Midsommar, the remarkable and unsettling second film from Ari Aster, has emerged as a centerpiece of conversation and critical analysis in contemporary cinema. Released in 2019, this polarizing narrative captivates audiences with its profound emotional depth, following Dani’s (Florence Pugh) traumatic experiences during a midsummer festival in a secluded Swedish village. While the film is undoubtedly a horror experience filled with unforgettable chilling moments, it also serves as a rich exploration of complex themes such as grief, toxic relationships, and their deep-seated impacts on human psychology.
The film has sparked numerous interpretations, particularly regarding its underlying message. One significant topic of discussion is the “good for her”meme, which gained traction on Twitter in 2020 and resonated across platforms like Letterboxd. This phrase, originating from the series Arrested Development, celebrates films in which female characters emerge victorious after overcoming adversity. I contend that Midsommar epitomizes the quintessence of a “good for her”film, although some, including the film’s star, may hold differing views.
Midsommar’s Ending: A Testament to the Ultimate “Good For Her”Narrative
Dani’s Journey Culminates in a Transformative Smile
The majority of films categorized as “good for her”focus on themes of vengeance, portraying characters who endure trauma and strive for retribution against their oppressors. Classics such as Gone Girl, Kill Bill, The Invisible Man, and Us frequently dominate discussions within this genre. However, it is fascinating to observe that despite Midsommar’s harrowing narrative—a chain of killings and justice served—hardly anyone would consider it a conventional revenge film.
What captivates me most about Midsommar is Dani’s emotional odyssey. I have rarely encountered a character that elicits such strong empathy from me; I deeply wished for a respite from her suffering. The film opens with Dani’s boyfriend, Christian (Jack Reynor), voicing his discontent to friends, effectively contemplating a breakup. My heart ached for Dani even before the devastating news of her family’s tragic murder-suicide unfolded.
As the narrative progresses, Dani grapples not only with her profound grief but also with a series of manipulative situations inflicted by Christian. Reluctantly, she participates in an unsettling festival hosted by a murderous commune. She becomes subjected to mind-altering substances, witnesses multiple unsettling scenes, and endures unthinkable trauma. At times, the relentless sequence of distressing events inflicted upon Dani feels almost torturous to witness.
In the climactic moments of Midsommar, as Dani deliberates the fate of her toxic partner, her choice leads to Christian’s ultimate sacrifice—encased within a gutted bear and immolated within a temple. This moment marks a profound turning point. Dani’s first smile finally breaks through the cracks of her despair. I found an unexpected sense of fulfillment in her expression—a sign that she has found some form of relief and solace, even amid chaos.
Insights from Ari Aster Affirming It as a “Good For Her”Film
Crafted as the Quintessential Breakup Narrative
Ari Aster has expressed that he perceives Midsommar as a breakup movie. Having recently experienced a failed relationship while developing the script, he sought to channel those emotions into his work, stating to Variety:
I was going through a breakup at the time and piecing through the remnants of a failed relationship. I wanted to write a breakup movie, but I struggled to find an angle that felt unique and engaging rather than a cliché kitchen-sink drama.
Viewing the film from this perspective strengthens the argument that Midsommar stands as a quintessential “good for her”narrative. Many individuals remain trapped in unhealthy relationships, often out of fear of the unknown. Instead of choosing solitude over toxicity, they cling to familiarity.
For Dani, grieving intensely and bereft of family ties, the choice to remain with Christian—even amidst the malevolent grip of a cult—seems preferable to confronting further loss. The film’s conclusion ultimately empowers her to shed the burdens that have hindered her journey.
Ari Aster further elaborated on his thematic intentions during an interview with Vice:
Midsommar serves as my breakup movie—a reflection of how consuming and intense breakups can feel. It’s not the end of everything, but in a way, it is. You construct your life around someone, and when that abruptly changes, you face an existential reawakening, realizing that solitude is our inherent reality. This is the reason we invest so much into our relationships; they distract us from confronting our loneliness.
Florence Pugh’s Unique Perspective Diverges from Aster’s Vision
A Differing Interpretation by the Leading Actress
Florence Pugh offers a contrasting take on Midsommar’s ending, challenging Ari Aster’s interpretations. While her view aligns with various audience opinions, she does not categorize the film as a “good for her”narrative. Pugh interprets Dani’s journey as a descent into madness, perceiving the character’s final smile not as liberation, but rather an indication of her complete psychological breakdown. In a WIRED interview regarding her film We Live in Time, she remarked:
My interpretation diverges from Ari’s vision. To me, this reflects her psychological unraveling. When she opts for Christian’s demise, she enters a state of continuous psychological disarray. In the climactic moment when everything ignites, I channeled my childhood excitement from Bonfire Night and aimed to evoke a simplistic joy, as if suggesting she is no longer present.
Pugh’s articulate insights into her character enhance the film’s depth—she intimately understands Dani’s torment, having portrayed her vulnerability throughout. This diversity of interpretations epitomizes Midsommar’s artistic strength. Many viewers echo Pugh’s sentiment, concerned that Dani is merely a pawn manipulated by the cult, devoid of autonomy in her choices.
Nonetheless, I lean towards Aster’s interpretation. After traversing such an emotionally taxing path, I yearned for Dani to seize even the slightest victory—to find solace as she liberated herself from the chains that bound her.
Why Midsommar Stands Apart from Other “Good For Her”Films
The allure of films categorized as “good for her”often hinges on the moment when the protagonist finally triumphs, achieving their desires. However, I find that the conclusions of many such films feel predictable, granting audiences precisely the outcome they anticipated.
the "good for her" cinematic universe pic.twitter.com/b02QdGGHDt — cinematogrxphy (@cinematogrxphy) August 7, 2020
Even films like Gone Girl, regarded as a definitive “good for her”narrative, fail to resonate with me in that light. While Amy does achieve her objectives in a shocking twist, it unravels within a disheartening and toxic relationship context, particularly with a child on the horizon.
Conversely, Midsommar ventures into unexpected territory with its ending. Even if it doesn’t fulfill the aspirations many viewers hold for Dani, I experienced overwhelming satisfaction—an inexplicable happiness at her transformation. This deliberate subversion signifies what truly qualifies a film as a “good for her”experience.
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