Saturday, June 22, 2013

Rosemary's Baby Revisited

The current season of Mad Men has used Roman Polanski's classic 1968 horror film Rosemary's Baby as a reference point, both explicitly and implicitly, on numerous occasions.  But I'm not so much interested here in how Rosemary's Baby impacts this season's story arc, as with the movie itself.  I recently went back and saw it again after many years.  The first time I saw it was as a teenager, and I actually fell asleep during it.  Now as an adult I was riveted and repulsed all at once.  I finally got why my parents, and so many who were adults in the late 60's condemned the film as shockingly sacrilegious.  Today I'm not sure that many, especially those who have grown up on contemporary blood and guts horror, will get just how truly frightening, and subversive, this film is, because it's not here to gross you out, but rather works on a much more subtle level to rob you of your hope.

I will be making references often to the Ira Levin novel, so before going on, I must note that I never read it.  I feel comfortable though because every article I read in preparing this post, including one by Ira Levin himself, say that Roman Polanski made what could be the single most faithful filmed adaptation of a book in Hollywood history.  He was so slavish in following the source material that the author wondered if the Polish director, making his first U.S. movie, did this on purpose or simply didn't understand that he was at liberty to change things if he wanted to.  A friend of mine who has read it tells me that he likes it better than the movie, and that it has a humorous streak the film lacks that breaks up the doom and gloom.  Summer is here, so maybe I'll add it to my reading list, but I digress...

For the uninitiated, Rosemary's Baby follows the story of a young couple (Mia Farrow and John Cassevetes) who moves into an old apartment house in Manhattan with a creepy reputation.  They are soon befriended by the Castevet's, an elderly couple (Sidney Blackmer and Ruth Gordon, in her Oscar winning role) who insinuate themselves into their lives.   Once Rosemary gets pregnant, under very disturbing circumstances,  the Castevet's and the other senior citizen tenants begin to micromanage her care, from what home made medicines she takes to what doctor she will see.  Her health begins to decline, but her husband Guy insists that she stays the course.  Little by little she begins to suspect something evil is afoot, but finds little support from the people closest to her.  The one person who does lend a hand, her friend Hutch (Maurice Evens), meets mysterious end.

The film, as with the Ira Levin novel it's based on, takes place between the fall of 1965 and June '66 (get the three 6's reference?).  One similarity between Mad Men and this supernatural thriller is that Levin wrote his story in "real time," taking events that actually happened during those months, like a public transit strike and Pope Paul VI's visit to New York, and mixed them into his fictional timeline.  In truth he was writing just after these events, and knowingly or not was touching on some important themes of the era that have effects on us still.

Levin's exact motives in choosing to turn "the Mary and Joseph story on it's head," as he put it, are unclear.   On the one hand he knew that he was playing with literary fire, and was worried about a backlash from Christians, especially Catholics, prior to the book's release in 1967.  On the other he claimed no deep message or purpose other than to write a scary story that would make money to feed his family.  But if a story, even a misguided and blasphemous one like this, is accurate somehow in its depiction of human nature or the times it takes place in it will bring out certain truths, even if the author doesn't intend it.  In the mid '60's the relevance of organized religion in the public square was on the wane.  We were seeing a growing mistrust of public institutions in general that would have it's full flowering in the aftermath of the Watergate Scandal a few years later.   As for religion, God may not have been dead, but to many He was becoming background noise as opposed to the main reference point of their lives.  But what replaces God and religion, and what is our defense against the nefarious forces lined up against us when these things are not there or recognized?  Rosemary's Baby captures this dilemma perfectly.


Rosemary is a woman caught in the midst of the social and sexual revolutions of the sixties.  She is unsure about religion, having been raised a Catholic but now harboring doubts.  She is sexually assertive, yet does show a deference to her husband Guy that is hard to imagine today.  She clearly wants a child, and reacts angrily when she thinks friends are suggesting an abortion after it becomes clear that her health is declining.  In general she is obedient to the people around her, showing only passive resistance, but otherwise lets events happen to her.  Once she does begin to try to take control she is treated as insane.  This has been varyingly interpreted as promoting both feminist and anti-feminist agendas.  I'm not sure it does either, but reflects the author's nonjudgmental view of life at that time. 

There is also much debate as to whether the satanic elements of the story are real or just figments of Rosemary's increasingly deranged mind.  There is no doubt that as she unravels the mystery, and discovers that this ungodly plot she's suspecting extends beyond her neighbors to her own doctor, she does become more and more unhinged, which seems to be only natural.  I take what I see at face value, because no real hints are given to the contrary.  It's true that what she supposes the coven of witches wants with her baby is false, but that she is up against a satanic conspiracy is all too real, and confirmed by the movie's ending.

As she does discover the truth, Rosemary becomes more and more isolated.  By the end she trusts no one, especially her obstetrician Dr. Saperstein, played chillingly by Ralph Bellamy.  She runs to the one person she feels she can confide in, her old doctor, played by Charles Grodin, and even he betrays her, handing her back into the arms of Saperstein and her husband, who she will soon find out is in league with the coven.

What is chilling about the story is this sense of isolation, that Rosemary has no one to take her part against the forces of evil.  When she comes to the moment of realization that Dr. Saperstein is in on the conspiracy she is in his waiting room browsing the Time Magazine from April 1966 that asked the question on it's cover, in bold red print on a pitch black background, "Is God Dead?"  In the end, the baby is born.  Rosemary is lead to believe he was still born, but soon discovers the truth.  At first repulsed, she is convinced to stay and "be a mother to him."  As the revelers surrounding the bassinet proclaim that the "Year 1" has dawned, Rosemary takes her place by her son, gently rocking the cradle.  She is once again passive, accepting of the situation she has been forced into, and it does seem like God is, if not dead, absent and powerless.

In later years Levin regretted using the demonic motif, feeling that it helped spawn the supernatural thriller craze of the 1970's, and possibly helped spur a fundamentalist Christian backlash.  He even wrote a sequel thirty years later that made it all out to be a dream in order to make up for this perceived sin.  While I think that he's flattering himself to think that he helped turn people to Christian fundamentalism, there is no doubt that Rosemary's Baby inspired The Exorcist and The Omen., as well as other demonic themed horror movies in the following decades.   But there is a clear difference between Levin's work and The Exorcist author William Peter Blatty's.  In The Exorcist (which I did read) there was hope, however slim, that evil could be confronted.  While the cost was high, God was not dead or absent, so there was someone to take the little girl's part in combating and defeating the powers of darkness. In Rosemary's Baby our heroine is alone and outnumbered all the way.

Levin was a nonbeliever who used what little he was able to research on the topic of witchcraft and satanism to craft a convincing, adult, contemporary horror story. But as I wrote earlier, if an author touches on something true, even if he doesn't buy it himself, people will be drawn too it.  It was his mistake to dabble in forces beyond his control or understanding for cynical gain.  The result was exactly the result he didn't intend or want: that more people would become fascinated with the occult, something he claimed no belief in.  But what makes Rosemary's Baby most disturbing is not the sacrilege (which I didn't really write about) or the satanic subject matter itself, but it's lack of hope.  Even if the coven is a metaphor for government, big business, family, or some other oppressive public or social institution or custom, we are left with an image of resignation in the face of evil.

I do not want to leave you on a down note.  Obviously I do not believe that we are alone.  I do believe in the existence of an Enemy who wishes to undo the work of Christ and rob us of our hope.  But as long as we hold close to the Lord His will will be done.  The cost may be high, and the road difficult, but we never have to despair that He is not with us. 

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