Film #8 — 1/3 Cult or Conspiracy Films
Also filed under: A-One
By C. Ramsay
A reverie of dread that’s a much more difficult watch than it first appears. While in no way uninteresting, the first thirty minutes begin slowly, the true degree of escalation only noticeable in retrospect once things have already begun to surge out of control. With the film being highly reliant on visual storytelling, the set design and costumes are well curated, allowing the viewer to quickly assess married couple Rosemary and Guy Woodhouse before getting to know them better through conversation. Since we originally see the apartment that much of the film takes place in when it’s still furnished from the previous tenant—who happens to be one of the cult members—the audience is further able to learn about some of their characterization, as well as some of the cult practices through context clues, without ever meeting the deceased occupant.
Ruth Gordon gives a phenomenal performance as Minnie Castevet, one of the Woodhouse’s neighbours and a key cult member. Her apathy for Rosemary, concealed only through a caricature of temperament that’s barely interested in feigning authenticity, is replicated by Guy in a moment that is such a sudden pivot in behaviour from him that it’s sickening. The tragedy surrounding Rosemary is reinforced through her perpetually heightening fear and lack of ability to do anything about it, though she tries desperately to. At first, she’s trusting and accepts the explanations she’s given, preferring to assume she’s misunderstood something than to advocate for herself at the risk of offending others and realizing she’s wrong in her accusations. Rosemary is not meek, though, and speaks up regularly. The problem is that everyone capable of helping her is either only pretending to or helps with an immediate issue without following up in addressing the larger problem. Any support she does receive stops at being verbal when it needs to also be material.
Though we practically exclusively follow Rosemary, we’re never precisely placed in her shoes. We observe her experiences and empathize with her emotions, but the vantage point we’re given to do so is trying to force us more into the perspectives of the cult members, something that registers as deliberately done to increase the distress of the viewer. Many of the shots are extremely tight, forcing us to feel every bit of movement and remain uncomfortably close to the faces of the characters, almost making a mockery of the emotions they show. The peephole shot mirrors this process, but reminds us that as viewers we’re separated to another realm, which continues via framing through doorways, windows, and floor plans for the rest of the film. Low camera angles are sometimes used to travel from room to room in the apartment, making the viewer feel complicit in a sense of lurking voyeurism. Similarly, while the camera often looks down at Cassavetes, presumably out of disdain, following scenes when he’s lost his temper or done something wrong, it also often looks up at Rosemary when something is about to happen to her, portraying her as prey for a predator in wait. Shots in the hallways of the apartment are typically meant to look as imposing and claustrophobic as possible, followed by moments of respite provided to us by panning to wide rooms with vaulted ceilings. There is no free movement, it’s all transactional, controlled, and slightly distorted for the viewer, making us affected by the actions of the cult in ways that relate but are not exact to Rosemary’s experiences. In this way the film is very sympathetic to Rosemary while simultaneously being cruel to the audience.
As Rosemary fights harder but with fewer and fewer resources for her and her baby’s safety, her frailness becomes disturbingly pronounced. The body horror that pregnancy can cause generally is always looming, but made worse knowing that the baby being carried could very well be something that kills Rosemary from the inside, and worse yet, that nobody will care. Her chances of making her own informed decisions about her pregnancy have long since passed, but were also never allowed to her in the first place, a secret the audience is made aware of and required to keep. Although Rosemary did initially want to have a baby, Guy is the one who put it off to prioritize his career, preventing a pregnancy until it’s his choice and by his means. Leeching off his wife’s excitement over his agreement to start a family, Guy compounds the discussion with one on how he’ll change to better prioritize them as a family, seemingly to put her at ease and preemptively conceal his upcoming behaviour. When he doesn’t change, and in fact gets worse, the baby and the happiness it brings Rosemary are routinely brought up as a distraction. The health of the baby is always placed at a higher priority than Rosemary’s own, with her care for her child leading her to being susceptible to bad advice from trusted people. Ultimately, Rosemary is used as a vessel and then trapped through birth, left to be looked down on with derision by the only people who could technically still help her but never will. This is an unbearably sad and deeply uncomfortable film exploring the sphere of domesticity and the gender roles enforced within it by obligating the audience to helplessly shadow Rosemary through various forms of abuse while silently witnessing the severance of any connection she used to have.
Star rating (/5): ★★★★★
Recommend?: Yes!