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.
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.