By which I mean that Polanskis film sticks so closely to Levins masterpiece (one of the leanest, most coldly efficient horror novels even written) that it might appear redundant. This doesnt really matter unless youve read the book of course. It certainly didnt bother me when I first saw the film as a young college student (and discovered to my eternal delight that I share the same birthday as the titular tyke). But when I finally got around to picking up the book, I was amazed at how not only the plot about a young Upper West Side housewife who finds herself victimized by everyone in her apartment building, and, just maybe, the Prince of Darkness himself was faithfully preserved, but that Polanski had kept most of the dialogue (usually the first thing to go when a screenwriter is trying to establish a films voice). Even the colors of the costumes are faithful to Levins descriptions of clothing. Why bother with the movie? I thought. Its all there in print!
As I grew older, however, I came to appreciate Polanskis achievement on its own terms. And its now one of the first films I recommend to horror neophytes. For as polished as Levins book might be, the films foreboding sense of place, its careful pacing, and its remarkable performances (highlighted by Ruth Gordon in her Oscar-winning role as nosy neighbor from hell Minnie Castevet) can be largely credited to Polanski. Schlockmeister William Castle who brought the novel to Paramount studio chief Robert Evans was keen to direct the film himself, and its easy to see how the project could have fallen apart in his hands (or, even worse, in those of a director with no sense of humor). Fortunately, Evans pulled for Polanski, and Castle stepped into the role of producer. New to America and still in his early thirties, Polanski had a keen understanding of human behavior and immediately saw in Levins tale a way to generate both the thrills and laughs of earlier features like Cul-de-sac and Repulsion. And make no mistake, like so many of the truly great horror films, from Bride of Frankenstein to Dawn of the Dead, Rosemarys Baby is as keen to amuse as it is to terrify. The tightrope act required to pull this off is no small feat, particularly in a movie that cant fall back on the blood and belly laughs of a splatter comedy. But the end result is one of a handful of films that bring true artistic legitimacy to our favorite genre.
Criterions Blu-ray edition of Rosemarys Baby, which arrives just in time for Halloween 2012 (and, depending on who you listen to, the apocalypse itself), looks as good as any Ive seen from the company. As most cineastes know, there are two kinds of proper film restoration: the kind that reconstructs a film frame by frame, removing scratches, debris and whatnot, and the kind that takes a first-rate 35 millimeter print and transfers it as accurately as possible to the digital medium. Like many other Criterion titles, Rosemarys Baby takes the latter approach, and the result is that it looks significantly better than it ever has on home video. Colors previously muted now fully contribute to the specific mood of a scene, even as the proper amount of grain is maintained so that the image looks like film and not a plasticized data file. The sound is equally terrific, nary a pop or hiss can be heard. All of Levins priceless dialogue is showcased to marvelous effect, as is the late composer (and frequent Polanski collaborator) Krzysztof Komedas unnerving score.
Criterion doesnt skimp on the extras either. Theres a forty-five minute HD featurette that features brand-new interviews with Farrow, Evans, and Polanski, in which the three speak candidly on just about everything: from Farrows divorce with Frank Sinatra, which briefly interrupted filming, to the frustration legendary actor-director John Cassavetees (who plays Rosemarys husband Guy) felt with Polanskis approach to filmmaking, to Evans no-holds-barred attitude towards marketing an unmarketable movie. Also worthwhile is a feature-length documentary on composer Komeda, then one of the leading jazz musicians in Poland, whose eclectic style brought bold new soundscapes to cinema. A twenty-minute radio interview with the late Ira Levin from 1997 when the author was promoting his sequel, Son of Rosemary provides additional insight. (Im still dumbfounded that when a film sequel was in discussion Levin wanted Brad Pitt to play Rosemarys son at thirty-three years old.) Another of Criterions meaty booklets this one containing an essay by critic Ed Park along with Levins afterword for the New American Library edition of the novel rounds out the package nicely.
There have been quite a few classic horror titles released to Blu-ray this season from Re-Animator to Black Sunday but, with the possible exception of the Bride of Frankenstein disc in the Universal Monsters set, Rosemarys Baby might be the finest Ive seen so far this year.
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