NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
A young woman, Harper (Jessie Buckley) comes to an English countryside where she rents a cottage to deal with trauma stemming from her husband’s (Paapa Essiedu) unexpected passing. To get her mind off the situation, she goes on a stroll through the grounds and ends up in a forest ripe with greens all around. She finds herself at the entrance of a tunnel, a dark passage to an unknown location; the hole captivates her and she enters it.
Her voice echoes in the cave, reverberating against itself in cycles. She sings a variety of different tunes, some with only a few notes, against one another, transforming the collective soundscape into an evocative ouroboros-like melody wherein each discrete set of notes fades into the next before eventually returning. But Harper’s song of echoes comes to an end as a silhouetted man appears at the other side of the tunnel. The man breaks the moment’s serenity and gives chase to Harper all the way back to her cottage.
This scene defines and crystallizes the logic of Men, a work in which narrative, visual, and auditory patterns are interwoven against and within one another, generating a complex schema of meaning contingent on how the viewer orients themselves towards the cinematic experience. This act of interpretation places the viewer squarely on Harper’s side; as she navigates a matrix of men, each obnoxious in their own chauvinistic, irritating way, and has to deal with all manners of gaslighting from them, the viewer is forced to make sense of how different story threads suture around one another and come together to form a cohesive narrative, surreal or not.
From the moment Harper meets the residents near her abode, these interpretative decisions start to sprout up: each of the men she meets sports a similar face – an intentional decision as they’re all played by Rory Kinnear. Yet this similarity in appearance is never noted by Harper or any of the characters, leaving its purpose up to interpretation. The viewer gets to determine whether or not the homogeneity is due to Harper’s subjective view of all men being the same or the film’s themes suggesting that the men are so similar that their physical appearances should reflect one another or something else entirely. Each interpretation is suggested by the film as the echoes generated by its elliptical formal choices tie seemingly innocuous details into larger theses that bracket the film in one discrete direction versus another. These choices in perspective have such a compounding effect on the nature of the narrative that a viewer could leave justifiably thinking that the film only portrays one character death, shown in flashback, or showcases multiple character deaths sprinkled throughout the story. However, regardless of which path the viewer and Harper choose to follow, the center of that journey always terminates in man.
Thus, Harper’s journey, whatever the viewer determines it is, elliptically orders itself around the nature of a subject’s relationship to men and the social order oriented around and indexed towards their positions. Regardless of which man Harper finds herself encountering, the same cycle ensues: her attempts at individual peace are interrupted as she’s forced to give attention to the man in question, the nature of that attention being contingent on the above interpretative schema.
The dream-like quality can easily be dismissed as art-house pretension, especially as the subtext sublimates in a visceral body horror that threatens to confuse more than illuminate. But by leaving the viewer in the same fractured and entranced state as its protagonist, Men manages to provoke an empathetic engagement with the subject matter, even if the nature of that engagement differs wildly from viewer to viewer. Far from gaslighting the viewer with obtuse, opaque threads meant to elicit confusion, Men forces the viewer to take responsibility for the narrative they craft from the film itself.
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TLDR
Men is an ambitious piece of film-making that investigates the nature of gaslighting and obfuscation by making the viewer responsible for piecing together the narrative and taking charge of what it means. The unnerving, surreal imagery takes on a new life as its purpose takes on a subjective meaning, letting the horrors take firm root in the mind. Even when the thresholds for explanation wear thin, the experience generated by the emphatic connection with a protagonist going through a similar labyrinth of meaning and construction ensures the feelings of the film still wash over.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
An explanation that the film is comprised of “real” found footage.
Though the opening seems tame today, back when it was released, this introduction marked The Blair Witch Project as a very real kind of horror. The explanation of the source of the footage informs the viewer that no one in the film is going to make it and the amateur quality of the footage and technique throughout the film seemingly confirms that this film is in fact genuine. The tame introduction gives the footage that follows a credibility that something more stylized or pronounced would ruin.
The film opens on the title card, white letters against a black backdrop, before informing the viewer that the footage presented comes from three student filmmakers who disappeared while shooting it. In other words, this is a “true” story based on true, un-edited, footage.
As if in demonstration and confirmation of this status, a completely unfocused mess of colors permeate the screen. It becomes apparent that the camera technician is trying to get the camera to focus on its subject, Heather (Heather Donahue), who explains that she is going to film a documentary on the eponymous “Blair Witch”. Unlike other horrors that start with the “true story” introduction, like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre by Tobe Hooper, The Blair Witch‘s look confirms its announcement, thereby imbuing it with a grounded feeling. Consequently, Heather’s announcement transforms from quirky and cheerful to swan song; the viewer knows that her documentary will lead her to her disappearance. The cheery footage is confirmation that she, and her two cameramen, Joshua (Joshua Leonard) and Michael (Michael Williams) are no more.
This impending doom permeates the film and tinges each of the introduction to the documentary’s crew with melancholy. Heather’s unending enthusiasm feels like a cruel joke. Likewise, Michael telling his mother goodbye hits harder because it’s the last time he’s ever going to see her. As the crew sets off to Burkittsville, Maryland to get footage for their “film”, the viewer knows they’re marching off to their doom.
Town sign for Burkittsville, Maryland
A statue of an angel.
A shot of tombstones at a cemetery.
The amateur attempt at setting a creepy mood via striking and unnerving establishing shots captured by 16 MM film immediately makes it clear that this is a student film. The voiceover narration by Heather adds to this feeling and consequently makes the entire production feel amateurish. The earnestness by which Heather tries to make her documentary creepy makes what happens to her and her crew cruelly ironic.
Upon getting to the location of where the “Blair Witch” myth started, Heather, the director of the documentary, switches cameras from the camcorder, which records in color, to the 16-MM film camera, which records in black and white. The former camera is her attempt to capture a “behind-the-scenes” and the latter camera is for the for the documentary proper. The juxtaposition of the black and white scenes to the colored scenes which came before, accentuate the realism the film goes for precisely because of the amateur nature of Heather’s filmmaking.
As she uses the 16 MM to film a set of insert shots in foreboding manner – a town sign, an angel figure, headstones in a cemetery, etc – it’s apparent she’s trying to evoke a sense of fear and immensity for the audience she thinks is going to watch her piece. Her narration is overdramatic and makes the attempt at horror on her part feel cheesy. However, it is precisely because her attempts at selling fear in such a forward fashion fail, that the terrors she experiences in the latter half of the film gain their legitimacy. Because the polish associated with a studio project is missing from these “proper” shots, they give the “improper” shots an extra genuine feeling.
An old man talks about the Blair witch on the camcorder.
The old man repeats his story in more professional manner when captured on the 16 MM camera.
A child covers their mother’s mouth when the latter mentions the Blair Witch.
Because the film switches between a camcorder and a 16MM film camera, using the latter for the expressed sake of the “professional” documentary Heather is shooting, it gets to establish multiple layers of “reality”. By revealing a layer of artifice, the film disguises the acting of its actors as a documentary proper – an even more real description of reality. This unseen privileging of the “camcorder” reality over the “16 MM” reality lets the film use exposition and action that seem random as ways to amp up the tension.
Case in point, Heather and her crew interact a decent amount of townspeople for clues about the witch before deciding to go off into the forest to get footage on landmarks associated with the malevolent entity. They approach most of these people with the camcorder first, before then asking their subject questions about the witch. If the answer satisfies them, they switch to the 16MM camera and start to shoot “serious” footage. The viewer gets to see the crew canvas targets, ask them questions, hear vague series of answers which paint a dark mythos that reveals very little, and then switch cameras to film those townspeople who had something “interesting” to say.
In fact, it is precisely the film’s switching between the two cameras that gives it the terrifying texture that’s made it such an integral part of horror canon. The film invites the viewer into the film-making process and shows them a view of “reality” and then “reality via artifice” in comparison. These moments provide a point of minimal difference that cements that the found-footage comes from the real world, the world the viewer actually resides in. When on camcorder, the townsfolk talk naturally and seem like average residents. There’s nothing obviously phony about them or their presentation. However, when the film camera is used, the townsfolk adopt a persona for the camera, as though conscious that they are now “officially” going to be on film, so they have to act their best. By providing a point of contrast and a measured difference, the film convinces the audience of the “truth” of the two realities its presenting.
Obviously, this technique implies that the theatrics are only happening behind the black-and-white screen. As a result, the camcorder scenes achieve a level of “legitimacy” that gives them a staying power. For example, a baby screaming out and rushing to cover their mother’s mouth when the latter mentions the Blair Witch stories on the camcorder immediately feels like an omen, because it’s not “staged”/repeated in 16 MM. Thus, the camera gains the power of being a filter for reality. It’s a measure of control that demarcates what is reality and what is artifice.
This idea of the camera as controlling force is the driving theme behind The Blair Witch Project and explains why it’s one of the most frightening found-footage films ever. Heather is obsessed with getting more footage of the events, constantly shoving a camera in someone’s face or trying to get more coverage of terrifying events as they happen. Her compulsion to record is criticized by both Josh and Michael at various points, as they see the behavior as at odds with the group’s ability to navigate the spectral occurrences they run into. However, as she explains herself, the act of documentation is all “she has left.” The camera is the only tool she has left to frame the horrors around her into a cohesive narrative that she overcome.
This is also why the camera is constantly associated with civilization, with Heather and company constantly mentioning that their detour in the woods as having to end eventually because America is destroying its environment. Far from being a cause of concern, the characters repeat the statement in the hopes that the unconquerable vastness of the wilderness will eventually give way to the calm control provided by civilization. In this way, the camera becomes the normalizing force of the social order – a tool meant to help carve out the wild and mystical unknowns into something more agreeable. It is an extension of an American dream which envisions technology being used to cut through and remove the inexplicable from the day-to-day.
This posture towards technology stands in stark contrast to Japanese horror (J-horror) films coming out at the same time, like Ring by Hideo Nakata and Pulse by Kiyoshi Kurosawa, which focused on the anxiety inherent in technology. In Nakata and Kurosawa’s films, technology provides a conduit through which the supernatural past can make its presence felt once again in the “modern” world. In The Blair Witch Project, far from being a tool of the supernatural, the camera is never allowed to witness supernatural events happening as they happen and instead is only ever allowed to assess their consequences, suggesting that the supernatural can’t be tamed by the powers of modernity. This effect is made all the more suspenseful because of the ambiguous worldbuilding provided by the townspeople. Not a single story any member gives is wholly consistent with another, so the nature of who or what what the Blair Witch and their respective capacities is a mystery. One phenomenon hearkens back to one legend of the myth while another leans another way. With no rhyme or reason to the terror at play, the viewer is stuck, like the crew themselves, to experience the scares without knowing the stakes.
In this way, The Blair Witch Project, is a found-footage horror truly representing the sub-genre’s name. It’s a demonstration of the inability of film to mediate horror and provide enough of a gap to render it palatable and tame. Found footage, far from providing answers, only hints at the uncanny power of the abyss which gives no refuge or answers to anyone willing to seek them. By the time the film gets to the latter sections, the characters no longer find solace in their cameras because their ability to frame the situation is removed. The 16 MM and camcorder become interchangeable as the distinctions between what is reality and what is artifice becomes blurry before vanishing into a void with no answers. The behind-the-scenes footage becomes artifice and vice versa as the places to hide from the terror of the unknown disappear.
When the film approaches its end, the edits between scenes become more jarring and provide less information as to what’s happened in the “down-time”. It’s apparent that the characters are clearly filming less as they find themselves trapped and terrified in a situation they can’t comprehend, let alone control. Like the characters, the viewer gets no reprieves from the terrors, as the camera cutting off doesn’t mean respite as much as it means one awful moment is going to cut to a moment even worse in the future. The audience is strapped into a roller-coaster of nightmares that shows no signs of slowing down as the film races towards its finish.
While the directors, Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez, deserve credit for pushing such a low-budget idea to such great lengths, the reason the film is able to work at all, let alone so effectively, is because of the seeming veracity of every actor. Every member of the cast, whether it be the primary trio or the townspeople, has to put on multiple layers of performance, both presenting a “genuine” representation and an obvious façade on that representation that seemingly also stems from it. In other words, the actors have to present a fantasy off as reality and then pass another related fantasy off as artifice. Despite interviewing a plethora of characters, there’s never a point where this dichotomy fails or feels questionable. Actually, the spontaneous nature of the storytelling and dialogue feels so put together and cohesive that it reaches that magical place where it is both too unkempt to feel constructed but is also pointed enough to not come off as feeling totally left-field.
Even though the film might not be as terrifying as it was when it first came out in 1999, at the height of mainstream acceptance of the internet, its construction and “honesty” make it a compelling watch for anyone willing to invest seriously into its premise. The natural character interactions, commitment to authenticity, lack of polish, and unpredictable roller-coaster of scares of The Blair Witch Project are still rarities in the found-footage genre which it helped to popularize and make commonplace, and all serve as proof of just how special the film is.
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TLDR
The Blair Witch Project is proof that a solid idea and tight execution can be scarier than any polished Hollywood production. Despite being one of the first “found-footage” horrors, The Blair Witch Project is still one of the best. It effectively combines ambiguous worldbuilding, realistic performances, and quick and efficient pacing to deliver a horror that reveals our natural proximity to the terrors hiding beneath the veneer of civilization. Those viewers willing to suspend their disbelief and give in to the film can still find some of the terror that audiences back in 1999 first got a taste of.
Rating
A+
Grade
9.6/10
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Florench Pugh as Dani Ardor Jack Reynor as Christian Vilhelm Blomgren as Pelle William Jackson Harper as Josh Will Poulter as Mark
Release Date
2019
Language(s)
English
Running Time
148 minutes 171 minutes (Director’s Cut)
When I saw Hereditary in late 2018, I was left absolutely floored. I couldn’t believe a movie could hit me in so many different ways. The majority of the scares came from the tense and emotional family drama. Grief. Responding to tragedy. Trying to move on. Ari Aster had made a horror movie that found the horror in the most real and genuine moments that a lot of families have gone through (some more than others). When I saw that A24 was releasing another movie by him the next year, I knew I would be buying my tickets in advance. I’m more than happy to report that Aster did not disappoint. Midsommar is a hell of a ride. I should know – I’ve seen the movie five times. This review will deal primarily with the normal theatrical cut, but I will have a rating for both cuts of the film.
The movie follows a group of friends on their journey to Sweden for a festival that only happens once every 90 years. The moment the movie started I was gripped. The opening scene is intense. When I say intense, I mean wow. Genuinely gets me every time and this is before the “title” card even comes up. We get beautiful shots of nature, closeups of the tragedy to come, ominous foreshadowing, great initial character work, and an incredibly relatable introduction into the core thread of the movie- a crumbling relationship. Somehow, Aster manages to fit in a little bit of everything in a short time while giving a great road map to the tale that awaited.
Every single member of the main craw acted phenomenally. The chemistry (or lack thereof) between them makes every single element feel human and personable.Florence Pugh is downright AMAZING. The stress, the worry, the constant doubt, the codependency , the weariness – every element she gives in the first 10 minutes had me invested in how her character would progress. I cared about Dani. Watching her react and emote to the struggles she goes through is satisfying and makes a lot of the emotional moments in the movie stick in my head. Likewise Jack manages to do a great job of making the audience really hate him as Dani’s asshole aficionado boyfriend. It takes a lot to make me dislike a character that much, but I absolutely hated Christian. He’s grimy in a way that’s pretty normal which is what gives the movie such a sinister feeling. It makes you cheer against someone who really isn’t so different from ourselves. William Jackson Harper is great as Josh and feels like the first person who could be typecast as “nerdy philosophical guy who digs himself into serious problems”. I’m only half kidding, but his portrayal of a geeky super serious nerd is touching and alarming. Will Poulter is comedic gold as Mark and had me laughing literally every time he came on the screen. He helped keep the movie from ever feeling like “too much”. Rounding off the cast, Vilhelm Blomgren is great as Pelle. He’s calm and comforting which helps make the story feel that much more rounded in theme. The characters all play off each other well and watching the interactions bloom between them keeps every moment relevant. I always cared about what was going to happen to them.
This film has been described by Aster as “more of a fairy tale than a horror film,” and I couldn’t have said it better myself. This isn’t a horror movie in the traditional sense. It has gruesome elements. There are certainly moments that are unnerving and unsettling. However, the main crux of the movie deals with toxicity in relationships- romantic and platonic. Friendships are revealed for what they really are- there’s gas lighting, projection, passive aggressive behavior , and insensitivity. The fact that it all feels so real is what makes it so terrifying. There’s something recognizable in each of these moments which forces you to think about yourself in uncomfortable ways. The juxtaposition of feeling redeemed but simultaneously condemned as different relationships were revealed is something I haven’t really experienced in a movie before. But that’s the thing about people right? We’re toxic at times but also go through other toxic stuff and this movie gets that and dives right into exploring the ways we hurt ourselves and others. The first time I saw the movie , I left the theater and just started crying. It was a lot to kind of process and deal with. In my second viewing, I felt joy. A sense of elation. By the end of the movie I was laughing almost gleefully. You can always find a new way to relate or enjoy something about the film if you let yourself fall under its spell.
On top of this, the movie is downright hilarious. Like I said above, Poulter is great and has a ton of great one liners. But the fun doesn’t stop with him. The sometimes absurd reaction of certain characters to different phenomena and the way they react to certain scenarios always creates an incredibly perverse humor. There’s one scene in the third act, that had the entire audience laughing every time I saw it – but the scene itself is horrifying in terms of implication. When you realize what you’re laughing at there’s almost a sick realization of depravity. Like you’ve done something wrong, but right. That’s a special kind of humor and it never feels out of place with the other jokes.
Finally, the movie is a visual masterpiece. The movie features the use of hallucinogens. When the characters trip, the visuals match. They don’t look unrealistic or absurd like how movies want to think trips are- instead, they’re incredibly realistic. It’s honestly mesmerizing and is the best depiction I’ve seen of what the influence of those materials looks like in media. There are tons of little visual clues in a lot of scenes that will have you asking about what’s really going on. It’s a great directing technique that keeps the audience in the same frame of mind as the characters. I could feel their panic and sense of unease. Furthermore, there are so many gorgeous shots in this movie that I could easily screenshot and print out in a frame. Gorgeous wide shots of nature and the pagan festivities really sells the eerie folk feeling. The movie also takes place entirely in “the morning” which makes it even better , because the feeling of something being wrong is amplified. Aster uses mirrors and reflective surfaces to great effect, especially in dialogue scenes which creates beautiful depictions of character relations while augmenting the already astounding aesthetic.
Sound is done well and I actually noticed how well mixing was done. Sounds dim in and out based on character feeling and the intensity of the drug induced trip they’re in which only increases engagement with them. The score is also iconic and I’ve listened to it on Spotify countless times. When the music starts playing, everything starts feeling more spiritual and evocative. It’s hard to describe but it’s almost ethereal in how it amplifies the movie. It’s also used to give otherwise horrifying scenes an almost positive and spiritual vibe. Watching moments in the third act with the sound off gives the movie a brand new sinister vibe which just seems to prove to me how masterful every element adds to one another.
DIRECTOR’S CUT
If you like this movie the first time (especially if you’ve seen only the theatrical cut), I’d highly recommend watching the Director’s cut for a second watch through because of how much it reinforces and expands on what you already know from the last movie.
The Director’s cut is really good at building up character moments. Christian is more of an ass and his relationship with both Josh and Dani are fleshed out even more. It makes the payoff in the third act more satisfying and also explains some character issues I thought were slightly “too much” more understandable.
Furthermore, the cult’s activities are expanded in ways that both give events in the third act more relevance but help flesh out the group more. They feel more sinister while at the same time giving off a larger aura of spirituality. Smaller details are given far more weight which makes the whole experience feel more justified and set-up.
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TLDR
Midsommar is a beautiful look into the way we treat each other and the consequences of abandoning responsibility. Depending on your point of view it can be a horror or a cathartic fairy tail which gives it a lot of replay value. I thought the movie was near flawless when I first saw it, and only loved it that much more upon watching the Director’s cut. I’ve loved and raved about the movie above, but I’d only recommend watching it if you like those artsy weird horror films – The Witch, It Follows,etc. I recognize the movies aren’t for everyone and I’d hate if you had a bad time.
Rating
10/10 10/10(Director’s Cut)
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
