My dear readers, it gives me no shortage of pride to report that the Hauntedhouses have historically demonstrated a remarkable degree of tolerance when it comes to differing opinions on spiritual matters. It has often behooved us not to wag our fingers too forcefully at the beliefs of others, as many of our family members have found themselves in dire philosophical contrast with religious trends. I recall my relative Proctor Hauntedhouse deviated from the practices of his set in ways that might seem trivial in a contemporary context but managed to cause quite a stir in his time. He was a follower of Nekhatut the Sorrowful and had the audacity to suggest that old Nekhatut had six arms instead of eight and that she sat upon a floating throne of bronze. And though only a child seven years of age was thought to be fit as a vessel for Nekhatut’s earthly reign, Proctor suggested on more than one occasion that one could fudge the numbers just a bit if the situation really called for it. Some saw nothing but the blackest heresy in his words, and the shunning he suffered led many of my lineage to pray for a time when theological differences would cause far fewer quarrels.

Dani (Florence Pugh) knows a thing or two about unconventional religious practices herself. She is romantically attached to graduate student Christian (Jack Reynor), and the poor dear’s anxieties have commanded the tone of their relationship for some time. Christian has had about all the gloomy company he can take and is considering severing his relationship with Dani entirely until a spot of familial trouble makes her too pitiful to abandon. And so when Christian and his chums decide to pop over to Sweden for an academic sojourn, Dani is invited to come along for the journey. One of Christian’s set (Vilhelm Blomgren) hails from a remote Swedish commune that puts a fair bit of pomp into their mid-summer festival and since Christian and some of his schoolmates are pursuing degrees in anthropology, their trip presents them with a unique opportunity to observe rites that have never been recorded by outsiders. 

The occupants of Hårga, Hälsingland prove to be a fairly hospitable lot, happily providing this group of unfamiliar foreigners with food, refreshments and powerful psychoactive substances. Members of the commune are so accommodating that they even allow Dani and company to witness some rituals that would usually inspire a rather urgent need for privacy. Their belief, for example, that life should end without argument at the age of seventy-two and their methods for ensuring this outcome are enough to give anyone unfamiliar with their practices something of a jolt. A few of these experiences prove to be a bit too educational for Dani, whose tolerance for horrifying violence does not quite match that of other fellows in her group and she makes some effort to leave the commune. But Dani discovers that premature departure is impossible, partially because the locals hope that she will play a highly specific role in the culmination of their summer ceremony.

Though I have always found the appeal of higher education to be positively inescapable, there are admittedly some folks who struggle to see the value in pursuing advanced degrees. For these poor souls, the gleam of the ivory tower is but a flicker and a life spent producing papers often unseen outside a somewhat insular community seems a needless indulgence. I cannot overstate my excitement, then, that such a wonderful film has been devoted to the pleasures of academia. No film in recent memory has made it so abundantly clear that lifelong university residents are not just stuffy old sorts confining themselves to dusty libraries and going blind from squinting at primary sources. It would be fanciful to think that every thesis would produce results as rich as the ones presented in Midsommar but even a fraction of the excitement would be enough to satisfy most graduate students. I give my hearty thanks to writer and director Ari Aster for creating such a lovely endorsement for a life of the mind.

Midsommar runs 147 minutes and is rated R for disturbing ritualistic violence, grisly images, strong sexual content, graphic nudity, drug use and language.