Art, Fantasy and Female Empowerment in 'Midsommar' and 'Portrait of a Lady on Fire'

*Contains spoilers*

Midsommar (dir. Ari Aster) and Portrait of a Lady on Fire (dir. Céline Sciamma) are two of my favourite films to come out of 2019, both having absolutely stunned me with their beauty, originality and enthralling performances. Thematically, they may not seem to share much in common – Midsommar is an American break-up horror film about a group of friends visiting a remote Swedish commune for a once-in-90-years midsummer festival, whilst Portrait of a Lady on Fire is a French period drama about the relationship between two women; a portrait painter and her aristocratic sitter. But both of films seem to have a lot to say on the subjects of freedom and, more specifically, how art and fantasy can help to escape an oppressive reality.

When watching Midsommar, I was struck by the clever use of visual art as a foreshadowing tool. The mural that appears at the very beginning of the film visually depicts the events that are soon to follow and the characters playing a part in them. The mural also introduces and emphasizes a theme that will be expressed throughout the film and is paramount to its meaning: the reality of fantasy. Each piece of fantastical visual art that we see in Midsommar, especially the wall-drawings in Hårga, becomes a reality in the film – the love story tapestry, the may pole competition, the bear in flames, and so on. This device is immensely clever – as we begin to realize that what we see depicted on these walls will later manifest on screen, we understand that fantasy (especially of the fairy tale kind) and reality are entangled in this world. In this way, besides from being a great way of building tension, it also enables us to understand the kind of freedom that Hårga can offer (and ultimately what might make it attractive to Dani).

Ari Aster has stated in multiple interviews that for him the film is meant to be a dark fairy tale or the manifestation of a twisted post-breakup fantasy. Like with shroom trips which help the characters physically break away from reality, the plot centralizing a midsummer festival (which are traditionally about suspending and escaping reality for a short time), and even the simple cinematographic technique of flipping the camera on its head as they drive into topsy-turvy Hälsingland, the visual art in Midsommar symbolizes the freedom to escape reality for a bit and indulge in your fantasy - this is the unique freedom that Hårga can provide.

This idea is also conveyed by putting the anthropologists (especially Josh) to work, who not only provide insight for the viewer into how Hårga and its culture operates, but also lend us the feeling that this place is somehow not real, that it’s something to be studied and observed from a distance rather than lived. At first, what goes on in Hårga feels more akin to theatre, which is how Pelle described its festival before their arrival, supposing its participants are merely indulging in pageantry. When the first ritual is performed, however, it becomes clear that if this is theatre, they take their stunts extremely seriously. It isn’t clear where the line between what is real and what is mere performance is drawn, or whether there even is one.

Also, it seems to be with almost beautiful irony that the horror trope of entrapment, that “once you go there, you’re never getting back home”, seems to be inversed by end of the film. The trap actually lies in Dani’s (previous) home, in Christopher’s unloving, unholding arms, whilst the physically inescapable Hårga is where Dani can find her freedom – freedom from a toxic relationship and the trauma of losing her family. And so, fittingly, the cathartic ending peaks with Dani’s insidious smile as her gaslighting ex is burned alive and she is finally released. Art in Midsommar represents the freedom to escape a suffocating, oppressive reality through living out fantasies.

This idea is also explored in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, but contains a much more feminist aspect to it: The freedom that art allows is one from an oppressive patriarchal society that wishes to objectify, possess and control women. Whether it’s musical (Vivaldi, the beach choir), literary (the story of Orpheus and Eurydice) or visual (the painting of the abortion scene, the bedroom sketches, or the portrait(s) of Héloïse), art allows the women in Portrait to transcend their patriarchal realities. Through singing, the women on the island can bonds with each other. Through their intimate sketches, Marianne and Héloïse can express their love. Through the depiction of her abortion scene, Sophie can take back ownership of her experience and what it meant, and Marianne and Héloïse can express their solidarity. And through their portraiture, Héloïse is able to resist the pose that a patriarchal society has, so to speak, imposed on her, and reassert her subjectivity, whilst Marianne is able to paint from her personal and intimate experience of the woman in front of her, rather than adhering to the “rules, conventions and ideas” she has been taught to utilize. This is a shift from Héloïse being a mere object and Marianne a dominant observer (who with her techniques is painting, at first, as a man) to both becoming free and equal subjects.

Like with a midsummer festival, however, the relief that the island is offering them is only temporary. Héloïse’s mother will eventually return and Marianne’s job must be completed (“at one point, we stop”). And Marianne, like Orpheus, cannot save her lover from a doomed destiny. She can, however, “make the poet’s choice”, in other words, the artist’s choice, which is to keep the memory of Héloïse. It’s in their inevitable separation that the power of art in Portrait becomes most poignant: Not only can it help these women express and communicate their experiences and relationships, but it can also contain these very moments and connections. Art is used to combat the restrictions imposed on their love by being a living memory which transcends the linear time and space of their patriarchal reality, and allows them to become free again, find solace, stay connected and relive their love through art, no matter the misfortunes of their physical circumstances.

Art is not a mere tool for escapism. It can embody experiences, entire relationships, that are refused existence in reality. And so, like how Dani in Midsommar is able to indulge in fantasy to liberate herself from a suffocating reality, the women in Portrait are able to use art to survive in a patriarchal world.