Review of Rosemary's Baby (1968) by Harpreet K — 20 Sep 2011

Figuring out the meaning inevitably leads to befuddlement as the film can be read and interpreted in various ways. The first time I watched Rosemary's Baby was after being fed considerable praise and hype--so much that I caught myself loving a film I hadn't yet seen, mimicking respected critics opinions on the psychological 'shock and awe' of Polanski's eerie tale and the sheer power the film contains because of its legendary director. Having just watched the film on the big screen for the first time, with a full audience of filmgoers, my take on the film differs from watching it privately on small screens. Understandably, an audience on a Saturday evening wants to laugh, yet I felt the spontaneous spurts of laughter, from members of the audience, at times wasn't what the director intended to elicit.

For me, having an audience made it an entirely different movie. My first few views of the film were curious, and elicited in me an eerie, creepy feeling, and pity for the tormented young woman entrapped by evil forces. I don't remember the quality of the film as being so grainy, but perhaps digital-video technology has remastered the film to give the DVD version a cleaner look. The dizzying onscreen activity, by the circus of witches surrounding Rosemary, gave the film a playfulness I also didn't recall. The conception scene in which Rosemary is raped by a clawing creature was darkly erotic, surreal, and shocking, rendering dream and reality a hopeless blur. The melodic lullaby score descends into a hypnotic version-- the high notes and the piano give way to an electronic keyboard producing psychedelic, fluctuating, vacillating tones as Rosemary battles demons that are undeniably real to her. Indeed, the beauty of Polanski's picture is the plausible deniability of Rosemary's conviction--that her pre-born infant is fathered by Satan, with whom Guy has made a pact: Help entrap Rosemary and receive success and fame. With use of their voodoo and black magic, the den of witches curse actors that get in the way of Guy's own show-business aspirations. In exchange, Guy helps keep his wife hostage by the circus, insisting to her that everything is normal, there is no problem. Rosemary's desperation verges on delirium--her story ratchets up ever more frantically. Who would believe poor Rosemary? Claiming that witches have chosen her to spawn Satan's only son, not many people would. A certain question lingers: Is it all in her head? Or are the people that have pushed themselves into her life really all...witches? In the end, she cannot but love her child, no matter if the rapist that fathered it is Satan himself.

With first-rate, if over-the-top and, at times, hammy performances all around, great camera work, an excellent original score, spooky entertainment, the film is very much a product of its time. A psychological thriller unlike anything seen before, it's a film even better for it's imperfection--meant to give the viewers rich dark humor, whimsical theatricality, and a very real dose of the occult.