Though it’s not outright scary, Midsommar will no doubt unsettle even the most steeled of viewers. It will also satiate those who may have feared a sophomore slump from Aster. Hardly. This film’s the real deal, and if anything, it’s more audience-friendly than his first. Don’t miss it.

This is the kind of mad science filmmaking worth rooting for: Aster refashions “The Wicker Man” as a perverse breakup movie, douses Swedish mythology in Bergmanesque despair, and sets the epic collage ablaze. He may not land every big swing, but the underlying vision is hard to shake even when it falters.

Midsommar is a shocking piece of filmmaking—unnervingly competent even when the film yaws into silliness, even when it risks tedium. This film will alienate a lot of people (much like Hereditary, its audience exit polling is likely going to be abysmal), but there’s a wonderfully audacious confidence to the way Midsommar is built.

More unsettling than frightening, it's still a trip worth taking.

Aster’s bold flourishes occasionally fall flat, but Florence Pugh holds the film together — especially when its plotting stumbles or its shocks grow predictable.