Varietal: Bold, Spicy Red
Vintner: Roman Polanski
Vintage: 1968
Vineyard: Paramount

by Brian.


At some point in the history of film, the Horror genre became the bastard child of Hollywood. Somewhere amid the relentless onslaught of Nightmares on Elm Street or Friday the 13ths, Horror went from a credible notch on one's career to lo-fi paying of the bills or tests of marketing prowess to cover the entire budget on its opening weekend (knowing full well no one will be interested in such crap after the Monday morning water cooler). For these unknown reasons, great films like Rosemary's Baby are gone forever.

The first thing that one picks up while viewing a classic horror film like Rosemary's Baby is that there is no horror. That is not to say that the film is not scary (for which it is incredibly scary!), but that the prime factor in all horror films is missing: gore, shock spurts of blood, spears through the heart, intricate death scenes involving a lawn mower, a garage door, an evil spruce tree, and several tape measures. This film does not show horror; it examines it, for the ideas behind this film unleash a far greater terror than any decapitation or boogeyman.

It is not surprising that many of the great protagonists of Horror are women. For every kinky co-ed skewered to her boyfriend in a manner that transcends symbolism, there is a Jamie Lee Curtis, Sigourney Weaver, and yes even Mia Farrow showing strength far greater than any man in her position ever could. Whether social stigma or physiological fact brings more vulnerability to women is irrelevant, for we see what Horror filmmakers intends in either case. To show a man struggle against his fear is not macho, not acceptable enough to warrant truly great character. The men in Horror either conspire to evil or die, for there is no room for them otherwise. The women however, are open to such fears, believably paralyzed by it, ultimately making their eventual triumph or escape that much more exhilarating.

Rosemary Woodhouse is no exception. I invite the female readers to imagine the worst possible thing that could happen to you. A baby taken away from you? A baby that is inherently evil? A husband's dirty betraying secrets? Now put them all together and we have a woman's ultimate nightmare on film. It's a testament to Roman Polanski to bring this insane premise to the screen realistically without being overt. Nothing is as scary as a dream through Polanski's eye.

That said, I most admire this film for staying true to its intentions. This film could not end without an unholy fête of demonic ritual. The sight of Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer chanting "HAIL SATAN" into camera at the apex of insanity that Rosemary has finally reached. If we are to travel with her through the entire film, to climb the entire mountain of madness with her, to pull back before we reach the summit would cheapen the experience and ultimately hobble the film.

Unlike The Omen's faux-enigmatic climax, one can neither factually conclude that Rosemary has given birth to a demon, nor consequently agree that she has gone insane and tried to hurt herself in her paranoia. Of course Polanski takes great pain to invite us into her mind through the film so we clearly have a preferred take on things, but noir teaches us that Point of View is, in its final analysis, subjective

To me, this film is a very bold red, possibly Chianti. It is not afraid of its flavor, and displays it nicely with style and grace. Whether you see this film as ridiculous or genius (or perhaps both), you cannot refute its originality and strength.


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