Rosemary's Baby

Rosemary's Baby ★★★★★

What I found most terrifying about this film is the way in which Polanski pulls us, alongside Rosemary Woodhouse, into this slow descent of chaos via the mundane everyday interruptions all too familiar to most of us, turning the incessant sounds of water dripping, or neighbors making too much noise, or the phone ringing into a mind-prodding, relentless nightmare, so that by the nearing of the film's chaotic climax you want, more than anything, to help relieve Rosemary of every person and thing surrounding her at any cost.

There is something also vaguely comical about it all as it plays out — there are moments throughout where I found myself chuckling in a self-aware way that both pushed against my discomfort and made me feel more uncomfortable. Yes, there is something terrifying about what kind of creature may or not be growing inside of Rosemary, but my attention was consumed more by my concern for both Rosemary and her baby, so that its quiet conclusion was not one of fright, but one of a sort of unsettling hope.

I was left feeling hopeful for the life of Satan's spawn. If that's not genius filmmaking, I'm not sure what is.

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