faith in rosemary and her baby

the importance of the rewatch

To kick off my October horror film watching I went back to an old favorite. I have certain little "rules" or "traditions" that I follow in which I try to consume at least a movie a day for the spookiest month of the year. One of those rules is to start the month off with a film I know is great instead of something I haven't seen before. You know, just to get October off on the right foot. This year's movie was one that I've watched several times in the past and absolutely adore: Rosemary's Baby (Polanski, 1968).

I think re-watching films is an important practice, particularly with intention - not just having the movie on in the background. Throwing on your comfort food film while you clean or do laundry, is a totally fine practice - but I also think it's important to sit with a movie again and reappraise it with whatever new insights you've gained since the last time you watched it. As the saying goes, no man steps in the same river twice - different river, different man. And I find that the feeling of seeing a film again after some time away and some new life experiences to be a really exciting exercise. Since it's been a few years since I'd watched Rosemary's Baby, I was really interested in what I'd register this time, though I'll admit there was some slight anxiety that the film wouldn't speak to me with the same gravity as it had in the past, a fear that has been realized many times before. There's a certain kind of sadness when we discover a film or book or song that we used to love ceases to connect with us the way it first did. Sometimes it's for the better, sometimes not. I'm glad to say Rosemary's Baby still engages me, and the performance of Mia Farrow continues to haunt me in the most wonderful way.

But what else did I gain from this recent viewing?

what does rosemary believe?

There's a scene early in the film where Rosemary and her husband Guy go over to the Castevets’ apartment for dinner. It comes after Terry, the former drug addict who was staying with the Castevets, jumps out a window and kills herself, and is probably before Guy joins with them in a plot to impregnate Rosemary with the Anti-Christ. They're discussing the Pope visiting New York and the following exchange takes place.

MR. CASTEVET

No Pope ever visits a city where the newspapers are on strike.

MRS. CASTEVET

I heard he's going to postpone and wait till it's over.

GUY

Well, that's show biz.

MR. CASTEVET

(Still laughing)

That's just what it is. The costumes, the rituals.

MRS. CASTEVET

I think we're offending Rosemary.

ROSEMARY

No, no, not at all~

MR. CASTEVET

You are not religious, my dear, are you?

ROSEMARY

I was brought up a Catholic, now I don't know.

MRS. CASTEVET

You looked uncomfortable.

ROSEMARY

Well, he is the Pope.

This scene has two purposes. One, it builds a bond between Guy and Mr. Castevet. Guy didn't even want to go to the dinner and had to be convinced by Rosemary that this would be a nice gesture, seeing as Terry had just died. The connection between Castevet and Guy begins here with their shared feelings about organized religion reflected in their cynicism regarding the Catholic form of Christianity. This bond develops after this exchange when Castevet butters Guy up by recalling some inane gesture he made on stage one time. As an actor myself I find this scene so goddamn hilarious. "Someone noticed something I did! They're probably awesome!"

But this particular bit of dialogue serves another purpose in regards to Rosemary. We can see through her words and Mia Farrow's performance that she's uncomfortable with the conversation and reveals some interesting information about herself through two of the lines. The first of these lines is that she was raised Catholic, but now she "doesn't know."

What does "doesn't know" mean? It's a commonly spoken refrain among agnostics most of which share a similar backstory. They admit that they were influenced during their formative years by some form of religion - a possible admission that they still adhere to some of those ideas (certain morals or ethics perhaps) - but currently they question the whole concept enough that they're non-committal to the religion itself or even whether there's a god at all. They "don't know."

This gets affirmed with Rosemary's next line "Well, he is the Pope." She doesn't know how she feels exactly, or at the very least isn't willing to say in public, but clowning on the Pope might be a step too far in her personal journey of spiritual understanding. She's not ready for that, if she ever will be.

What I think is clear about Rosemary is that she wants to believe in something. Like a lot of people she just doesn't know what that something should be.

As the film goes on, the Castevets, with the aid of Guy, further entrench themselves in Rosemary's life, manipulating her into doing everything necessary to ensure the birth of the Anti-Christ, one who will reward them with whatever they want. In order to do this, they have to exploit her desire to do right by her child so she won't catch on until it's too late.

They give her a talisman with a kind of vague promise that the root inside will bring luck, or ward off bad vibes, or protect the baby - or whatever. It's good, okay? Take it or leave it. Rosemary, who wants to believe in something, wears the necklace despite its off putting smell, showing a willingness to put at least some faith in this object and its supposed powers. Once Rosemary is pregnant, Mrs. Castevet fixes her some kind of daily herbal drink and Rosemary puts her faith in the extra good potency of fresh herbs and the idea that this all natural healing tonic will ensure the health of her child. What's in it? No one really knows. Just believe in it. It couldn't hurt, could it?

The tragic flaw of Rosemary is that her intuition is mostly right, something is wrong with these people, and something bad is happening behind her back, but, just as the Castevet's had hoped, she doesn't have the conviction to stick to her guns and fight back until it's much too late. Obviously, everyone gaslighting her so she believes her concerns are just in her head play a role in this. But she also wants to believe that everything is okay. That the magic root works. That the all-natural milk shake works. She's having a baby, and she might be desperate to believe in anything.

At the film's end, Rosemary's suspicions are confirmed. But, and this is the exciting part for me, not only was she right about the plot against her and her child, but also the tanis root medallion was actually magic, the all-natural tonic was actually magic, Satan is actually real, and the God that the Pope speaks for is actually real too. God may not be dead, as the Time Magazine cover asks, but Rosemary's Baby might be the beginning of its demise.

nature, nurture or infanticide

And I think that's why Rosemary opts to take care of the Anti-Christ in the end - as opposed to, say, jumping out the window or smothering it with a pillow. Rosemary chooses to be the Son of Satan's mother, not because she's gone to the dark side, but because she's finally found her faith. On this viewing of the film, I felt like Rosemary believes in her power as a mother and that she can shape this child's future. If this baby's nature is Satanic, then it's nurture will be Rosemary, and so is it possible that this synthesis might result in something new? Something no one, not even Adrian Castevet could imagine?

There's something special about seeing a child and recognizing the unlimited potential that lives within them. I can say, as a parent myself, that it's inspiring and exciting to watch. Watching my kids and their friends, cousins, teammates, classmates all grow and learn from the world is honestly invigorating. It gives me hope. I find it obnoxious when I hear people from older generations denounce the younger ones, declaring whole generations as entitled or selfish or uneducated. It's mostly sour grapes derived from a feeling that that they, the older generation, didn't quite fulfill their own potential. Maybe they didn't make the money they hoped, or they didn't fix the world the way they thought. Things didn't turn out the way they wanted, and they can't help but hold disdain for people about to begin their own journey.

"Youth is wasted on the young," they'll say.

"Experience is wasted on the old," I wonder.

So Adrian Castevet and his cult of Satan worshipers think this child will fulfill all their hopes and dreams. That the baby will live the life they've set out for it. I'm reminded of the film Varsity Blues (Robbins, 1999) and James Vanderbeek telling his overbearing father "I don't want your life." A laughable line that my friends would quote with a fake Texas drawl. But perhaps that's the future of our little Anti-Christ in training. I'd like to hope so. I don't know if it's possible unless Rosemary is involved, and thankfully the film's ending suggests she will be. We can't forget the title of the story is indeed Rosemary's Baby not Satan's Son.

Perhaps that's an optimistic reading. Maybe I won't read the movie that way when I re-watch it in a year or two. But for whatever reason it's what I saw on this rewatch: good, evil, god and the devil, Rosemary chooses to be the shepherd, a role with so much more meaning.

what even is a shepherd

I think the most interesting bit of writing Quentin Tarantino ever did was Jules' speech near the end of Pulp Fiction(1994). In the scene, Jules, played by Samuel L. Jackson, mulls over a (fake) Bible passage he recites often. His quote, which was actually lifted less from the Bible and more from the Sonny Chiba film Bodyguard Kiba(Takamori, 1971), goes something like this:

"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon you."

In Pulp Fiction, Jules, who only quoted the line because it sounded like some cool shit to say before murdering someone, is actually trying to determine what it means. He's taking something he did out of blind tradition and actually wondering how it applies to his life, choosing to see if the words he speaks apply to his every day action.

Is he "the weak"? Is he the shepherd? In his conversation with Pumpkin(Tim Roth), he seems to settle on the idea that he is "the tyranny of evil men", but that he'd very much like to be the shepherd instead. It's a very classic form of masculine duality.

Coming to this conclusion, means he's recognized that he's just an extension of his boss', Marsellus Wallace's, tyranny. He's but a tool, that, according to his quote, troubles and hinders the path of the righteous. And that maybe didn't bother him so much the day before, but it does now. Remember that this "moment of clarity" has come about after he has a near fatal experience in which he was shot at from point blank range and no bullet harmed him. It's a moment that defies reason, and may actually be "miraculous". And when faced with evidence of some kind of divine intervention, Jules starts to ask himself some pretty important questions in regards to how he lives his life.

What was Jules about to die for? Some other man's desire(the glowing briefcase)?

Rosemary's life goes through a similar trauma, realizing the entire world around her is both not what it pretends to be, but also exactly what she feared it to be. This, like Jules, is her moment of clarity. And, like Jules, she determines the best course of action is to be a shepherd.

But what does that even mean?

For Jules it means that he let's Pumpkin and Honey Bunny leave with their lives, recognizing that these two thieves are "the weak". He forgives them their transgressions but also sets boundaries - they can leave with everyone else's stuff and even the money out of his own wallet, but they can't leave with his boss' briefcase. On the surface, this seems like Jules isn't a very good shepherd because he's still protecting another man's desire- but his reasoning is that if Pumpkin and Honey Bunny take this case the vengeance of Marsellus Wallace will find them in the end.

In other words, they don't understand how close they are to dealing with wolves, and Jules has come to the realization that it's his job to shield them from the tyranny of evil men. Even if that tyranny is himself.

But what kind of shepherd will Rosemary be?

When Rosemary found herself isolated by the cultists and her husband, on the run with no one to turn to - she could only whisper to her then unborn child - "Little Andy or Jenny", she called them. One particular line she uttered was one that I feel most parents can related to:

"Don't worry, little Andy or Jenny, I'll kill them before I let them touch you."

Perhaps this is the key difference between Jules and Rosemary. For Jules, he was willing to kill Pumpkin and Honey Bunny, because if he didn't they would surely all die because of Marsellus Wallace. For Rosemary, she's willing to fight directly those which she perceives to be evil in order to protect the weak - in this case Little Andy. Or Jenny.

But the two characters are similar in that both choose to operate within the parameters of the system they're presented with. Jules understands the laws of the underworld, and knows the consequences that befall the weak. The weak know not what they do, and must be shielded by those who understand these unseen codes and rules. Rosemary has an innate understanding of maternal care, recognizing the power it has and is willing to put her faith in her instinct to protect the weak.

There's probably more to Jules and Rosemary than just this, but I haven't rewatched Pulp Fiction in years and am mostly going from memory and low quality clip from youtube. Perhaps its time to revisit that film as well.

to be a shepherd

Recently I celebrated the 18th birthday of my oldest son. It's a crazy feeling. I can officially say I've raised an adult. He can vote and shit.

And we've reached this point where it's clear that he needs to go out and deal with the world on his own terms. Gail and I have prepared him as much as we can, and, if I can brag on my wife and I, I think we've raised a decent human being, who we hope will have a positive effect on the world.

But it's a stressful time nonetheless, because Gail and I both remember the struggles and hardships that we had in our early adulthood, knowing that our son will go through his own. It's hard to let your kid go out and suffer and make their mistakes.

On time we were at a sporting event, and my wife and I overheard this mother lamenting to some others about her college student's life choices. "She wants to go to college. She wants to move to the city," the mother said. "I didn't do those things and I have a job that supports my family. I'm proud of that. She doesn't need to do these things to be a good person. It's so dangerous."

Gail and I just looked at each other a little mortified, but a little relieved that as much as we'd love to keep our son with us forever(and ever and ever...), we're not that bad.

When we think of shepherds, we think of a guardian of some kind of livestock like sheep. The shepherd watches over the sheep while they graze, defecate, and procreate. They protect the sheep when predators come to feast because sheep are incapable of protecting themselves. And this goes on until eventually the sheep die.

There's not much difference between a baby sheep and an adult sheep. It's a question of conditioning really. The adult sheep will eventually understand the rules of the pasture on a very rudimentary level, but the growth in intelligence from a child sheep to an adult sheep doesn't remotely compare to humans.

When a humans grow up they've got options. They can remain sheep for example. Or they can become a wolf. Or they can become the shepherd themselves. And what choice they make is determined, in part, by who their shepherd was. Sure, the human has free will, but the lessons imparted to them by their shepherds(teachers, parents, mentors, etc) helps determine how that free will is exercised.

I'd like to think I raised a shepherd.

In fact, I'd like to think that if I was told by group of people, sheep perhaps wolves probably, that my child was destined to be some kind of monster, I would have the faith in my self and ultimately my child that with a little love, empathy and guidance that maybe, just maybe, they'd still be a shepherd.

But you never really know. And that's why Rosemary's Baby is a horror film. Because trying to raise a shepherd is fucking terrifying - whether they're the Anti-Christ or not.

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