So, I had my hair cut pixie (again) today! And while it's not the same shade of blonde as Mia's is, I wanted to see the iconic Mia Farrow sporting a pixie among all the poofy women's haircuts of the 1960s. That's right, Mia, girl, you rebel against the status quo. Anyway--

wife: Have you seen my book?
husband: I tossed it in the garbage.

To sum up the depiction of subjugation in the film in one exchange, it would be this.

I loved Mia Farrow's character in this, because she was the clever one. She noticed something was off about the Castevet's apartment. She discarded the tannis root charm. She pretended to eat the chocolate mousse. Etcera, etcera.

It was nice to see a woman with so much agency as she was allowed in 1960s Hollywood.

"Shut up, you're in Dubrovnik."
Ouch, what a burn.

That's why the ending hit me so hard. Because they won her over with her maternal instinct, with the idea that she had always wanted this baby even if it was the Antichrist. I was rooting for Rosemary to grab the knife out of nowhere and kill her demonic baby, but it didn't happen. Imagine what a total subversion that would have been. Mother killing own child.

Instead, she just resigns to her fate, giving a little bit of a smile, and isn't that just telling of what women's roles and the idea of women's liberation was (or is) like? Yell a bit, make a bit of commotion, but sit the fuck down at the end of the day once you've collected your shit back together, and take all the subjugation, because hell, you'll even learn to enjoy it this time around after you've tired yourself out trying to liberate yourself and learning to realise nothing ever the fuck really changes.

A near perfect gaslighting film.