Kindness Comes at a Cost – Pelle
It’s important to note that Dani is mostly surrounded by men in the early parts of the film. All of Christian’s friends are men, so Dani doesn’t quite fit in with them. Only Pelle, who is from Hårga and invited them all to come see the festival, seems to care about Dani in a meaningful way. But Pelle’s intentions are not entirely altruistic. Several times throughout the film, Pelle questions Dani about her relationship with Christian. He asks her if she feels held, and she clearly does not. He tells her that he is glad most of all that she came to Hårga, because they have something there that she needs. His attentions are refreshingly empathetic, but there seems to be a sinister tinge beneath them. Though Pelle does want what’s best for Dani, he also seems to be in love with her himself. His character can trace its origins to the dejected best male friend trope, or, in more modern terms, the “friend-zoned one.” Pelle barely hides his distaste for how Christian treats Dani, and he even suggests to her that she deserves better. Pelle reminded me of all the men in my life who had been infatuated with the idea of me when I was with someone else. Beginning in my teenage years, there was always one male friend or another who clung to me in my hardest times, only to turn around and try to get in my pants the moment my guard was down. While Pelle doesn’t try anything sexual with Dani, he does manipulate her into giving him what he wants by ending her relationship with Christian. After the events of the film are over, it’s easy to imagine Pelle trying to engage in a romantic relationship with Dani. She is his May Queen, his perfect object of desire. While Pelle’s desires for Dani are more beneficial than Christian’s, he still doesn’t see her as a whole person. He imprints his own desires for their future upon her, even if that’s not what she might want without such heavy influence.
Scream With Me – The Women of Hårga
One of the first things I noticed about Hårga was that a woman seemed to be in charge. She follows the writings of their sacred, physically deformed prophet Ruben (Levente Puczkó-Smith), but Siv (Gunnel Fred) is clearly in charge. She wears a special red hairpiece that signifies her power over the rest of the clan. Red is the color of lust, blood, and power for the women in Hårga. After the virginal Maja (Isabelle Grill) seduces Christian through magic and/or psychedelic drugs and persuasion, we see her wearing a bodice embroidered through with red. Her lips are crimson, and she clearly has a new, more esteemed place among the women. The women of Hårga are to just as much blame for the murders of the grad students and manipulation of Dani as the men, but their methods feel more based in genuine empathy. They invite her to take part in women’s activities, baking meat pies together for lunch. It’s the first time we see Dani look truly relaxed and comfortable. There are no expectations of her beyond simple ones, and there is no reason for shame. She is just one of the women in a group, able to lose her broken identity for a moment to assimilate. Kitchens have long been the place where women share themselves with each other. One of my fondest memories during my own traumatic isolation was being invited to help make breakfast. We were living with a big family from a very different culture at the time, and I immediately jumped to the tasks I knew how to do. As I chopped onions and learned how to properly cook chorizo, the mother of the house and I chatted about anything and everything. I didn’t have to behave any certain way, and it was easy to fall into the domestic routines I had known since childhood. In that kitchen, I felt held. Better yet, the onions excused my tears. The women in Hårga share everything. When Maja and Christian have ritualistic sex, many of the elder women surround them, mimicking Maja’s pleasure and pain. They encourage Christian, with one of the oldest women even physically helping him in the act. There is no shame about sexuality or women’s pleasure, and the women themselves are the ones who choose lovers. Compared to the patriarchy of most of the rest of the world, this distinction seems important. This is a place where Dani might not have full control, but her autonomy has nothing to do with her gender/sex for the first time. After Dani discovers Christian having sex with Maja, she becomes violently distraught. She attempts to escape to solitude, as always, but the women of Hårga follow her. They begin screaming and crying with her. The women encircle her, making sure that she is literally held as she wails and grieves. While it’s possible to see this as additional manipulation, it felt to me like a ritual as old as time. Who hasn’t called their friends after a bad breakup for a pity party? Just as the women of the Hårga share the experience of sexual pleasure, they share Dani’s pain as well. They help her bear the load and remove her from her isolation.
The Catharsis of Dani’s Smile
While it can absolutely be argued that Dani exchanges one cage for another, there is something deeply cathartic about the final moments of Midsommar. Dani is asked to pick the final sacrifice and she chooses Christian, though not without some internal struggle. She watches him burn and sobs while the rest of Hårga go into the throes of mass hysteria around her. The camera focuses on her face as she cries, but in the final second, a hint of a smile curves her lips. That smile made me bark out a laugh that startled the poor woman sitting beside me in the theater. That smile symbolized finding joy again after so much pain. Even if that joy was brought about by something awful, it feels like a new beginning for Dani. She’s free from her bad relationship, free from her guilt, and free from her isolation. While Hårga may not be an ethical place, it is the right place for Dani to finally find peace. Many survivors of trauma have a difficult time integrating into the regular world. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can make social contracts especially challenging. Often, these survivors seek out unusual communities of their own, places where they don’t have to feel shame for their traumatic pasts or their current struggles. There are entire subcultures full of trauma survivors who came together for one reason or another, and many of these subcultures are viewed as deviant by the mainstream.Hårga is just an extreme example of these. Everything in Midsommar is taken to its most extreme, but there are real-life correlations that made me feel seen. They helped me process my own traumas and understand some of my life since, including some of the toxic friendships I’ve sought out to fix my shame. While I obviously don’t condone ritual murder or using psychedelics to manipulate people without their express consent, I found catharsis in Midsommar’s brutal ending. Where my other cathartic films starred badass action heroines, Dani was just a normal girl. I saw myself in her completely.As the credits rolled, I felt like the May Queen, no longer a whimpering victim. Dani’s journey left me raw, but also somehow healed. My own shame has been replaced with a flower crown – one I’m proud to bear.
‘Midsommar’: Ari Aster And Florence Pugh’s Complex, Climactic Catharsis
By Danielle Ryan/July 17, 2019 7:30 am EST
Together, But Alone – Christian and Dani
Kindness Comes at a Cost – Pelle
It’s important to note that Dani is mostly surrounded by men in the early parts of the film. All of Christian’s friends are men, so Dani doesn’t quite fit in with them. Only Pelle, who is from Hårga and invited them all to come see the festival, seems to care about Dani in a meaningful way. But Pelle’s intentions are not entirely altruistic. Several times throughout the film, Pelle questions Dani about her relationship with Christian. He asks her if she feels held, and she clearly does not. He tells her that he is glad most of all that she came to Hårga, because they have something there that she needs. His attentions are refreshingly empathetic, but there seems to be a sinister tinge beneath them. Though Pelle does want what’s best for Dani, he also seems to be in love with her himself. His character can trace its origins to the dejected best male friend trope, or, in more modern terms, the “friend-zoned one.” Pelle barely hides his distaste for how Christian treats Dani, and he even suggests to her that she deserves better. Pelle reminded me of all the men in my life who had been infatuated with the idea of me when I was with someone else. Beginning in my teenage years, there was always one male friend or another who clung to me in my hardest times, only to turn around and try to get in my pants the moment my guard was down. While Pelle doesn’t try anything sexual with Dani, he does manipulate her into giving him what he wants by ending her relationship with Christian. After the events of the film are over, it’s easy to imagine Pelle trying to engage in a romantic relationship with Dani. She is his May Queen, his perfect object of desire. While Pelle’s desires for Dani are more beneficial than Christian’s, he still doesn’t see her as a whole person. He imprints his own desires for their future upon her, even if that’s not what she might want without such heavy influence.
Scream With Me – The Women of Hårga
One of the first things I noticed about Hårga was that a woman seemed to be in charge. She follows the writings of their sacred, physically deformed prophet Ruben (Levente Puczkó-Smith), but Siv (Gunnel Fred) is clearly in charge. She wears a special red hairpiece that signifies her power over the rest of the clan. Red is the color of lust, blood, and power for the women in Hårga. After the virginal Maja (Isabelle Grill) seduces Christian through magic and/or psychedelic drugs and persuasion, we see her wearing a bodice embroidered through with red. Her lips are crimson, and she clearly has a new, more esteemed place among the women. The women of Hårga are to just as much blame for the murders of the grad students and manipulation of Dani as the men, but their methods feel more based in genuine empathy. They invite her to take part in women’s activities, baking meat pies together for lunch. It’s the first time we see Dani look truly relaxed and comfortable. There are no expectations of her beyond simple ones, and there is no reason for shame. She is just one of the women in a group, able to lose her broken identity for a moment to assimilate. Kitchens have long been the place where women share themselves with each other. One of my fondest memories during my own traumatic isolation was being invited to help make breakfast. We were living with a big family from a very different culture at the time, and I immediately jumped to the tasks I knew how to do. As I chopped onions and learned how to properly cook chorizo, the mother of the house and I chatted about anything and everything. I didn’t have to behave any certain way, and it was easy to fall into the domestic routines I had known since childhood. In that kitchen, I felt held. Better yet, the onions excused my tears. The women in Hårga share everything. When Maja and Christian have ritualistic sex, many of the elder women surround them, mimicking Maja’s pleasure and pain. They encourage Christian, with one of the oldest women even physically helping him in the act. There is no shame about sexuality or women’s pleasure, and the women themselves are the ones who choose lovers. Compared to the patriarchy of most of the rest of the world, this distinction seems important. This is a place where Dani might not have full control, but her autonomy has nothing to do with her gender/sex for the first time. After Dani discovers Christian having sex with Maja, she becomes violently distraught. She attempts to escape to solitude, as always, but the women of Hårga follow her. They begin screaming and crying with her. The women encircle her, making sure that she is literally held as she wails and grieves. While it’s possible to see this as additional manipulation, it felt to me like a ritual as old as time. Who hasn’t called their friends after a bad breakup for a pity party? Just as the women of the Hårga share the experience of sexual pleasure, they share Dani’s pain as well. They help her bear the load and remove her from her isolation.
The Catharsis of Dani’s Smile
While it can absolutely be argued that Dani exchanges one cage for another, there is something deeply cathartic about the final moments of Midsommar. Dani is asked to pick the final sacrifice and she chooses Christian, though not without some internal struggle. She watches him burn and sobs while the rest of Hårga go into the throes of mass hysteria around her. The camera focuses on her face as she cries, but in the final second, a hint of a smile curves her lips. That smile made me bark out a laugh that startled the poor woman sitting beside me in the theater. That smile symbolized finding joy again after so much pain. Even if that joy was brought about by something awful, it feels like a new beginning for Dani. She’s free from her bad relationship, free from her guilt, and free from her isolation. While Hårga may not be an ethical place, it is the right place for Dani to finally find peace. Many survivors of trauma have a difficult time integrating into the regular world. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can make social contracts especially challenging. Often, these survivors seek out unusual communities of their own, places where they don’t have to feel shame for their traumatic pasts or their current struggles. There are entire subcultures full of trauma survivors who came together for one reason or another, and many of these subcultures are viewed as deviant by the mainstream.Hårga is just an extreme example of these. Everything in Midsommar is taken to its most extreme, but there are real-life correlations that made me feel seen. They helped me process my own traumas and understand some of my life since, including some of the toxic friendships I’ve sought out to fix my shame. While I obviously don’t condone ritual murder or using psychedelics to manipulate people without their express consent, I found catharsis in Midsommar’s brutal ending. Where my other cathartic films starred badass action heroines, Dani was just a normal girl. I saw myself in her completely.As the credits rolled, I felt like the May Queen, no longer a whimpering victim. Dani’s journey left me raw, but also somehow healed. My own shame has been replaced with a flower crown – one I’m proud to bear.
