'Rosemary's Baby' Turns 40 this Week at the Film Forum

For those of us concerned about the future of the movie business during these bleak economic times, let Rosemary's Baby be a beacon of hope. This masterpiece was made during a depression for a measly estimated $2.3 million, affirming that tough times can produce great things. 

Rosemary's Baby is the story of newlyweds Guy and Rosemary Woodhouse, who move into a rambling, old apartment in Manhattan, next door to a quirky and meddlesome elderly couple, Minnie and Roman Castevet.  Rosemary quickly grows suspicious of their peculiar neighbors while Guy, on the contrary, becomes remarkably close to them.  One night, Guy comes home elated, exclaiming that he has been cast in a play because the lead was suddenly struck blind. When Rosemary's reaction isn't quite what he had hoped, what with her having a heart and all, he tells her he is ready to have a baby - one of the two most pathetic ways to make a woman smile next to giving her a diamond.  Rosemary is naturally thrilled, until they are interrupted by Minnie and Roman bringing over dessert to celebrate Guy's new gig. Rosemary complains of a chalky after-taste to her custard and throws it away. Soon thereafter, she grows dizzy and slips out of consciousness.  She dreams that she is raped by a scaly, demonic presence during a ritualistic ceremony.  In the morning, Rosemary finds herself wounded and pregnant and rightly uncomfortable with her husband's "Whoops!  I guess I was a little rough when I was having sex with you while you were passed out last night" excuse.  As her unborn child grows, Rosemary discovers she is in the midst of a satanic conspiracy and suspects the health and safety of her baby are at risk. 

Paramount producer Bob Evans did not have a lot to work with when he set out to get this little adaptation made.  The book of the same title by Ira Levin, though ultimately a best seller, was bought as a galley well before Random House's publication date at the behest of William Castle, prolific low-budget horror filmmaker.  Evans recognized the project's potential for more than another of the B-horror elk and agreed to let Castle produce the film, intending to hire a different director.  A great admirer of Roman Polanski's moody European films, Evans sent him a galley.  Polanski devoured the book in one night and was so inspired, he implored Evans to let him write the script as well as direct.  Evans took a chance and agreed. 

But Evans worried that with a thusfar unknown book, a foreign director and no recognizable actors, the film would be destined for failure.  As a result, he approached Mia Farrow with the script.  Though she was no box-office darling, her shocking marriage to Frank Sinatra had made her a household name.  Farrow loved the project but politely declined Evans' offer because she promised her new husband that after they were married she would put her career on hold. Evans wasn't about to accept that lame, not to mention sexist excuse and, sure enough, after some major buttering up, even going so far as dropping an O-bomb ("This will be your Oscar-winning role ..."), Farrow defied Sinatra and signed on anyway.  In the middle of shooting, Sinatra sent a messenger to serve her with divorce papers. I have to say, I think it was worth it. 

The Film Forum revives Rosemary's Baby on the 40th anniversary of its release and coincidentally at the onset of another major economic depression perhaps to remind us of what is possible despite dismally crappy odds: an iconic film complete with Polanski's haunting filmmaking, an Academy-Award-winning performance by Ruth Gordon and gorgeous shots of New York's famed Dakota building.