A Cinema Classic Disguised as a Horror Film

Rating: 10/10 (27 October 2018)

I watched Rosemary's Baby again last night, and if you were unware that Roman Polanski was, at one time, one of cinema's greatest auteurs, please watch this movie post-haste to see true genius at work. Yes, it is better than The Shining. Yes, Polanski was better than Kubrick. And Exhibit A is Rosemary's B.
Not enough fantastic things can be said about this work of cinematic art, which, from its opening sequence of rooftop credits, pans its way through your paranoid entrails, digging up dread for the true creepiness lying beneath -- the rooftops, your neighbor's smile, your husband's kiss and your own skin.
Yes, it's perfect casting, with John Cassavetes' acting matching the brilliance of his directing, in his most sympathetically detestable screen performance, and Mia Farrow reaching a superbly nuanced balance of heartfelt fight and fear that, in retrospect, confounds, considering her Woody work, which was mostly limp and never came close to matching what she touches on here, at only 23. Was it fear of letting down Sinatra (who got her the part) that drove Mia to such unsurpassed excellence? Or was it Mr. Polanski? (Hint: See answer B).
Because everyone is excellent -- from Ruth Gordon's much worse than nebby NYC neighbor (which won her the Oscar), to Maurice Evans' fatherly hero gone hospital. From Charles Grodin's warm-hearted Dr. Hill gone-to-hell betrayal, to Tony Curtis' absorbing (& uncredited) telephone voice-over work as the actor blinded by witchcraft. This is brilliant ensemble mojo that completely belies the film's 1968 made-on stamp.
But let's get to the cancerous red meat here, this film eats at you because Polanski is always in charge. He's working closely with cinematographer William A. Fraker (who shot the fantastic San Francisco car chase sequences from Steve McQueen's Bullitt that same year), so that every unspoken word is captured by extreme facial close-up, and every chaotic stumble, by handheld cam in real time (which was cutting edge in '68), and the dream sequence montages are legendary, with editing of the highest order.
And oh my, of course, I could never forget to mention that hauntingly ideal "la-la-la" theme and an overall score that gets you in the mood to look away, just when you know you can't. The cumulative filmmaking extras here never get in the way, while always involving the viewer in a believable, empathetic tale of vulnerability exploited.
Unlike the horror of today, Rosemary's Baby is frightening while still being fully humane, treating characters with the respect humans deserve, even the despicable ones. That's partly why it consistently scores Top 10 rankings in the "best of" horror film lists regurgitated this time of year.
But I'm here to tell you that Roman Polanski's Rosemary's Baby has a well-earned stake in the claim for "best of" and "top ten", no matter the genre or holiday. This is art and entertainment, in one. And it's a flick that's still going to fly long after you, I and Rosemary's baby's baby's baby are dead and gone.