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When people talk about perfect films I don't actually know what they mean. Perfect for whom? Perfect compared to what? I think that perfection is in the brain and heart of the beholder. "Rosemary's baby" is a perfect film to me. Scary in a way that makes you breathless. You're thinking and feeling throughout the film. One of the many sides of Polanski's genius is to suggest. And what he suggest is so monstrous that we don't want to believe it, but we do. The characters are so perfectly drawn that there is no cheating involved. John Cassavettes's superb study in selfishness and egomaniacal frustration is so real that comes to no surprise that he could do what he does to advance his career, but we are surprised, we're horrified. The spectacular Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer are not Deborah Kerr and David Niven, are they? So that they turn out to be what they turn out to be is totally believable, but Polanski presents it in such a light of normality that you can't believe it. Mia Farrow's predicament is as classic as the boy who cried wolf tale and yet, as told by Roman Polanski in the wonderful face of Mia Farrow, is as if we're hearing it, seeing it and living it for the first time. Every silence, every voice in the distance, every door opening. Your heart is always in your throat. There is something there that accelerates a constant state of dread. Very few movies have been able to take me to that place, most of them by Roman Polanski, what about "The Tenant" or "Repulsion"? Other movies that come to mind: David Lynch's "Eraserhead" and Martin Donovan's "Apartment Zero" But "Rosemary's baby" stands alone as a terrifying masterpiece.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
One might argue Roman Polanski's Rosemary's Baby is not a horror film,
since it lacks almost everything you'll find in almost all of them:
shock moments, vampires, werewolf, serial killers, even blood. The most
graphic scene is a nightmare sequence that displays a rape scene so
stylized it isn't actually disturbing. But one might also argue that
Rosemary's Baby is a horror film in its purest form, since it doesn't
depend on all those gimmicks to create its atmosphere. I prefer the
latter point of view.
So what is happening in this film? Rosemary and Guy Woodhouse move to a
new apartment. Their neighbors are Roman and Minnie Castevet, an
elderly couple. Although they are very friendly, there is something
strange about them - the sounds that come from their apartment, the
fact they remove all the pictures from their walls when the Woodhouses
visit and other things like that. While Rosemary tries to keep a
certain distance from them, Guy is very fond of the relationship to his
new neighbors, and especially Minnie becomes more and more obtrusive,
especially when Rosemary finds out she's pregnant - she recommends her
another (better, as she says) gynecologist's and mixes a (healthy, as
she says) herbal drink for her every day.
The pregnancy, however, develops rather unpleasant: Rosemary keeps
feeling pain in her stomach and she becomes thinner (Pregnant women are
supposed to gain, not lose weight, a visiting friend observes), and
when the pain doesn't stop after several months, she begins to believe
that her neighbors, her gynecologist's and even her husband conspired
against her and want to harm the baby she's carrying.
All this is told by Roman Polanski in the perfect tone; the mood for
the entire film is already set during the opening credits when we hear
that weird lullaby, sung by Mia Farrow. And a lot of strange things
happen throughout the entire film: Guy and Rosemary are told by Hutch,
a friend of theirs, about the horrific past of the house they're now
living in, a young girl that lives with the Castevets commits suicide
(really a suicide?), Guy, an actor, gets the role he wanted so badly
after the contestant who was originally supposed to play it turns
blind, and Hutch, who might have found something out that would help
Rosemary, suddenly is in a coma and dies three months later; all these
(and a few other) events are precisely dosed by Polanski to draw us
more and more into the film, while he makes sure on the other hand that
the film doesn't become absurd. And he manages to give the film an
ending that works, makes sense and is observant, slightly (but only
slightly) funny and very disturbing, all at once.
Rosemary's Baby also contains two of the most memorable performances
ever: Mia Farrow is haunting as Rosemary Woodhouse. She looks like she
is physically suffering from her pregnancy and close to complete
despair. And Ruth Gordon is amazing as the curious Minnie Castevet,
always friendly, but also giving you the feeling that, hidden behind
her generosity, she actually follows her own, obscure motives. If you
have a helpful elderly female neighbor, you'll see her with other eyes
once you've encountered Minnie Castevet. So, if you think a real horror
film needs shock moments, vampires, werewolf, serial killers or at
least blood - watch Rosemary's Baby and you'll change your mind.
Every bit of acclaim that Rosemary's Baby has earned is totally deserved.
The Dakota, located at 72nd and Central Park West, is the perfect setting
for the demonic events; all that rich Gothic detail in the heart of
Manhattan provides the perfect atmosphere, serving as a dark fairy-tale
world of its own within the modern setting. Roman Polanski knows this and
utilizes it brilliantly, opening the film with stunning aerial shots of the
skyline and focusing in on the ornate castle amongst the skyscrapers and
tenements.
The acting is fantastic, particularly Mia Farrow, who is the only person I
can envision as Rosemary. Her fine-boned fragility makes her the ideal
target for terror. She goes from obliviousness to suspicion to fear to near
madness without showing a seam, and we as the audience are with her all the
way. And Mia is given a run for her money by the delightful Ruth Gordon, a
comical yet sinister presence popping in on a deliberate schedule with pale
green drinks and sandpapery advice. She's scary because we know her--a batty
old broad with a seemingly sweet nature beneath her caustic surface. That
such a person could possibly be a vessel of evil is a thoroughly unnerving
concept.
Unnerving is the proper adjective for the entire movie. Unnerving, eerie,
and penetratingly frightening in a very subtle manner. The subtlety is key,
since a more explicit treatment would've spoiled everything. As the tension
heightens, we feel what Rosemary feels: Curiosity, then vague suspicion,
then paralyzing terror at the final revelation. At all times, the movie
retains its dignity, from the opening and closing shots of the building to
the flourishing title script to the beautiful music. Even on TV, this
picture can chill you to the bone. The best big-budget horror movie of all
time.
Why aren't the horror directors of today as careful with their scripts as
Polanski was? Not that this is really horror. Horror as we know it came
into being with the slasher flicks of the late 1970s and early 1980s;
"Rosemary's Baby" is rather the kind of thing that the term "dark fantasy"
was coined to describe, by people of taste who noticed that the word
"horror" promised audiences something distinctly unpleasant and
nasty.
The film's construction is marvellous. Things start slow - one beat, so to
speak, to a bar - and gradually pick up speed so that by the end we are
nervously tapping out semiquavers with our feet. Polanski also understands
the gentle art of hint-dropping. Many events are filed away as tiny puzzles
to be solved later, and they ARE solved later; others we don't attach any
particular significance to at the time Polanski invites us to re-interpret
in retrospect, AND chooses the right moment to let us do so. And then, at
the end, AFTER we've worked everything out, he presents us with a surprise -
a delightful, gratuitous twist which nothing had prepared us for, which we
couldn't have guessed, yet which doesn't cancel out the story as we'd
understood it. (Alas, many people know what this surprise is in advance.
I, for one. Yet this foreknowledge did nothing to spoil my enjoyment: a
sure sign of superb construction.)
All in all, a film that tempts you to rank it with the best ever made -
which is more, but not much more, than it deserves - simply because it's
perfect. Everything went right. Rosemary is a wonderfully sympathetic
heroine, powerless without being passive, largely ignorant of what's going
on around her without being at all stupid, and Mia Farrow makes you care
deeply about her. The cinematography is pellucid; the art direction is
subtly right; there's also a fine, odd yet tuneful, musical score. I can't
believe I waited so long to see this.
I'm not sure about that but Rosemary's baby has got to be one of the
best, if not the best, psychological supernatural thrillers ever made.
The real test of a good movie(or one of them) is can it hold up to
multiple viewings? In this case-oh yes.
I cannot even count how many times I have seen this. A good-really
good-"scary movie" must have more then the ability to merely scare, it
must have the ability to haunt. Rosemary's baby is a movie where
certain scenes become etched in memory. Movie as good as book which is
almost a non existent thing.
This is not a slow moving picture at all or at least I don't see it as
one. What this movie does, as does another Levin creation, Stepford
wives, is lure you in. There maybe moments that are not scary but as it
goes on and you keep watching you start to get more and more creeped
out-the atmosphere is what does it-even if someone were tuning in and
didn't know this story already-the creepy feeling that something's very
wrong is still there strongly from the beginning, strengthening in tone
as you get deeper into the picture until by the end and the final few
scenes your blown away.This is definitely more subtley and
atmospherically creepy then a "boo" in your face scare fest like
"scream". It is the type of movie you very rarely see anymore.
If anyone, by chance has NOT seen it they are missing someone-I don't
recall seeing this in the IMDb top 250-while I'm not sure I'd put it in
my top 10, I still think this maybe should be there, in IMDb'S top 250,
it's been an influence on so many other movies and so few movies have
been able to follow the movie's lead in the same well done way.
"Rosemary's Baby" is one of the best horror films ever made. This isn't
because it's going to scare the pants off you with a series of sensational
jolts. This isn't the shallow, gimmicky kind of horror movie we mostly get
these days, and it isn't the traditional old-fashioned horror film of an
earlier era. This is a movie that came out during a period of transition in
Hollywood. The old production codes were breaking down and films could
suddenly be more true to life in the way they showed how people really
lived, acted and talked. 1968s "Rosemary's Baby" is a more sophisticated,
less elegant thriller of the kind that Alfred Hitchcock patented, but it
displays much more class and intelligence than the horror movies that would
come out in its wake. Popular '70s films such as "The Exorcist" and "The
Omen" are the prodigy of "Rosemary's Baby," but offer far less nuance and
much greater vulgarity. What we get here is a more naturalistic depiction
of modern life, but without the crassness that would soon explode into
American cinema.
Most of the credit for what makes "Rosemary's Baby" such a successful film
goes to Roman Polanski. Polanski is a master at conveying to an audience
not just a sense of the uncanny but a vivid depiction of it. His earlier
films like "Knife in the Water," "Repulsion" and "Dance of the Vampires,"
display the talents that would come to such a controlled mastery in
"Rosemary's Baby."
Polanski very faithfully adapts Ira Levin's novel to the screen so that the
viewer is, just as the reader was, free to interpret the eerie events of the
story as either reality or a depiction of an isolated woman's decent into
madness. At the same time the picture can be taken as a black joke on the
human male's fears of the changes a woman goes through during pregnancy,
both physically and emotionally. But Polanski seems most interested in
presenting a normal world, in this case Manhattan in the mid 1960s, and then
through subtle cinematic techniques get an audience to actually believe that
the hysterical, fantastic ravings of the heroine could be true. It is this
tour de force exercise in suspension of disbelief that makes the film a
classic. The horror films that have come since have had to ratchet up the
shock effects in order to thrill more desensitized audiences, but this
deliberately paced film reminds us of how much better it is to leave things
to the imagination of the viewer. That is where films really come alive and
remain so.
The Paramount DVD presents an excellent print of the movie that looks as if
it were shot yesterday, along with extras that include new interviews with
Polanski, executive producer Bob Evans and production designer Richard
Sylbert, and a featurette from the time of the film's original release that
really works as a good time capsule.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Pregnancy is the time in a woman's life that, despite the hormone
imbalance and the emotional changes, is charged in an overwhelming
among of love and support and the notion that she is slowly gestating a
human life, male or female, a child that will bring her (and her
family) happiness. Motherhood has been depicted as beautiful, symbolic,
Woman being Creation in progress in ancient cultures, a Thing to
venerate and respect and even worship, Something capable of ensuring
the continuation of a family line, a tradition, and hence, life and
culture for an entire strata of society. Nothing is supposed to go
wrong, or at least, not at the level of what happens to Rosemary
Woodhouse's pregnancy, which is the ultimate wrong thing.
What Ira Levin seems to want to tell us in this "plot" surrounding
Rosemary's pregnancy is that society and its religious tradition can be
substituted by something much more sinister, as-yet unseen but gestant
-- the force of will, the creation of Man's own version of what he
believes will be the new wave of humanity. Is God dead? Well,
considering the timing of the novel and the movie with society's
disillusionment with Establishment, the onset of Vietnam, the loss of
innocence of a country just years ago with the deaths of John F.
Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, and Martin Luther King, He just as well may be.
Religion and religious figures pop up during the movie, but seem unable
to bring any comfort and only add to the vague sense of unease that
permeates ROSEMARY'S BABY.
And this nagging unease is precisely what both author and director give
us: something not quite, completely there, something that seems to be
happening just off-limits, barely overheard through the flimsy walls
which divide these prewar apartment buildings converted into chic,
livable spaces. The way the banal elements that are so much a part of
our lives are overthrown so subtly makes the horror that is the movie's
denouement even more tragic. Surely the nice neighbors can't be more
than just that -- they're so helpful... well, maybe a little too
helpful. Surely the death of that girl Rosemary befriends was just a
freak suicide. Surely the doctor's recommendations for Rosemary are the
best -- don't doctor's always know what's good for us? And surely,
one's own partner would not have done the unthinkable in order to
advance professionally now, would he?
Paranoia of the unseen is a powerful way to tell a horror story without
ever giving away any shock cuts or showing the boogeyman. While it
becomes abundantly clear early on that this is a story of witchcraft of
the worst kind, the only time some of it makes its way in front of the
camera is in the extremely stylized ritual/rape scene, and even then,
since Rosemary is having what might be the worst nightmare of her life,
one isn't quite sure of what is happening, and of course, in the end,
when all is revealed in a comic yet horrific way. That takes skill in a
storyteller and what makes ROSEMARY'S BABY so completely disturbing
even now, almost forty years from its release unto the public. Also the
fact that it never relies on a twist ending so common today but on the
nuanced performance of the actors portraying real urbanites enhances:
from Mia Farrow who carries the movie and even at the end retains a
resigned innocence to her fate once her suspicions are facts to John
Cassavettes who plays his part slimy straight, and supporting actors
Ruth Gordon and Sydney Blackmer who have the hard task of making kindly
and eccentric hide sinister just underneath. Their performance makes
you wonder who exactly are your neighbors, and if they might be
harboring some deadly lifestyle, and makes you feel uneasy being alone
even in an empty hallway or accepting anyone's offered smoothie.
This is definitely one of the best horror films ever made. The conspiracy that Rosemary goes throughout the film is truly creepy. What makes it so scary is that she goes trusting her husband and 'friends' without any idea of what really is happening to her. The rape scene is horrifying, very intense and at its best for the horror genre. "Rosemary's Baby" is a great horror film, there are no posessions, no gore, but the film is intense in content. It has power to make the audience nervous, tense and very scared. -********** A perfect 10.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
There are only a tiny handful of horrorfilms that really deserve the
superlative outstanding, but Rosemary's Baby is definitely on my
personal list and damn near the top of the column.
Elements of the supernatural are present; the murderous coven, the
devil come to earth, the use of juju to destroy the enemy. But all of
these things are at nothing compared to the real horror in Rosemary's
life: that she is nothing more then a gestation vessel for her
ambitious husband, the gory eccentrics in her building, and the most
powerful demon in the Christian pantheon. No one takes her seriously in
any other capacity. Even at the end, her last bit of resistance is
broken down as Roman Castavet eases her into the role of the "mother of
destruction".
I don't think it's any coincidence that Ira Levin wrote this novel or
that it became such a huge hit in the sixties, when birth control pills
became household words and the first open battles for legal abortion
were being waged and won. The strength of this film is that it deals
with social issues (reproductive rights) that were actively bouncing
between the ears of the greater population of this country, and yet
still doesn't become a tedious piece of social realism or agitprop.
The cast of the film is remarkable. Mia Farrow plays a woman
protagonist who is far more self identified then the usual female
victim in a Gothic, Guy Cassevetes plays a treacherous husband whose
actions are beneath contempt, both performances are very precise. The
film bounces adroitly from the high camp of Elija Cook's fastidious
building superintendent to the great white fatherliness seen in Maurice
Evan's character Hutch. The use of Ruth Gordon is inspired, having
Sidney Blackmer play straight man to her zaniness even more so. The
very fine comedienne Patsy Kelly shows up as a more obstreporous member
of the coven, Ralph Bellamy is sedate and subdued as the suave warlock
Sapperstein. And somehow or other, director Roman Polanski managed to
tie all these energies together and create a solid, consistent package
with a subdued pace that is both hysterical and chilling at the same
time. It is one powerful satire.
Finally, the film contains one very strong nightmare sequence. Dreams
are scary, Neil Gaiman reminds us,but there are few portrayed on film
as strikingly as the one Rosemary has under a drug induced slumber on
the night of her demonic group rape and the child's conception.
Rosemary's Baby is a magnificent effort. And I believe it set a
standard that every new horror film should be measured against, just as
the film 2001 has become for many admirers of science fiction one of
the benchmarks of that genre.
Rosemary, in Mia Farrow's performance, is so immediately recognizable that everything that happens to her, happens to us. Her explanation to Dr Hill (Charles Grodin) about the absurdity she's at the center of, is so brilliantly written that she becomes more than just one of us, she becomes us in all the depth of our unspoken fears. To see this film in 2007 is really amazing. Perfection! And that for our benefit. Polanski is not one of those directors who concocts camera tricks to feed his own ego. Everything is at the service of the story. John Cassavettes is a scarily convincing weakling with an ambition bigger than his talent. Ruth Gordon got, what I, in my modest opinion, consider one of the most deserving Oscars in the history of the Oscars. Her performance is beyond superb. Okay, I'm running out of superlatives but let me finish with one more...Roman Polanski is the greatest.
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