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How Much is ‘Midsommar’ Like a Real Swedish Midsummer Celebration?

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On June 25, many Swedes gather for one of the year’s most beloved holiday celebrations: Midsummer’s Eve. It’s one of few with relatively little religious content, even though it originates from the 4th-century celebration of John the Baptist’s birth. Like many folk traditions, Midsummer is about the passing of the seasons. It falls near the summer solstice and is thematically similar to how that event has been celebrated in many cultures through the ages. People come together to share food and drink in a summery setting, around the dinner table at home, at larger gatherings in the garden, or in the form of grand communal celebrations outdoors. It’s one of the longest days of the year, luminally encouraging a late, late night of partying, and fittingly it was decided in 1953 that Midsummer’s Eve should always occur on a Friday.

But for horror fans, Swedish Midsummer only means one thing, at least since the past couple of years: the movie Midsommar (2019). Ari Aster‘s gruesome depiction of part-fictional, part actual Swedish lore in the small community of Hårga was divisive among critics and audiences at its release. The film is open to many interpretations and produces new discourse on what almost seems like a daily basis, revealing that even if not universally liked, Midsommar is one of the more talked about horror films in recent years.

In developing the script, Aster had help from set decorator Henrik Svensson in devising the Hårga cult and their customs. It consists of a rich mixture of traditions, rituals, and visuals from Swedish and other folk cultures but somehow darkly twisted. Many events in Midsommar seem out of this world, or at least so arcane that they can be presumed to have very little to do with today’s festivities surrounding Midsummer’s Eve. But in fact, there is more overlap between the fictional and the actual celebration than you would think.

Let’s break down some of the customs depicted in Midsommar and try to answer the question: Do Swedes really do this? But before we proceed, let’s get the pronunciation down once and for all. The Swedish word “midsommar” is pronounced “miss-ommar,” stressing all syllables more or less the same, and that’s that.

Attire and adornments

Although the folk garbs worn by the Hårga members are made up, it’s not uncommon to see similar clothing on Swedish Midsummer and other traditional celebrations in the country. In the old agrarian society, they were just ordinary outfits, varied with the seasons. But the national romantic movement in Europe around the turn of the 20th century picked up on this, much like with many other “peasant” customs, and members of high society started wearing folk costumes on festive occasions. While the bourgeoisie was busy cosplaying and spending a lot of time trying to create a canon of regional garments, the general population had moved on to work clothes more suited to an industrialized society. Many even considered folk costumes a symbol of an archaic and wildly unequal society that they had moved on from in the name of modernity. The community Midsummer celebration in Sweden has an air of theater, and many would consider wearing these uniforms from old times an homage more than a fashion statement, much like wearing a Santa’s hat on Christmas.

Flowers are everywhere in Midsommar and on Midsummer too. The fresh flower wreath worn on the head has become one of the immediately recognizable visuals from the movie, featured in its iconic poster. This summery accessory is actually ubiquitous during Swedish Midsummer, and you’ll see people of all ages wear them regardless of their feelings about body adornments the rest of the year. Traditionally, the wreath is made by the wearer on the same day, again connecting with the seasonal growth theme of the holiday. The full-body May Queen flower bed attire awarded to Dani towards the end is, however, an invention of the filmmakers and not a common sight in Sweden. You could think of it as an almost absurd exaggeration of existing flower-wearing traditions.

The casting of spells

Do Swedes cast love spells and hide runic totems under each other’s pillows on Midsummer? This practice is depicted in Midsommar at first as a somewhat childish make-believe game and later pointing towards something more sinister, and you would think it has little to do with modern celebrations. But Swedes will find rituals along these lines very familiar in a slightly modified form: picking the seven flowers. Midsummer is a magical night in folklore, when nature, animals, and people are more susceptible to spells and more in touch with their spiritual dimension. Thus, it’s an excellent opportunity to find out who your true love is. The way to go about it is to pick seven types of flowers, preferably jumping over seven fences in the process, then hiding them under your pillow on Midsummer’s Eve. That night your future betrothed will appear to you in a dream. In Midsommar, some Hårga women pick flowers walking backward, which is not an uncommon addition to the picking of the seven flowers tradition. Gathering the flowers in complete silence is another variation. Both these customs are about doing things out of the ordinary to break with non-magical everydayness. However, Midsommar takes a rather sweet and innocent ritual and turns it dark: instead of a self-suggestive gesture, an invasive hex pointed at Christian to muddle his mind.

Dancing around the pole

Dani has a significant emotional breakthrough in what can be considered the beginning of Midsommar‘s climax, the dance scene. The young women of Hårga are served drug-infused lemonade and invited to dance in various patterns around a decorated pole until they faint, steadily incited by droning folk music from a small ensemble and the commands of an elder. The last person standing wins the most coveted of prizes – they are crowned May Queen and revered as such for the remainder of the feast, with all sorts of peculiar ceremonies that come with the title. Dani participates in this game of endurance, at first reluctantly but with more and more glee, or something like it.

The Midsummer Pole (or Maypole, internationally speaking) is the quintessential Midsummer symbol in Sweden. At large community celebrations, it is usually erected at the center of a meadow as a group activity, after decorating it with birch leaves and flowers, leaving plenty of room around it. Because yes, like in Midsommar, dancing around the pole is an essential activity on this day. Similar to the movie, it is usually done in several circles with ever-changing modes and variations. But the modern dance around the Maypole is geared more towards the youngest, with childish songs such as “Små grodorna” (“The Little Frogs”) that include imitating frogs and such. Accompaniment by a small group of live musicians is a common sight, usually on traditional instruments such as violin and accordion. The goal of the current day Midsummer circle dance is not to determine a May Queen. It serves more as a socially acceptable opportunity to play like kids for a little while, hopefully not collapsing along the way. If drugs are involved, it’s more likely in the form of beer than psychedelics.

Death and sacrifice

More horrific than curious is the Hårga inclination towards blood sacrifice. In discussions about whether Dani or Christian is the worst person, many seem to completely miss that Pelle is, in fact, the real villain in Midsommar. Underneath a soft and sympathetic demeanor hides the person responsible for bringing new victims to the cult, ready to be sacrificed as part of the symbolic nine in the film’s final scenes. In Sweden, historical research into pre-Christian Midsummer traditions regularly revives the debate on whether there was once upon a time an element of blood sacrifice. So far, the evidence is thin. If it ever happened, it is even less likely humans were subjected. So this is one you can strike off your list of things to expect on a Midsummer’s Eve celebration in 2021.

Of course, the most memorable deaths in Midsommar are those near a high, rocky cliff known as the ättestupa. The literal meaning of the term is something like “clan precipice.” It was a place where supposedly the oldest members of society would jump off, or be pushed, to their death when they could no longer contribute to the group. So when the anthropologist Josh hears that Hårga might be into the ättestupa, he is fascinated and frightened – having heard of it only in academic research. It’s a realistic reaction that aligns with the current research consensus on the subject, which is that there is no credible confirmation of any ättestupa actually having been in use. But it’s something many Swedes had heard of long before the movie came out, often through high school history teachers that felt a need to spice up slightly boring lectures with some dubious but thrilling horror content.

When in Sweden

Midsommar has an abundance of overt and obscure references to Swedish folklore. You can take almost any ritual seen in the movie, do some research on it, and find out it has a counterpart in some existing, ancient tradition. As traditions are living things and only survive for as long as they are practiced, many have fallen into oblivion by now. But numerous customs survive to this day and still find their way to any modern celebration of Midsummer’s Eve in Sweden, some in a somewhat original form and others simplified.

If you are ever invited to Sweden to celebrate Midsummer, don’t be afraid. You are not likely to fall prey to a pagan death cult. But you will probably, hopefully, partake in some odd customs like jumping around like frogs or picking flowers backward. However, you will not be able to shed every last association to Ari Aster’s vision. Because in all likelihood, you are surrounded by people dressed in white linen or cotton, the occasional folk costume, everyone with a floral wreath on their head. The Maypole is up, and the day is long. Let the festivities begin.

Markus Amalthea Magnuson is a film writer and technologist from Stockholm, Sweden. He holds a BA and MA in Cinema Studies and wrote his master's thesis on cyborgs and gender in film and television. He is the Head of Short Film Programming at the genre festival Monsters of Film and curates notable science fiction movies at scifiagenda.com

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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