#630: POLANSKI, Roman: Rosemary's Baby (1968)

POLANSKI, Roman (United States)

Rosemary's Baby [1968]

Spine #630
Blu-ray

Horrifying and darkly comic, Rosemary's Baby was Roman Polanski's Hollywood debut. This wildly entertaining nightmare, faithfully adapted from Ira Levin's best seller, stars a revelatory Mia Farrow as a young mother-to-be who grows increasingly suspicious that her overfriendly elderly neighbors (played by Sidney Blackmer and an Oscar-winning Ruth Gordon) and self-involved husband (John Cassavetes) are hatching a satanic plot against her and her baby. In the decades of occult cinema that Polanski's ungodly masterpiece has spawned, it has never been outdone for sheer psychological terror.

136 minutes
Color

Monaural

1:85:1 aspect ratio

Criterion Release 2012

Director/Writers

From the novel by Ira Levin.

Roman Polanski was 35 when he wrote and directed Rosemary's Baby.

Other Polanski films in the Collection:

#215: Knife In The Water (1962)
#483: Repulsion (1965)
#577: Cul-De-Sac (1966)
#726: Macbeth (1971)
#697: Tess (1979)

The Film

With the mid-60s studio system on life support, it seems ironic that two films in production at that time, both end up being classics and included in this Collection. William Castle was a producer/director of (pretty good) “B” movies. (13 Frightened Girls [1963] is an example of how berserk he was.) He also invented all those tricks they’d fob off on unsuspecting theatre-goers: shaking seats, live props appearing in the middle of a film, yellow lines and footprints designed to make you prove that “you’re not a coward!” [ooh, I’m scared] … but this stuff sold tickets, too.

Castle got his hand on two properties around this time. One — a script about competitive alpine skiing, and a horror story about the Devil … he probably wanted to direct the horror script himself (13 Frightened Studio Suits) …

So he brought it all to Paramount who said, “Thanks, Mr. Castle, we’ll pay you for this property, but don’t even think about directing.”

Robert Evans (1930-2019) was obviously a great producer. He literally turned Paramount around — from the mid 60’s onwards — single-handedly. Crucial to that turnaround was when he bought the galleys to both of Castle’s properties.

Knowing how Polanski loved to ski, Evans sent the ski script to him, along with the “horror” script — thinking he’d pick the ski story (… or maybe he knew Polanski would like the horror story better, and the ski story was just a sniff test!) Instead, Polanski stayed up all night reading Rosemary and made up his mind to come to Hollywood and do it.

Give Evans (the degenerate) credit for having the sense to hire a newcomer like Polanski — although anyone watching his three prior films (all part of the Collection [see above]), can see why Evans would take the chance. The genius of the direction, powered by a simplistic approach to the camera, except when the image screamed out for something more outrageous — and Polanski would supply it. Plus he had a sense of humor. He invented what was needed.

Casting was just as important as everything else, so far — perhaps even more so. Plucking 23-year-old Mia Farrow — 263 episodes of being Allison Mackenzie on Peyton Place as Allison Mackenzie — into this role of Rosemary Woodhouse also showed amazing prescience. Robert Redford was probably assured of the part in either script, one would assume.

Instead of the surefire “hit,” Redford took the role of the Chappellet in Downhill Racer (1969), the young, ambitious, competitive star of a ski team, with Gene Hackman for a coach. See Spine #494.

That left Jack Nicholson as a consideration — but Polanski admired John Cassevetes, a fellow director, famous for improvisation. They famously feuded, “Shut up, John!” Roman apparently screamed at some point … but whatever difficulties the two men had personally, Cassevetes’s performance as Gus is right on point.

Ruth Gordon steals the picture — and rightfully so, because Levin/Polanski (Roman hardly changed a word of the novel) had written a New York character everyone can identify with — the kooky lady who always has her hair in curlers and is talking out of the side of her mouth most of the time. She won an Oscar for this jaw-dropping performance.

Sidney Blackmer is appropriately creepy as Roman Castevet. (are you kidding me?!) Scrabble plays its usual role when an anagram must be found …

Maurice Evans — an intelligent, Shakespearean English actor — will most likely forever known for being  Dr. Zaius in the first two (original) Planet of the Apes films (hope his tombstone reads: “I was an animal!”) …

Ralph Bellamy, Elisha Cook Jr., and Charles Grodin (in his film debut) are all excellent in minor roles.

**

I imagine Polanski was pretty happy with himself. He had done himself well with Rosemary, and now he wanted to do … Shakespeare. The studios blew their noses, and passed. Hugh Hefner came to the rescue and Polanski made another very fine picture — in which no one, including the film-going public, seemed the least bit interested.

After Macbeth (Spine #726), he made What? (1973) [who? when? where?], in which Polanski had a 50% stake. Evans instead made a Faustian deal with Roman … he’d pay him whatever the 50% of What? turned out to be as his salary for directing Chinatown (1974). [yeah, 50% of what? What was his salary? Huh?]

Film Rating (0-60):

57

The Extras

The Booklet

30-page booklet featuring an essay by critic Ed Park; Levin’s afterword to the 2003 New American Library edition of his novel; and Levin’s rare, unpublished character sketches of the Woodhouses and floor plan of their apartment, created in preparation for the novel.

Park informs us that Hitchcock passed on the option. Wonder if he regretted it?

Levin writes:

“When I checked back through the newspapers for the events of the optimal date for the baby’s conception — so he would arrive exactly half the year round from Christmas — I found, on October 4, 1965, Pope Paul’s visit to New York City and the Mass he celebrated at Yankee Stadium that night. I took it as a sign — though I don’t, of course, believe in signs — and kept writing.”

He doesn’t mention if had planned the June birth to be 6/66.

Commentary

None

Documentary 1

Featuring interviews with Polanski, actress Farrow, and producer Robert Evans.

All fascinating. Evans tells the story of how he got the one-sheet (poster) for the movie. He went to see the president of Ernst & Young (EY, today) … who designed this poster in sickly green; a baby carriage on top of a hill; with the words “Pray for Rosemary’s Baby.”

Ad men earned their fees in those days.

Farrow is terrific; she freely admits it was her role of a lifetime. She seemed to have a mental connection with Polanski — who says something very interesting in his interview: that a dream sequence ought not to be covered with sound design or spooky music. He films them plainly with no sound or music, and uses appropriate camerawork to capture the mood.

Audio interview

With author Levin from a 1997 broadcast of Leonard Lopate’s public radio program New York and Company about his 1967 novel, its sequel, and the film.

Really, Levin was on the show to promote his sequel, “Son of Rosemary,” which seems to play up on the Bramford-Dakota motif, even mentioning that a Beatle was getting set to live there. One can just see the product placement now …

… even so, he’s an interesting guy to listen to, obviously nobody’s fool. He’s been burned by a few adaptations (The Stepford Wives, Sliver), but he cashed the checks.

Documentary 2

Komeda, Komeda, a feature-length documentary on the life and work of jazz musician and composer Krzysztof Komeda (Christopher Komeda, born Krzysztof Trzciński 1931), died in an alcohol-fueled accident — in which a skull and a hard rock were involved — in 1969, just short of his 38th birthday.

The doc is excellent …

… the brilliant young man who was too brilliant to be a mere musician … his mother noodged him to become a doctor; he became a doctor. But 50’s Poland was about to break out with unusual (for a Communist country) freedom for certain aspects of society — like contemporary art of all kinds.

When jazz went on trial, the judges deemed it decadent Westernism until someone pointed out that jazz was the music of “enslaved” Africans (therefore, revolutionary) … it passed.

Komeda gave up medicine, and worked with a vibraphonist, and his groups seemed to relish taking a Bach prelude and turning it into a jazz piece.

He began scoring films in the late 50s, worked with Polanski on a short or two, and the two of them went on to do Knife In The Water (1962) [Spine #215]). The rest is history, ending tragically …

**

They say that film music is really terrific when you walk out of the film and can’t remember a note. This is one of those absolute truisms that escapes a lot of the movie-going public.

Not only should you not remember the music — but you should be completely unaware of its existence as an existential mechanism to make the visual image stronger, to manipulate the image, perhaps make it scarier, make it more tender …

Polanski and Komeda are the perfect match for this score, and again give Evans (weird dude) some credit for allowing a first-time Hollywood director, saddled with this multi-million dollar expectation, to fly in his old buddy from Poland. Perhaps Evans also saw the potential that is evident in the earlier films they did together.

In any case, this film is a masterclass in how to use music in a film — in this genre, in particular. Let’s take a look. After some percussive piano attacks, a soft C minor four-bar vamp in 3/4 precedes

This simple “lullaby” is sung wordlessly by Mia — so naturally, with zero affectation — over the credits, as Polanski’s camera pans the East Side from south to north; moves west over Central Park, and alights on The Dakota just in time for Polanski’s credit. A tune of such sadness and foreboding — yet Komeda will reuse and transform this simple lullaby into nearly every cue in the score!

The Dakota

Compared to many and most Hollywood productions, this one’s score is frequently absent from scenes which would ordinarily be “helped along” by the “right” music cue.

Here, Polanski and Komeda plan the aural part of the film as an organic component of the final product — and as said above, something to be felt rather than noticed.

So — as the credits end and the music begins to fade, Polanski cuts from the high shot of the building to a new exterior — we see Mr. Nicklas (a deliciously bizarre Cook Jr.), Rosemary and Gus in a long shot, as the camera moves in, panning, and finally captures the trio as the dialogue begins:

MR. NICKLAS

Are you a doctor?

GUS

Yeah, yeah …

ROSEMARY

He’s an actor …

NICKLAS

Oh, an actor … we’re very popular with actors. Have I seen you in anything?

GUS (being weird)

Well, let’s see — I did Hamlet a while back. Didn’t I, Liz? … and then we did The Sandpiper, and then …

ROSEMARY

… he’s joking. He was in Luther and Nobody Loves an Albatross … and a lot of television plays and commercials …

NICKLAS

… that’s where the money is, isn’t it? — commercials?

GUS

… and the artistic thrills, too.

Lines like that are satiric adventures — lying there for all to see, but yet hidden. Great writing, great directing and — notice — great use of no music!

0:11:52. The Lullaby theme at a faster pace, still in 3/4; piano/celesta; ends at 0:12:50, a cue of about a minute.

The next cue is over half-an-hour later!

When she hears the chanting from the other apartment, Polanski’s camera simply pans upwards to a shadow on the wall. The music starts:

0:44:38. Two repeating chords, the Fresco ceiling, the music gets louder and then softer; he adds a new dizzying descending chormatic riff as Rosemary cries out:

“This is not a dream! This is really happening!”

She is offered the ring of the Pope — the same ball filled with fungus. The music stops.

0:52:53. Soft celesta and flutes (all based on the lullaby melody) while she’s on the phone w/dr. Hill, finding out she’s pregnant. Cue is just over a minute.

1:00:37. Rosemary gets up from the Scrabble game; glissandi strings, good cue to bring up the fear factor. Music ends less than a minute later.

1:01:22. Cutting the raw steak, staccato strings with echo. 25-second cut!

1:03:39. Rosemary notices that Roman has pierced ears; tremolo violins

1:10:25. Xmas scene at Rock Center; flute jazz always in 3/4 and based on the lullaby; cue lasts just over a minute.

1:12:19. After the phone call with Grace Cardiff (Hanna Landy); creepy vocals; 30-second cue.

1:14:22. New Years; same variation on the original 3/4; xylophone accents; Ro eats the raw liver; echoing 16th-notes ...

1:23:11. Lullaby theme in 3/4 ... "it's moving!" -- the cue stops at 1:24:22.

1:30:06 After trying to anagram All of Them Witches she grabs the book (flute) and he adds a sharp sound from the chorus ...

1:36:11. The same soft 3/4 cue, while Ro searches for the book; vibraphone builds up to the traffic scene ("don't worry, no one will hit a pregnant woman," said Polanski, as he followed her across the street.) No way the insurance company would allow that today!

1:37:40. We never meet Donald Baumgart, the man who goes blind so Guy can get the part. But we hear is voice on the telephone. The voice belonged to Tony Curtis, Polanski's ploy to get Farrow confused. That one worked, too.

1:39:23. Now the cues pile up on top of one another -- string glissandi and repeated 16ths on the piano ...

1:41:35. Soft drums as they discuss the smell of the goodluck charm ...

1:42:13. Ratchets up the tension with flute trills ...

1:46:19. Spooky synth music for William Kastle's cameo outside the phone booth ...

1:51:52. Quiet strings while she relaxes, after thinking that Dr. Hill was sympathetic to her story.

Notice where there is no music! As Dr. Sapirstein and Guy follow Dr. Hill into the room, there is so much tension ... yet Polanski/Komeda leave it all blank!

1:53:49. Creepy synth music and distorted lullaby melody with blaring trumpet as she escapes in the elevator -- temporarily. The music gets louder and crazier once she seems safe in her apartment, underscoring the danger ...

1:57:08. After she hits Guy with the phone, screaming strings and trumpet; the music subsides as she says, "Forgive me!"

2:05:28. Soft strings, steady bass (still always in 3/4), as she empties the towel closet. Piano echo and rolling, echoing winds and strings. This cue lasts a full two minutes!

2:07:47. Another cue starts; tremolo and sul pont in an arco bass ...

"Shut up, you’re in Dubrovnik -- I don’t hear you."

2:10:09. As she looks at the baby, Farrow's eyes widen and a new cue (in 4/4, actually) begins (trumpet) and lasts less than two minutes.

2:15:45. Marimba then lullaby theme with guitar accompaniment, violins on top ending with the same piano attacks from the beginning of this magnifcent, subtle score!

Extras Rating (0-40):

36

57 + 36 =

93

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