. For now, the camera holds on to Dani, attempting to mask her inner anxiety on the phone call. This is an exceptional filmmaking choice, providing an intimate moment between audiences and this unstable woman. After her call with him, she rings a girlfriend and talks to her for the next couple of minutes, venting and worrying. Then, Aster relieves us for a moment and cuts to Christian sitting at a restaurant, bickering with his friends. He feels trapped in their relationship, desperate but hesitant to break up due to the fragile condition she is in at the moment. Once more, this movie gives us room to breathe, but it never drops the tense atmosphere entirely, always keeping a certain sense of unease.

INCITING INCIDENT:

Then, Dani CALLS Christian, and he picks up, unaware of what will come next. Her piercing wails from the other end immediately shock viewers into a state of absolute and utter arrest. Something horrible is happening. The cries are quickly cut out by siren-mimicking violins. Aster subjects viewers to several horrifyingly long takes of inside the Ardor residence from the very beginning of the film. Firefighters gradually climb the stairs with caution, walking into the bedroom that consists of Dani's now-deceased parents. The body bags zip, and we get sucked into a steady, smooth pull-in to Terri, with her mouth crudely covered by a pipe and some duck tape, vomit spattered all over. She had committed suicide and murdered her two parents. I love how Pogorzelski and Aster's camera is constantly moving, taking us someplace unknown, almost easing us into inevitable terror. Instead of static after static, which is evidently what a more amateurish director would rely on, this film flips that entire convention upside down, traveling with each shot. The flow is smooth and expertly crafted, and another detail that made this whole sequence so shockingly brilliant. The sluggish, indolent pace of the reveal of Terri builds to a plateau that I have honestly never seen done in a superior fashion before. In both Hereditary and this, Aster and his lead actresses have captured a sense of authentic agony that carves a deep, black hole in our chests while watching.

THE CRY:

Christian, uneasy and unwilling, torpidly walks down the freezing street, hearing Dani's manic, animal screams from inside her apartment. The music embodies the sudden depression and hopelessness our main character is feeling. It's a deep sorrow that can only be realized with tragedy. As the camera pulls in from a wide of Christian holding Dani's limp, shuddering, and wailing body in his arms, the score begins to shift. Notice Christian's facial expressions. They are ones of regret and remorse and the realization that there is no ending the relationship anymore. He is trapped. The soundtrack is more violent, painful, and horrible. Drums and violins commence creating the sounds of pure evil, but still in a depressive sense. As Dani shrieks, look at the faint hints of siren lights tinting the window pane. It's a distinct symbol that the trauma Dani faces will always haunt her, flawlessly placed by Aster. The camera emerges into the snowstorm, and the now blaring music cuts out Dani's cries. We have entered complete chaos as the title credits roll.

A24 PRESENTS hits the screen and officially throws audiences into literal hell.