I live for provocative horror movies—the more beautiful, the more imaginative, and the more messed up, the better. Like so many, I want to be challenged by a horror movie. I want it to make me question why I have specific reactions, why I squirm in my seat, why I cheer when someone meets their deserved bloody end. This the expectation I carry into any movie, including into Midsommar, the latest effort from Ari Aster (Hereditary).

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