Well. Two days ago we viewed Roman Polanksi's Rosemary's Baby (1968) in film class. Over the last two days I've tried to think of something to say about it, and at this moment I'm still not 100% sure what I think. I think it's the ending that threw me off, more than anything else.
The ending, where Rosemary (Mia Farrow) confronts her demonic progeny in the midst of the Satanic coven run by her next door neighbors, is, for me, one of the most inexplicable scenes in cinematic history. It's hard at first, second, and even third glance to truly grasp the intention of this scene. One assumes that it is intentionally humorous because of the simultaneously non-chalant and over-the-top nature of the scene. You don't have characters screaming "GOD IS DEAD! HAIL SATAN!" while dressed in house clothes and sipping tea, or acting as if the distraut, knife-wielding Rosemary's biggest problem is being out of bed, or Asians excitedly taking snapshots of the Anti-Christ, and expect to be taken seriously, do you? It seems that the intent of the scene is a sort of satire of religion (which we'll deal with presently); but after all of the suspenseful and horrific build-up to this moment, it turns out to be a poorly done and painfully stupifying anti-climax, on the level of The Game and There Will Be Blood for sheer audience-insulting stupidity.
A pity, as the film was a reasonably effective thriller up to that point. It involves a young couple, Guy Woodhouse (John Cassavettes), a struggling actor, and his pretty and perky young wife Rosemary (Farrow). They move into a New York City apartment with a long and tragic history of murders, accidents, and suicides - and witchcraft. They befriend their neighbors, the elderly Castavets (Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer), but after a terrifying night of drug-induced sex with her husband, Rosemary becomes pregnant and finds her life unravelling. Attended to obsessively by the Castavets, her husband, and Dr. Saperstein (Ralph Ballamy), Rosemary's health deteriorates, and she immediately begins to suspect that something is wrong, and that her baby is in danger. Turns out, of course, that her neighbors are witches who are planning to use her baby as the anti-Christ. I don't know about you, but I hate it when that happens.
On a technical level, Polanski achieves a lot of praise. The film is wonderfully banal, establishing its horror within a purely realistic and dull situation. When one calls the annoying, gabby old bag next door a witch, they generally aren't speaking literally - but you never know. The movie isn't really scary, but then it doesn't much try to be scary in any classical sense, more disconcerting and nightmarish than anything else. If there were a payoff at the end, this would be even more worthy of praise; Polanski goes the wise route by leaving the whole story open to interpretation until, well, the ending. The film's high point is undoubtedly the sex scene, the skillful editing of Rosemary's various drug-induced dreams and the horrifying reality of what's happening to her is a brilliant, surreal bit of editing; it's perhaps the closest one could come to conveying a fever dream on screen. The acting is pretty good; Mia Farrow manages to make Rosemary's increasingly adrift state and growing suspicions highly believable, John Cassavettes is convincing as perhaps the ultimate Horse's Ass (he sells out God, Rosemary, and the entire human race for a part in a play - thanks, jackass), Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer are quite funny as the unlikely witches, and Maurice Evans has an effective but all-too-brief part as the film's resident Van Helsing/Dr. Loomis/Detective Arbogast/etc..
Of course, the movie has some interesting subtext which an aspiring film student such as myself feels obliged to delve into. The movie serves most obviously as a metaphor for the many traumas which women go through during pregnancy. Rosemary is relegated by her pregnancy to a passive role, unable really to protect herself, and she is effectively controlled by her husband and her neighbors; she is at the mercy of an unhelpful doctor and friends and family a bit too interested in her pregnancy. Of course, there are her own fears about the baby, as she continues experiencing pain, discomfort, and horrifying dreams, which prove quite reasonable when the baby turns out to be not crippled or retarded, but the Messenger of Evil (and a distant cousin of Damien, no doubt).
That's pretty obvious subtext, but our film class felt it much more fruitful (pun not intended) to explore the undeniable religious subtext of the film. Besides the Satanist's continual mockery of religion (blasted as being "all spectacle"), the movie plays as an inverted view on religion and its role in society, family, and pregnancy. I succinctly offer this reading: The movie is REALLY about a woman being forced to have a baby she doesn't want by her family and the Church. Abortion and contraception are not an option, regardless of how desirable they may be. The movie hints at this reading throughout, from the aforementioned commentary by supporting characters, to the flashbacks to Rosemary's Catholic school upbringing, to the otherwise inexplicable scene where Rosemary, in her fever dream state, kissing the Pope's ring (which is the same as her Satanic "good luck charm"). The ending is an obvious mirror image of the Nativity, down to the inverted crucifix over the baby's crib. A magazine posing the question "Is God dead?" shows the dilemna at stake here. (One must ask, however: If God is dead, how can Satan exist?) Clearly, religion has not only become hypocritical and reduced to spectacle, it has also turned to worshipping Satan.
So, that's all well and good - "Interesting, very interesting, perhaps even true" - and for the most part adds up to a quality film. But what the fuck is up with that climax? Please answer me that question. Who the Hell thought it would be a good idea to completely ruin the suspense and horror with such a hamfisted bit of satire (assuming of course it isn't NOT trying to be funny but is just so over-the-top it's lame)? Damn you, Polanski.
In conclusion, Rosemary's Baby is a decent entry in the demonic cult/pregnant woman subgenre of horror film, with many technical merits, interesting subtext, and pretty good acting. But what the fuck is up with that climax? I'd give it a 7 or perhaps even an 8 on its own merits, but what the fuck is up with that climax? It buggers description and classification, and as a result I refuse to rate the movie out of principle.
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