The point of this film is not to scare you. Nor is it to make you afraid of the dark. Rosemary’s Baby has a much deeper influence than that. It makes you weary of ordinary humans. It fills you up with paranoia through Rosemary’s eyes. And watching her navigate the deep waters and to know, by instinct, that there’s no escape, brings up feelings of frustration and anticipation.
I must admit; I had some bizarre expectations for this film. But that’s the thing about expectations - they’re hardly ever met. Roman Polanski bought this film more down-to-earth. He made the dialogue more immersive, affective, and realistic. The film sets itself in stone and turns from black to gray to all kinds of grim colors. Each facade is equally suggestive and gratifying.
The film gives you so much to look forward to. The way the story is told envelopes its theme of it. It extracts from a simple life a perplexing situation. The cinematography, dialogue, and performances complement each other. For me, it’s got to be Rosemary and Mrs. Castevet who intensify and bring this film to life. While their husbands make the story seem more believable in a traditional sense.
Only a film made with such impassioned imaginations can shoulder terror down to its microscopic details. It’s not the jump scares that frighten you. It’s the hopelessness of Rosemary’s Baby; a world in which trust, unlike the tail of a lizard, do not grow back. To feel this sentiment manifest is a skill brilliantly communicated by Roman Polanski.