Midsommar — mayhem, merriment, and madness!
In 2019, the scariest movie I saw was Midsommar.
I am telling you this, today, as June 19th 2020 is Midsommar in Sweden, and tomorrow, June 20th is Juhannus in Finland (Finland was a Swedish province for centuries, until a reckless military over-reach by Kungen Gustav IV Adolf against Russia in 1808 ended up with the loss of those Eastern Provinces in early 1809, and his own overthrow and exile).
I will get to the film (and I do really recommend watching it) later in this blog, but first we have to know why the merry hell our Scandinavian friends get up to such bizarre antics and activities at this time of year.
I know, I know — the solstice itself isn’t today or tomorrow, but according to Sweden’s Nordic Museum, Midsommar celebrations originally developed from a Christian holiday for John the Baptist, which took place on 24th of June. Rather than always having Midsommar fall on a different day of the week, in 1953 in Sweden it was decided that it should always be on the Friday between the 20th and 26th June. The amount of alcohol consumed by the normally mildly-sober Swedes on this national day of celebration (second only to Christmas, and far outstripping the importance of the true nationaldag) will be somewhere between an Olympic sized swimming pool, or more likely, all four “big lakes” combined: Vänern, Vättern, Mälaren, and Hjälmaren.
There are a number of “practices” or rituals associated with Midsommar, which it is essential to understand prior to attending a “performance” (because this is what it is, family performance art). Full understanding, and highest-level participatory fulfilment, can only happen with the precise group synchronisation of rising blood alcohol levels with subsiding inhibitory brain centres — this is instinctive to the native Swede, much as sorority communities can synchronise menstruation. How else can you explain large circles of people dressed in flowers, hopping and croaking like unsteady over-sized frogs around a tall birch-infused and flower-festooned phallus?
Oh, and the “mid” of midsommar. Where did the first half of summer go, as most Swedish summers are about 6 weeks long, at most, and yet only seem to start around “mid” sommar? Another mystery for the Swedophilic tyro.
The rituals, rites (and wrongs) of Swedish Midsommar
- That song and dance (Små grodorna)!
Let’s start with the one being sung as people hop like frogs. It is known as Små grodorna. Here are the words to the first verse, about the frogs (the next verse is about pigs, but lets please leave that well alone):
Små grodorna, små grodorna är lustiga att se.
Små grodorna, små grodorna är lustiga att se.
Ej öron, ej öron, ej svansar hava de.
Ej öron, ej öron, ej svansar hava de.
Kou ack ack ack, kou ack ack ack,
kou ack ack ack ack kaa.
Kou ack ack ack, kou ack ack ack,
kou ack ack ack ack kaa
This roughly, loosely translates to:
The small frogs, the small frogs are funny to see.
The small frogs, the small frogs are funny to see.
No ears, no ears, no tails have they.
No ears, no ears, no tails have they.
Quack quack quack, quack quack quack,
Quack quack quack quacka.
Quack quack quack, quack quack quack,
Quack quack quack quacka.
Små grodorna is as close to a Swedish line dance as it gets and anyone who’s been to a Swedish Midsommar celebration has seen it performed. People gather around the Maypole and sing this song while jumping forward, mimicking little frogs and touching their ears or “tails” in time with the text. And everybody does it, from 3 year olds to parents, former and present prime ministers, consul generals, rock stars and wrinklies. All thoroughly revelling in their humiliation.
No Swedish Midsummer can be celebrated without these little frogs — just everyone dances ‘Små Grodorna’ but where did the oddly-titled song really come from? Exactly how the song ended up in Sweden is unclear. What we do know is that the melody can be traced first to a French military march from the days of the French Revolution, the so-called Onion Song “Löksången,” or in French ”La Chanson de l’Oignon,” where in the chorus you sing ”Au pas, camarade, au pas camarade / au pas, au pas, au pas!” (In pace, companion!). The Chanson de l’Oignon originated among the grenadiers of Napoleon’s Imperial Guard. Before the Battle of Marengo, Napoleon found some grenadiers rubbing an onion on their bread. “Very good,” he said, “there is nothing better than an onion for marching on the road to glory.”.
The verses of the Chanson de l’Oignon are in 6/8, while the refrain is in 2/4. This has the effect of rendering the verses more lyrical and the refrain more military, though both remain the same tempo as befits a true marching song.
It was France’s sworn enemies who changed the text with classic British irony to ”Au pas, grenouilles!” (In pace, little frogs!); I have a strong suspicion that in the two decades of conflict (1795–1815) between Revolutionary / Napoleonic France and the UK, the British soldiers would have swapped comrade ‘Grenadier’ for ‘grenouille’, the French word for frog. As one of Napoleon’s 18 key Maréchals de France, Jean Bernadotte would then go on to become Regent and Generalissimus in Sweden from around 1810, and King Karl XIV Johan in 1818. So, Swedish, French and English connections are very abundant at that time.
Lyrics (first in French, then in English):
J’aime l’oignon frit à l’huile,
J’aime l’oignon car il est bon.
J’aime l’oignon frit à l’huile
J’aime l’oignon, j’aime l’oignon.
Refrain:
Au pas camarades, au pas camarades,
Au pas, au pas, au pas,
Au pas camarades, au pas camarades,
Au pas, au pas, au pas.
Un seul oignon frit à l’huile,
Un seul oignon nous change en Lion,
Un seul oignon frit à l’huile,
Un seul oignon un seul oignon
Refrain
Mais pas d’oignons aux Autrichiens,
Non pas d’oignons à tous ces chiens,
Mais pas d’oignons aux Autrichiens,
Non pas d’oignons, non pas d’oignons
Refrain
Aimons l’oignon frit à l’huile,
Aimons l’oignon car il est bon,
Aimons l’oignon frit à l’huile,
Aimons l’oignon, aimons l’oignon
Refrain
and now, in English:
I love an onion fried in oil,
I love an onion, it’s so tasty
I love an onion fried in oil,
I love an onion, I love an onion
Refrain: In step, comrades, in step, comrades,
In step, in step, in step
In step, comrades, in step, comrades,
In step, in step, in step
Just one onion fried in oil,
Just one onion turns us into lions
Just one onion fried in oil,
Just one onion, just one onion
Refrain
But no onions for the Austrians,
No, no onions for those dogs
No onions for the Austrians,
No onions, no onions
Refrain
Love the onion fried in oil,
Love the onion, it’s so tasty
Love the onion fried in oil,
Love the onion, we love an onion
Refrain
2. The (other) drinking songs … to be tried if still capable of being erect (come on now, you know what I mean):
If you were wondering what leads the generally reserved Swedes to spend their Midsommar dancing like frogs around a maypole, it may not come as a surprise that alcohol is involved — a lot of it. Along with Christmas, Midsommar is one of the biggest drinking days in Sweden. Watch out for flavoured snaps, which are far stronger than you might guess.
And note that it helps to plan ahead: since alcohol can only be bought at the state-run monopoly which closes its stores on public holidays, the shops get very busy in the days before and may even run low on the most popular beverages.
All this day-drinking comes hand in hand with drinking songs. One of the most common tunes you’ll hear is Helan Går (‘The whole thing goes’, referring to the drink). A loose translation of some of the lyrics would be “Chug it down, Sing ‘hup-de-la-la-la-loo-lah-lay’, chug it down, Sing ‘hup-de-la-la-lah-lay, And he who doesn’t chug it down, then he won’t get the other half either”.
Other popular songs to sing around the Maypole include:
· Och flickan hon går i dansen
· Prästens lilla kråka
· Höga berg och djupa dalar
· Jag gick mig ut en afton
· Sju vackra flickor i en ring
· Så går vi runt om ett enrissnår
· Uppå källarbacken
· Vi äro musikanter
· Karusellen
· Morsgrisar är vi allihopa
· Raketen
3. All the thrill of the sill — herring derring-do
Herring (sill) is a fixture of most Swedish celebrations, and Midsommar is no exception. The Swedes we know very well eat tonnes and tonnes of the stuff, in all its forms: there are jar upon jar of pickled, smoked, fermented, served with onions, served with dill, flavoured with everything from mustard to blackcurrent — there’s just a lot of fish to be chugged down. Everyone familiar with Mel Brooks’ hysterical musical “The Producers” will know how much the statuesque Swedish character receptionist/typist Ulla (Inga Hansen Benson Yansen Tallen Hallen Svaden) relished her herring, just before taking up her daily 11am position.
The surströmming is specially reserved for the foreigners, with a kindly invitation to have the signal honour of opening the tin (with the foreigners wondering why their hosts are all suddenly 1 km upwind).
For several days before the occasion, the local supermarkets sell new potatoes while bunches of fresh dill and chives exchange hands at an alarming rate, disappearing from shelves quicker than you can say Pippi Longstocking.
4. Weather chat, and holiday plans
Small talk might not exactly be a big thing in Sweden, but Swedes do tend to talk about the weather a lot. This is turned up a notch as the three-day Midsommar weekend approaches and the entire country and media keep their fingers crossed for sunshine … but invariably end up with rain, and occasionally even snow. At this point, the disappointing weather, and the chance to moan about it, is all part of the fun.
The 6 weeks Swedish holiday season starts with Midsommar, and is when cities empty and the chalets, holiday homes and other places in the countryside or on islands (from handkerchief size all the way up to Gotland, there are about 28,000 Swedish islands) all start to fill up. Do not even think of trying to conduct any business or meeting during this period. It is just not happening!
5. The flowers
You’ll see people wearing a flower wreath in their hair, regardless of age and gender. Flowers are also used to dress up the maypole.
According to Swedish tradition, you should also pick seven kinds of flowers (in some parts of Sweden it’s nine flowers) and put them underneath your pillow. Then you’ll dream about your future husband or wife.
Swedes also believe that flowers can help them in their love lives. This isn’t just because the garlands will attract potential partners, but rather tradition states that if a Midsommar reveller collects seven different species of flower from seven different spots, then puts the bouquet under their pillow, they will dream of their future spouse that night.
Sweden by the way is very LGBTQA+ friendly.
6. Strawberry watch
Strawberries are another fixture on the Midsommar menu. But for traditionalists, they absolutely have to be Swedish — these are smaller and sweeter than most. This results in months of press coverage about the state of the strawberry harvest — will they be ripe in time for Midsommar? Will the harvest be bigger or smaller than usual? Swedes are fiercely proud of their rather tiny but super sweet variety of strawberries.
7. The Midsommar maypole (Midsommarstången) and Pagan pangs
At the centre of the traditional celebrations is the maypole, in Swedish called the Midsommarstången. And if you were thinking there’s something rather phallic about a tall pole with two large hoops at the top, that’s sort of the point — many people believe it originated as a symbol of fertility.
Others say the shape has its roots in Norse mythology, and that it represents an axis linking the underworld, earth, and heavens. Whichever story you choose to believe, there’s no denying it’s a little strange to have a festival that boils down to erecting a large pole and dancing around it…
On the more ancient and traditional side of Midsommar, some locals would dress themselves in ferns as “green men” to celebrate a season of fertility in the fields (and beyond). Houses, farms, and even farming tools got a green-up, too, with the flowering maypole at the centre of all the festivities. Bonfires and visits to the healing waters of local spas were and continue to be a part of the celebration. And since the date remains the lightest and brightest night of the year, it lends itself to magical thinking: One could discover treasures by tracing moonbeams, learn of a future love by eating salted porridge to see who brings you water in your dreams, or find that water was turned to wine, ferns into flowers, and other plants gained healing properties. The tradition itself has become the country’s most popular festival, but only in the last hundred years or so despite being in existence for more well over a millennium.
And this neatly segues back to the film!
8. The film Midsommar itself
The movie Midsommar was made with a budget of $9 million; it grossed $47.8 million at the Box Office. Midsommar is a 2019 folkloric horror film written and directed by the talented Ari Aster (remember Hereditary from 2018). After watching Midsommar, you might promise yourself three things: That you will never go to Sweden; that you’ll always remember your partner’s birthday; and that you’ll dedicate yourself to the study of ancient runes — you know, just in case.
Scary though the movie undoubtedly is, one reason to go back and rewatch Midsommar is to catch the many and varied references scattered throughout the film, presaging the alarming, disturbing direction the narrative takes. There’s always something compelling and insightful in plain sight but going on in the background; the layers of foreshadowing are many and varied, and the sheer beauty of the pagan artwork is at times as richly artistic as it is deeply cryptic.
As for ritual human sacrifices, known as “blót”, the history gets a little murkier here. There’s the complicated history of Viking-era anthropological finds and the Christian propaganda that complicated stories of ritual sacrifices to Odin and other gods. Some accounts of the rituals claim they may have occurred once every nine years (rather than 90, as seen in the movie) and included sacrifices of humans (likely prisoners of war), livestock, dogs, and other animals on altars or through hanging. Anthropological finds, however, put a focus on sacrifices in wells; Odin was said to have given up one of his eyes in order to drink from Mimir’s Well and thus gain its cosmic knowledge.
In Conclusion:
Get your ass over to Sweden right now, and immerse your body and soul in this amazing ritual; before you do, just learn your runes, and choose your company particularly wisely!
