Rosemary's Baby
US 1968, d Roman Polanski
Legendary American schlockmeister William Castle used to liven up his horror cheapies by wiring buzzers to cinema seats. Had he directed Rosemary's Baby, as originally intended, he might have been tempted to do something similar, but when Paramount execs demoted him to co-producer and assigned Polanski to the helm, they didn't need any gimmicks to promote the end result.
Still marrow-chilling more than three-and-a-half decades on, this supremely suggestive psychological thriller (adapted by Polanski himself from Ira Levin's bestseller, with New York-born production designer Richard Sylbert supplying uncredited local expertise) takes the ostensibly routine subject of a woman going through pregnancy while nursing doubts about the identity of the baby's father, and ups the ante to spectacular effect by throwing in witchcraft and demonic possession.
The scene of Rosemary's seduction by demonic forces has dated, resembling a garish simulacrum of a bad LSD trip, but Polanski's almost surgical dissection of her subsequent trauma has survived countless rip-offs and references. He's helped immeasurably by Mia Farrow in the title role, whose wide-eyed little-girl-lost persona was never used to greater effect, while the Oscar-winning Ruth Gordon stands out as her elderly neighbour, whose amiably fussbudget persona conceals infinitely more disturbing depths.
