Before acclaimed director Roman Polanski was pleading guilty to the statutory rape of a 13-year-old girl and subsequently fleeing the country to avoid serving a jail sentence, he was making films such as Rosemary’s Baby.
It stars Mia Farrow as Rosemary, a young woman married to an actor. Together, they move to an apartment in NYC. Rosemary befriends a tenant in the laundry room who has a good luck charm necklace that has some root in it that I can only assume smells like a combination of dirty feet and ass.
Later on, that woman jumps to her death. Was it the smell? We don’t know. In the laundry room, though, she spoke highly of the older couple that she was staying with. Rosemary tells the older couple that she spoke nicely about them. Then the older couple took this opportunity to make some new friends.
Then… nothing’s happening… nothing’s happening… oh, here, um the neighbor lady brings Rosemary some chocolate mousse. Hubby is scarfing it down like it’s the most delicious thing he’s had, but ol’ Rosemary says it tastes funny after a couple of bites and then puts it all in a napkin to throw away.
Then she gets dizzy and has this trippy dream where some demon creature is having his way with her while hubby, older neighbors and other tenants are watching. She wakes up with some scratches where hubby says, “Oh yeah, while you were passed out, I had my way with you, but we’re married so don’t look at it all rapey-like, OK? Don’t make this weird!” Paraphrasing, of course.
So now she’s all preggers, and she gets a recommendation for this one doctor, but neighbor lady is all like, “No, girl, you need to see this doctor friend of mine who’ll forego shit like vitamins in exchange for some juice cocktail with mysterious ingredients.” And Rosemary is like, “I dunno about that, but OK.” And later on, the look on her face says, “This shit tastes nasty.” Anyway, now she craves raw meat.
A friend does some research on her weird, older neighbors but goes into a coma before he can tell her what he found. He leaves a book on witchcraft with some notes. Rosemary is given the book and notes and finds out that ol’ neighbor dude’s father was a Satanist. Oh yeah, and her husband got an acting gig because the original actor mysteriously went blind all of a sudden. Odd indeed.
So now she thinks that the neighbors are in a cult and that hubby’s involved and the doctor’s involved, and she’s scared for her and her baby – rightfully so. She goes to the other doctor, who thinks she’s delusional, so he calls the other doctor and the actor-hubby. They come get her and take her home. She distracts them by emptying all the contents of her purse – and like the purses of many women, there’s a ton of shit in there. Tons. You’ve seen it – checkbook, makeup, tissues, pens, DVD remote, expired coupons, keys, a parking validation ticket from two years ago and a picture of shoes.
So while hubby and the doc are picking the stuff up off the floor, she hightails it – as best a pregnant woman can – to the elevator and goes to the apartment and locks the door. The men somehow get inside as she’s going into labor. She passes out, only to wake up and have her husband tell her that she lost the baby. She randomly hears crying nearby, so she’s thinking that he’s a liar and the baby’s alive.
She goes to investigate and finds this secret door through a closet and the neighbors and a bunch of other people are in there having drinks and being… well, fancy. It’s fancy dinner-party-and-drinks time. Oh, and there’s a crib that’s black and surrounded by black fabric. And a baby in the crib. She walks over to it, looks down and says, “What have you done to its eyes?!” The folks are like, “He has his father’s eyes!” Rosemary is like “nope!” And the guy at the party says the baby’s father is the devil and they all start chanting “Hail Satan!” She spits in actor-hubby’s face, but later on goes to the crib because creepy-Hail-Satan dude was like, “you should be a mother to it.”
In the words of Maury Povich, “Actor-hubby, you are NOT the father!”