A landmark film of the horror genre, Rosemary's Baby (1968) also marked Roman Polanski's U.S directorial debut. The film, a runaway hit on release, was the prototype that inspired the onslaught of big-budget "A" horror films that followed: The Exorcist, The Omen, etc.
In the tradition of Hitchcock, Polanski achieves his effects with little overt violence and gore but much finesse. Like Hitchcock, Polanski masterfully commandeers the emotions of his audience. Drawn into Rosemary's point of view and her growing alarm, the viewer becomes increasingly aware that something is very wrong but, like Rosemary, doesn't grasp exactly what has happened until the final scenes.
This suspense is propelled by a deliberate ambiguity that implies Rosemary's fright may have a rational explanation (women do have difficult pregnancies), that her fears may be paranoia-based (though related to an infamous Satanist, her neighbors could just be a pair of elderly oddballs). On the other hand, the storyline and action are such that the viewer has difficulty simply writing off Rosemary's anguish to imagination and coincidence. Equally ambiguous throughout much of the film are the majority of the characters. While Rosemary remains constant as the naive young wife, those around her are more enigmatic - from her ambitious actor husband and her intrusive neighbors to her wise and kindly old doctor. Cleverly, several of the most villainous characters are also the most comically eccentric.
The subtle intermingling of suspense with irony and humor is one of the film's distinctive qualities. A few unforgettable scenes: Rosemary (Mia Farrow) and her husband Guy (John Cassavetes) are having dinner with her friend Hutch (Maurice Evans) who describes the Bramford building's ghoulish history (including a pair of sisters who devoured children) as he carves lamb at the dinner table...a graphic and shocking suicide scene in front of the Bramford simultaneously introduces the Castevets: Minnie (Ruth Gordon), dressed and made up in the manner of an over-the-top Christmas tree, and Roman (Sidney Blackmer), clad as though vaudeville was still alive and well...and finally, when Rosemary sees her baby for the first time she, uncomprehending, shrieks, "What have you done to its eyes?" Roman Castevet adroitly responds, "He has his father's eyes"...
Another of the film's delights is its painstaking recreation of the time in which it was set, late 1965 to mid-1966. Costume designer Anthea Sylbert precisely captured that timeframe's contemporary look with Rosemary's short shift dresses (some with peter pan collars), a long and luxurious plaid skirt, red chiffon lounging pajamas. Rosemary has her blunt-cut pageboy snipped short by Vidal Sassoon, she relaxes at home reading Sammy Davis, Jr.'s book Yes, I Can, the Pope's visit to New York is glimpsed on TV, and Time Magazine's famous "Is God Dead?" cover is shown on a waiting room table.
The hand-picked supporting cast includes especially solid performances by Patsy Kelly and Ralph Bellamy. Uncredited but in an acknowledged key role is The Dakota, a famed gothic confection at 72nd and Central Park West. The Dakota starred as the Bramford, and exteriors were shot there. Because filming was not allowed inside, its interiors were recreated at Paramount. Significantly, the film begins and ends with aerial views of the building.
Roman Polanski deftly combined the trademark elements of his style (atmospheric location, psychological distress, irony, dark humor, an endangered and isolated protagonist), his penchant for meticulous craftsmanship and the high gloss afforded by Hollywood to create a masterpiece that has developed a legend all its own over the years...
Many of the characters in Roman Polanski's films are trapped in some way, unable to escape. Catherine Deneuve in Repulsion (1965), on a psychological level, is trapped within herself, avoiding most human contact (particularly male). She even seems a prisoner in her own apartment. Likewise, Polanski in The Tenant (1976) rarely leaves his apartment, obsessed with the previous tenant, who committed suicide. Other Polanski films, such as Death and the Maiden (1994) and The Ninth Gate (1999), tell stories of characters who are captives of their desires. It's fitting that the director often exploited the wide-angle lens (which makes space seem smaller by pushing objects together) and had his camera closely follow the subjects. It's as if the characters are incapable even of eluding the audience.
In spite of its humorous approach, Polanski's 1967 movie, The Fearless Vampire Killers, or: Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are in My Neck (originally titled and released in other countries as Dance of the Vampires), features characters who are ostensibly confined. The film begins with Professor Abronsius (Jack MacGowran) and his assistant, Alfred (Polanski), traveling through the snow by horse and sleigh. A pack of wild dogs starts chasing the sleigh (Alfred attempts to fight them off with an umbrella), but fortunately, the dogs retreat when the sun begins to rise. The sleigh is traveling on the only path available for transportation. So the men have but one choice for a destination: the direction in which they are already headed. They cannot turn around, lest they be torn to pieces by wild dogs, much like the beasts did with Alfred's feeble weapon of choice.
Once they reach an inn, the professor is near death from the bitter cold. The innkeeper and guests tend to Abronsius and Alfred, and they are given a room. It is soon abundant that the two men have a goal in mind. They are hunting vampires, and the professor is excited to see garlic hanging from the ceilings. But these "vampire killers" cannot even handle the people at the inn. The innkeeper, Shagal, tiptoes to a maidservant's quarters late at night. When his wife goes looking for him, she inadvertently whacks the professor on the head, knocking him out cold. Shagal claims that the men's room is best due to its proximity to the bathroom, but this is immaterial when his daughter, Sarah (Sharon Tate), monopolizes the washtub. Later, Sarah is taken by vampire Count von Krolock. Shagal heroically rushes out to save his daughter and is found dead the subsequent morning. His wife refuses to drive a wooden stake through Shagal's heart, so Abronsius and Alfred wait until night to do it themselves. However, by the time they get to Shagal's corpse, following a practice run with pillows, the former innkeeper has awakened and runs out the door.
Polanski creates a claustrophobic atmosphere at the inn. The professor and Alfred must succumb to everyone else's behavior. When they finally take the initiative and travel to the Count's nearby castle, they are still burdened by obstacles. A hunchback watches over the vampires in repose, and when they manage to reach the vampires' coffins, Alfred's trepidation (he's anything but "fearless") prevents any action resulting in vampire death. These two men are so absorbed with themselves -- the professor and his infatuation with vampires, Alfred with his incompetence and wandering eyes for the ladies -- that they often do not understand one another. At the castle, Alfred is upset, believing that Sarah is dead. Unable to discern Alfred's mutterings, Abronsius questions him: "Sarah's dead?" Alfred mistakes it for confirmation, gasping and exclaiming softly, "Oh my God!" Alfred's perpetual confusion carries over to others as well. At the inn, Sarah stops by his room, complaining about her life. Alfred is so mesmerized by the beautiful woman that when she asks, "Do you mind if I have a quick one?" he stumbles through a response, "I don't mind at all!" She, of course, is simply asking to use the tub in the adjacent room.
The professor and Alfred are on the prowl for bloodsuckers, but they truly are prisoners, unable to accomplish basic tasks and always at the mercy of others, human or otherwise. This makes for many an amusing sequence, as Polanski includes jabs at the vampire legend, with a Jewish vampire (who chuckles when a potential victim tries to protect herself with a cross) and a flamboyantly gay vampire whose got his sights set on poor Alfred. MacGowran is remarkable as the professor, and Polanski proves equally adept in front of the camera, with a charming performance as the bumbling assistant. Tate is quite appealing as Sarah, and her scenes with Polanski are bittersweet.
In the U.S., Polanski's movie was given the ridiculously long title and snipped of almost 20 minutes. Additionally, a silly and ultimately superfluous cartoon was added before the opening credits, all in an attempt to make the film a slapstick comedy. Most copies available today retain the Americanized title but are thankfully uncut. The Fearless Vampire Killers is undeniably funny, but it is also exhilarating and wonderfully made, an exemplary model for the cinema of Roman Polanski.
A landmark film of the horror genre, Rosemary's Baby (1968) also marked Roman Polanski's U.S directorial debut. The film, a runaway hit on release, was the prototype that inspired the onslaught of big-budget "A" horror films that followed: The Exorcist, The Omen, etc.
The subtle intermingling of suspense with irony and humor is one of the film's distinctive qualities. A few unforgettable scenes: Rosemary (Mia Farrow) and her husband Guy (John Cassavetes) are having dinner with her friend Hutch (Maurice Evans) who describes the Bramford building's ghoulish history (including a pair of sisters who devoured children) as he carves lamb at the dinner table...a graphic and shocking suicide scene in front of the Bramford simultaneously introduces the Castevets: Minnie (Ruth Gordon), dressed and made up in the manner of an over-the-top Christmas tree, and Roman (Sidney Blackmer), clad as though vaudeville was still alive and well...and finally, when Rosemary sees her baby for the first time she, uncomprehending, shrieks, "What have you done to its eyes?" Roman Castevet adroitly responds, "He has his father's eyes"...
