Midsommar

This enjoyably daft but long-winded riff on The Wicker Man sees Florence Pugh, Jack Reynor and Will Poulter among a bunch of young people falling foul of pagan practices when they injudiciously drop in on a remote Swedish village's summer solstice celebrations. (Over-)directed by Ari Aster, the man who made hit horror film Hereditary, Midsommar revels in the notion that things that traditionally go bump in the night can equally well go bump in broad daylight. And in the idea that sunshine, sweetness and smiles can cloak far darker designs. And, for a time, in this land of the midnight sun, they do. And creepily so. But the novelty of high-noon horror wears ripely thin and risible over an overlong running time. Midsommar is slicker than The Wicker Man, but can't match the "wow" moment of Edward Woodward's journey to Summerisle (or Britt Ekland's dance), though it offers an underwhelming equivalent of the former if not the latter.