Rosemary's Baby / Roman Polanski (1968)
Rosemary and her husband, Guy Woodhouse, move into a new building. We learn quickly that Guy (John Cassavetes) is a not-so-successful actor. The apartment is stunning, and they decide to take it. Then, Rosemary is led quietly into a stunning deception.
Rosemary's Baby is a rare film that has gotten more relevant with age. Her husband, her neighbors, people all around Rosemary tell her what is happening to her. Despite her own feeling that something is off, she follows. Even when her friends tell her how crazy it sounds at her baby shower, she's unsure. The story of women being ignored by medical professionals and forced into rabbit holes of wives' tales and their own research seems as current as ever.
Before Rosemary's Baby even begins, director Roman Polanski tells us half the story. The opening image looks slightly downward at a dense cluster of anonymous New York City apartment buildings. Then, in flowery pink script, the title appears. The contrast carries on as the credits fade on and off, shots move us from packed brick boxes, until we're looking nearly straight down at The Bramford apartment house. Without a single word, we understand this is an ambitious move.
Polanski's restrained direction makes the ordinary life seem strangely suspicious and the supernatural feel disturbingly plausible. Marriage, pregnancy, medicine and home become mechanisms of control. By the time Rosemary (Mia Farrow in an all-time horror performance) understands what has happened, the film has already made its central horror clear. Everyone she trusted has volunteered her for their own desired fate.
Rosemary plays an expecting mother with the perfect balance of concern and naiveté. She has her own ideas about what pregnancy should be like, but she's trusting her husband, her experienced neighbors and their highly recommended doctor.
Cassavetes' Guy seems like he's really scored with Rosemary. He's handsome, but a little uncouth for Farrow's refined Rosemary. He's rushed in a way she's not. He's been bullshitting his way through a lackluster career and failing upwards. This matters because it tells the audience that he is convincing. She trusts him. She believes him.
The Bramford is a character. It feels lived in and real, not like a series of haunted house sets. It's mundane as are the people who live in it. The Castavets (Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer) feel like New Yorkers, not Satan worshipping witches. But they are just eccentric enough, like the decor of the Bramford, to always leave one extra element to be found by the viewer that Rosemary misses or misinterprets.
There are frequent reminders to time advancing. There are dates, and ticking clocks over scoreless silence. Rosemary's Baby is patiently insisting that time is moving forward. This baby is inevitable. Few films are this disciplined. The audience is given information that Rosemary isn't, or that she seems to overlook. But it's never enough information to fully grasp what is happening. Instead, it's enough information to create a discomfort that builds scene by scene.
This is no dream! This is really happening!
Rosemary's Baby contains a rape scene, disguised as a dream sequence, perceived as consensual marital sex. Only halfway through the scene does Rosemary realize she's not having sex with Guy. A few beats later, she senses the creature assaulting her is inhuman. Then, she senses the dream is real. She can't make it make sense.
The disorientation is true for viewers piecing together clues. Polanski lays out everything but the audience is still left with the distinct impression that it could still be in her mind. Dr. Sapirstein (Ralph Bellamy) is evil, isn't he? He's giving her potions instead of vitamins. He's present at the ritual.
Or is he giving her vitamins naturally, via real, wholesome food made by Rosemary's neighbor, Minnie (Ruth Gordon)? Is he really caring, despite seeming cold? Maybe he's just trying to remain professional and confident. Who can say? These are the questions any first time expecting mother may have about a new doctor. Here, we have evidence he's part of a cabal trying to summon the child of Satan. Don't we?
That can't be. As Rosemary begins to question things for herself, she runs into the real horror. Whether it's true or not, she has nowhere to turn. She brings her concern about Dr. Sapirstein to her personal doctor (a gorgeous Charles Grodin) who immediately calls Sapirstein to the office to confront her.
But she persists in researching and questioning. Their old landlord and friend, Hutch (Maurice Evans) gives her a book on witchcraft and a clue about who she's really looking for. She uses her wits, and some Scrabble tiles, to figure out who she's dealing with and get a sense of what they've been doing to her.
The more she learns about what Guy has planned for her, for them, the further she gets from any hope of escaping it. Guy shrugs her off. Every person she comes into contact with is either in on it, or passes her to someone who is. Rosemary isn't some vulnerable horror movie victim. She's plugged in to every reputable support system that exists (especially in 1968!). She's not stupid. Every person she comes into contact with is either in on it, or passes her to someone who is.
Key scene
Spoilers below.
Finding her baby. After giving birth, Rosemary wakes in her bedroom with a neighbor (Patsy Kelly) by her side. Rosemary immediately asks about the baby. She's given reassuring but evasive answers. She should rest. The baby is being taken care of. Everything is fine. Then Rosemary hears a baby crying.
She gets out of bed and follows the sound, discovering that her baby isn't in her apartment. He's been moved into the apartment next door. The Castevets' apartment.
When Rosemary enters, the coven is gathered around the baby. It's as absurdly ordinary as any gathering. They're talking casually. The Satanic conspiracy that has been hiding beneath Rosemary's daily life is now happening in the middle of what looks like a luncheon.
Rosemary approaches the crib. She is horrified. Roman tells her there is nothing to be afraid of. Then he reveals to her, the baby is Satan's son. Guy made a deal with the coven. The career he wanted in exchange for this child.
But Rosemary's reaction doesn't end with horror. She looks again. She can't unsee the baby as her own. The people around her regard the baby as something miraculous. Despite being frightening and unnatural, Rosemary is still his mother. She moves toward the crib. She touches him. Then she begins to rock it.
It's an amazing reversal. The movie has spent two hours making pregnancy and motherhood increasingly terrifying, and its final image is Rosemary performing one of the most ordinary acts of motherhood imaginable. She doesn't defeat the coven. She doesn't escape. She doesn't reject the baby. She stays.
And that is perhaps the strangest part of the ending. Rosemary has been stripped of nearly every choice she could make, but the coven cannot completely control what she feels toward her child. Whether she is surrendering, surviving, accepting motherhood, or simply doing the only thing she can do is left unresolved.
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