Florence Pugh has always been willing to give her all to a role. She is currently one of Hollywood’s most acclaimed young actors because of her honest performances and fierce determination. But behind the screen’s brilliance, she once had to face a struggle she didn’t see coming: one with her own mental health.
Pugh talked about how emotionally draining it was for her to film Ari Aster’s psychological horror movie Midsommar on The Louis Theroux Podcast not so long ago. The cult hit from 2019 may have made her famous, but it also left her feeling very unhappy for a long time after the cameras stopped rolling.
“I was sad for about six months after that, and I didn’t know why,” she said. “I got back after filming Little Women, which was a lot of fun and very different from Midsommar.” So I put all of that away. When I returned home for Christmas, I was so sad that I thought, “Oh, I think that’s from Midsommar,” and I didn’t deal with it. I probably shouldn’t do that again.
Her statements highlight a powerful fact that many performers keep to themselves: the thin border between creativity and mental health. Pugh talked on how the deep sadness and misery she had to feel as Dani, a woman who had lost everything and felt alone, started to affect her real life.
The idea behind the movie is quite sad. Ari Aster’s Midsommar follows Dani as she goes to a midsummer festival in a secluded Swedish village with her lover and his friends. Things take a dark turn. The movie is full of sadness, cult practices, and people losing their minds. For Pugh, staying in Dani’s world meant always being in her suffering.
She said, “The movie made me play a character who was in such a bad place in her life.” “I can’t wear myself out like that because it has a knock-on effect.”
That “knock-on effect” turned out to be a long-lasting sadness, which she didn’t know was building up when she was filming. Acting, especially in parts that ask you to be very emotionally open, frequently means using true sentiments of sadness and fear. Pugh said that she “abused” her mental health to be real, going beyond what felt healthy.
In Hollywood, her story isn’t one of a kind. Many actors have said that playing dramatic roles can make it hard to tell the difference between acting and real life. Heath Ledger’s transition into the Joker, Natalie Portman’s physical and emotional hardship during Black Swan, and Joaquin Phoenix’s dramatic absorption for Joker are all reminders that acting can hurt people in ways that aren’t always evident.
After Midsommar, Florence Pugh had to face the consequences of her actions. She didn’t give herself time to relax after finishing the emotionally draining horror movie and going immediately into Little Women, which is a warm, nostalgic, and heartwarming story. The change from gloomy intensity to light-hearted inventiveness didn’t make her feelings go away; it just buried them for a while.
The emotional weight didn’t come back until months later, when she finally eased down. “When I got home for Christmas, I was so sad,” she remarked, remembering the moment she realised that her melancholy was still there because of her old job. “I think that’s from Midsommar, and I didn’t deal with it.”
What makes her statement so stunning is how honest she is about her limits. In an industry that sometimes praises “method acting” and excessive commitment, Pugh’s choice to put her mental health first is refreshing and very genuine. Since then, she has made it obvious that she doesn’t want to play parts that require her to destroy her emotions again.
“I just can’t wear myself out like that,” she replied firmly, admitting that she had learnt her lesson. It’s not that she won’t take on hard roles; she still does. It’s just that she knows how much of herself she can safely offer without losing her balance.
Florence Pugh’s honesty also brings up a bigger problem in the entertainment business: the emotional work that actresses do. Physical stunts are practiced, watched over, and protected by safety rules, but emotional intensity is often not controlled. Actors may spend months living in horrible scenarios, and when the director cries “cut,” they are expected to be OK right away.
People who work in the film industry have long called for wider awareness of this issue. Some producers now hire therapists or intimacy coordinators to be on set, making sure that performers receive mental health support during hard situations. It’s a modest but important step towards keeping safe the people who put their feelings into making stories come to life.
Midsommar was a frightening work of art for audiences. For Pugh, it was both a big step forward in her career and a test of her character. People loved her performance as Dani; it was genuine, heart-wrenching, and unforgettable. But the cost was not clear to viewers. She had to be brave to subsequently tell people what it was really like behind closed doors.
Florence Pugh is still doing well today, starring in well-known films and big franchises, but her acting style has changed. She knows better where her characters end and she begins. This progress doesn’t make her art less good; it makes it better. It shows maturity to know that delivering a good story doesn’t have to hurt you.
Her insight prompts a more profound discourse on creativity and self-preservation. How far should an artist go to be real? Is it worth giving up your mental health to do well? Pugh’s path seems to show that real artistry isn’t about suffering for a role, but about knowing when to take a step back, breathe, and safeguard the part of yourself that isn’t the character.
It’s important and timely for Florence Pugh to be honest in a time when talking about mental health is finally becoming acceptable. Her story shows us that even those who seem powerful and put-together might be fighting wars in their heads. Sometimes, the bravest thing to do is not take on a hard role, but to walk away from one.
We frequently admire how deeply performers can feel while they are on screen, but we forget that those feelings don’t necessarily go away when the cameras stop rolling. Pugh’s story brings that fact to life. It shows us that healing doesn’t happen by ignoring pain; it happens by facing it, respecting it, and deciding to move on in a different way.
Florence Pugh’s time on Midsommar is a great lesson for everyone who puts their heart into their work, not just performers. Passion can be great, but it can also take over your life if you don’t find a balance. Her honesty is a subtle reminder that achievement isn’t worth much if you lose your peace of mind along the road.
