Midsommar is The Wicker Man for the skinny jeans wearing, Banksy loving, mochastrosity sipping generation. It's wanky up its own arse, full of affectation and showy offy camera acrobatics. There are echoes of @Refn in Paris peacocking it all up here.
But also, and unlike Hereditary, it's sometimes really good and sporadically great. I found it unnervingly funny and scary, it has some tight set piecing and some really wild imagery. A bitty film that one minute will regurgitate some stale horror motif and the next mallet you with something alarmingly vibrant. Contrast the indulgent intro that never significantly pays off, with the brief scene of sacred-log jackassery that rapidly ratchets up the ominousness. I've decided that Florence Pugh is a limited actor but with classic movie star presence, and that's usually better.
Yes, it is a good, and he is a talent. I just have to lament the ceaseless hipster gentrification of genre cinema once more.