#because it's so fucking good

[cat-mentality]

I'm literally going insane about the fact that Team Red got doomed by the narrative™️ and managed to win (for now) exactly because of that fact while Team Green and Team Blue doomed themselves for their own actions and decisions, like ughhhhhh

[jacquelinemerritt]

Horror Media Review: Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

Originally posted September 2nd, 2016

The corruption of domestic American life.

This review is part of a biweekly series of pieces on classic horror films. See them all here!

Rosemary’s Baby, Roman Polanski1 and Mia Farrow’s breakout film is a masterpiece of tense and subtle storytelling. Today, watching the film feels like going back to the source of inspiration for the “Satanic Panic,” and indeed, in 1968, when the film was released, four other films about Satanists and black magic were released, arguably helping to plant the cultural seed for the very real moral panic over Satanic Ritual Abuse in the 1980s.

Due to its status as a cultural landmark, the basics of the plot are well-known: Rosemary (Mia Farrow) and her husband Guy (John Cassavetes) move into a new apartment and become friends with an old couple that lived next door, Roman and Minnie Castavet (Sidney Blackmer and Ruth Gordon, respectively), who conspire with Guy to impregnate Rosemary with the son of Satan himself, leading to a painful pregnancy and the birth of a demonic child.

The reveal that Roman and Minnie are Satanists has not lost its potency, despite the ubiquity of this story, because it reveals a truth that speaks both to the culture of the time and the culture of today. The Castavets are not the only members of this Satanic cult; every tenant in the apartment besides Rosemary has joined in the worship of Satan, and the depravity of these members of the “Greatest Generation” is meant to reveal the depravity that is necessary for having a successful domestic life in America.

This full depravity is not arrived at all at once; the film is very deliberate in showing that this level of corruption is arrived at by making a series of individual moral compromises, and we see this in Guy’s character arc. A struggling actor, Guy is immediately turned onto the Castavet’s cult when Roman promises off-screen to ensure that Guy gets a significant part in a play, “the kind of role that people notice,” as Guy puts it.

When he gets the role, Guy starts to exert pressure on his wife in small ways, leading her to eat a drugged dessert that will ensure Rosemary is asleep while Satan impregnates her,2 discouraging her from throwing a party with only friends her age, and throwing away the last gift Rosemary received from a mutual friend, all because it led her to (rightfully) believe that the Castavets were practicing witchcraft.

Guy’s pressure on her is only the backdrop to Rosemary’s struggles, however; she is the true center of this story. The compromises Rosemary seems to make are much more obvious, but despite being pressured to limit her agency and be compliant to Guy and the Castavets’ desires, Rosemary takes every opportunity she can to act on her own beliefs, engaging in little acts of rebellion and expertly hiding those acts from those around her.

This is the part of the review where the obligatory rave over Mia Farrow’s performance has to occur, but it’s honestly impossible not to rave at just how brilliant she is in the role. She puts on an air of innocence that serves to hide an incredible strength, all of which is devoted to trying to be the best mother she can for her child. She projects the sense of someone who desires the fulfillment that can come with domestic life and motherhood as well as the knowledge and insight of someone who knows that the trappings of domesticity are ultimately very dangerous. Her knowledge of that danger is what eventually leads her to flee home and bring a knife into the Castavet’s apartment, angrily trying to confront the people she believes have stolen her child away for use in a magic ritual.

The staging of this final scene is particularly important to the message of the film. Rosemary sneaks into the Castavet’s home through closet that connects her apartment with theirs, and she finds all of her neighbors sitting and chatting together around a black cradle adorned with an upturned cross. She wields a kitchen knife against them, but ultimately none of them are scared of her but one woman, who reacts with a scream that finally draws the group’s attention to her.

At this point, Rosemary is damaged, and this is her attempt to lash out at the people surrounding her for the harm they have caused, but even now she cannot break their façade of peaceful domesticity. Her presence does lead Roman Castavet to preach about the son of Satan and lead the crowd in a brief chant hailing their dark lord, but they immediately return to the peaceful conversations they were having as if “Hail Satan” was an absolutely normal cry for people to make at a party.

Then the baby starts to cry. No one can calm him down, because no one in this group has the proper temperament to be a mother.

Except Rosemary.

So she makes her way over to the cradle, trying to talk the woman rocking the demonic child into rocking him more gently, as that might calm him down. The woman doesn’t listen to Rosemary, but Roman does, and he shoos the woman away, beckoning Rosemary to come and take care of “her son.”

And the child, this son of Satan with yellow demonic eyes who caused her immeasurable pain, the child is still her son.

So she rocks him. And he calms.

Because what kind of mother would sit there and do nothing while her son cries for attention?

Rating: 4.5/5

1Discussing the work of Roman Polanski without mentioning that he confessed to the statutory rape of a thirteen-year-old girl is immoral and reprehensible. That does not mean that Polanski’s history of rape must be the interpretive lens through which the film is viewed, and it certainly doesn’t degrade the value of Rosemary’s Baby as a piece of art. There is, of course, nothing wrong with choosing to avoid supporting the work of sexual predators on principle, and it would be remiss to criticize anyone who avoids seeing any of Polanski’s films on those grounds.

2There is a significant cultural difference that must be noted here, however. While it is made very clear that Satan rapes Rosemary in her sleep, both through the imagery used and Rosemary’s description of her “dream,” when Rosemary wakes up and finds scratches on her side, Guy explains them away by saying that he “didn’t want to miss baby night,” implying that he slept with her while she was unconscious. Rosemary is somewhat disturbed by this revelation, but she adjusts to it fairly quickly, allowing the rest of the film to somehow gloss over the fact that her husband admits to raping her as a defense for why her actual rapist left scratches on her. It is a very uncomfortable moment, but it unfortunately can be explained away by the sexual politics of the time, as marital rape was completely legal in the state of New York (where the film is set) until 1984.

Rosemary’s Baby can be streamed via Amazon Prime and Hulu Plus.

Critical Eye Criticism is the work of Jacqueline Merritt, a trans woman, filmmaker, and critic. You can support her continued film criticism addiction on Patreon.

[crowlixcx]

You never say what you’re really thinking.

[clownowo]

been replaying the Portal series I think this is where its heading

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[somewhereincairparavel]

To the people saying "Jason wouldn't have jumped into tartarus for Piper, like Percy did for Annabeth" as a way to demean him. Jason, plunged into the sky from the grand canyon to catch Piper in the first few pages of the lost hero without even knowing who she was, and without the knowledge that he could fly. so he basically jumped to his death attempting to catch her. In the first few pages of his journey, he didn't mind dying to save Piper, and ironically, that's also what he did in the last few pages of his journey. Y'all just be making the most out of pocket claims abt jason fr

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

going through my old journals as part of therapy homework and i'm reading a section written in the emotional wreckage of a full-on breakdown when i get hit with this line:

There is never a satisfying answer to ‘Why didn’t they love me?’

like wow babe. good fucking point

[musubiki]

balor 🥰

[mcsiggy]

Imagine you're in middle school band class and your teacher asks you and your classmates if anyone wants to use their mp3 player to play a song before class ends. no one does anything until this small quiet girl from percussion takes her ipod out to play a song.

Then the song Chop Suey! By System Of A Down and the girl looks like this;

Because she thought it was a good song to play.

[keferon]

Biblically accurate Blurr~

Blurr's Spotlight was actually the very first Transformers comic I ever read. I remember looking at the first pages and being like, holy shit, dude why are you so ugly?? Ahahjcmgmg

[bowtiepastabitch]

So because I'm normal and well adjusted I was scrolling Michael's media tab on twitter just enjoying how pretty he is and....

....no nightingales

I am distraught. The omens. They were not fucking good.

[starjunkyard]

Hilson should have had ONE. (1) honest to god fistfight. Not talking about no pansy ass scuffle either i need a FIGHT. Im talking bloodied noses nd bruised cheeks. I need them to exchange words that will alter the course of their relationship forever. MOST OF ALL. They need to make out nastystyle afterwards

[courfee]

17 December 1975 / 15 May 1976

[giselles-dumping-hat]

So Act 3 is going great,

[xitsensunmoon]

My first ever comic con! And first cosplay too. Of course it's gonna be my boy :] Ramblings about the process are under the cut(Let me know if?? You would want me to elaborate with process images for any of the steps?)

The costume took me forever to make, as I've never done any machine sewing, sculpting, fabric dying or spray painting before but learning all of these was so fucking fun!! I never realised just how many different skills go into making a cosplay but it was so worth it!!!

Almost all of the clothes(except the hat) were purchased first as bases, but all of the detailing was added by me. All of the fabric used was originally just scraps that I was given for free so I needed to learn how to dye and dye all of the stars, they were originally white.

The sewing machine was its own beast that brought me tons of frustration from the lack of skill and knowledge (it was devastating to find out that 95% of fuck ups were my fault and not the machine's lmao). But as a result, a hat sewn from scratch, all of the fur trims, embroidery on the corset, stars and the collar(which is very hard to see on the pictures unfortunately) was all added manually. The stars and the stripes(on the back of the cape) were attached using heat-and-bond adhesive (I WISH I knew about such thing just when I started working on this. It would save me so much time and nerves.)

Then I found out about polymorph(mouldable plastic) and it has become the next thing I wanted to learn, to sculpt the claws and the fangs(yes, they're handmade jfksjs). The claws I then primed and painted in trillion coats because I wasn't satisfied with the colour of the spray paint. The fangs I moulded to my own teeth and then stained with tea to match the colour of my teeth :)c

As for makeup, I used Mehron Paradise water activated paints. At first I wanted to try to save money and bought myself Snazaroo instead, which unfortunately turned out to be a waste. Snazaroo didn't hold on my face for longer than 2 hours, cracking and peeling awfully. Mehron on the other hand survived 11 hours of me smiling, talking, emoting and such and didn't even crease at the smile lines(I'm actually shocked about that). It obviously works like any other makeup which means your skin texture and wrinkles won't go anywhere but Mehron's elasticity pleasantly surprised me. It did obviously smear from sweat and saliva(if you're eating and licking your lips) but if you don't touch the skin it just dries again, self setting. But if it's dry it's fully smear-proof. Highly recommend!

And last but not least, I've decided against painting my hands as it was very risky that I will stain everything I touch at the smallest hint of sweat. So instead I got myself gloves-tights(? Not sure how they're called but it's made from the same fabric as tights) and painted them with normal acrylic paint(did you know you could dye fabric with acrylic paint? I personally didn't), then heat set with an iron and voilà, they're reusable, my hands are not stained after an exhausting day and I don't stain everything I touch. It worked wonderfully which honestly was a surprise as I was really sceptical that acrylic paint will somehow stay in place.

I think this whole thing took me minimum of 6 months with big-big breaks for my school and life in general. But I'm really proud! This project taught me so many new skills and I couldn't have been happier about learning new knowledge, even if it sucked to fail in the meantime.

Everyone at the con was really nice and gave me a large confidence boost even tho it was my first time and I had no idea what I was doing. Taking photos with other people was really awkward/new for me as I hate cameras so I really had no idea how to pose/behave in front of one. But that's okay I think. This whole experience definitely made me want to do this again, so I think that will come with experience. Thank you for reading this far, hope you enjoyed this little summary :)

[thejadecount]

To anyone who wants to talk shit about bad story/character development in Deadpool & Wolverine CAN SHUT THE FUCK UP! I CAME TO SEE 2 HOURS OF DEADPOOL MAKING META & SEX JOKES AND HAVING HOMOEROTIC TENSION WITH WOLVERINE AND MARVEL DELIVERED EXACTLY THAT