Showing posts with label Roman Polanski. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Roman Polanski. Show all posts

Friday, October 05, 2018

favorite movie #64 - halloween edition: rosemary's baby

Favorite movies that have had an impact on me - #64 - Rosemary's Baby (1968) - Possibly my favorite horror film, Rosemary's Baby is great on so many levels. As strict horror, with it's satanist plot, as thriller, as woman's picture, as a parable of a bad marriage, as a woman's fear of pregnancy and everything it inflicts upon her body.

Newlyweds Rosemary and Guy Woodhouse score a fabulous New York City apartment. Soon after Guy gets a great acting job and Rosemary discovers that she is pregnant, and is filled with joy. But there are some things that mar her happiness — Guy gets the part after the first choice for the role has inexplicably become blind. Rosemary's dear friend Hutch suddenly sickens and dies. Her neighbors, the Castavets, although they seem to mean well, are becoming an intrusive presence in her life. And her pregnancy is not going smoothly — what is that sharp pain she keeps having, and will it hurt the baby?












Director Roman Polanski films an almost word-for-word version of the Ira Levin novel, but what brings it to life are the great performances: a fragile-looking Mia Farrow as Rosemary, a vulpine John Cassavetes as Guy, and the amazingly prosaic evil of Ruth Gordon's Minnie Castavet.

A fascinating little behind-the-scenes tidbit:

Polanski wanted to cast Hollywood old-timers as the coven members but did not know any by name. He drew sketches of how he envisioned each character, and they were used to fill the roles. In every instance, the actor cast strongly resembled Polanski's drawing. They included Ralph Bellamy, Patsy Kelly, Elisha Cook, Jr., Phil Leeds and Hope Summers. When Rosemary calls Donald Baumgart, the actor who goes blind and is replaced by Guy, the voice heard is that of actor Tony Curtis. Farrow, who had not been told who would be reading Baumgart's lines, recognized the voice but could not place it. The slight confusion she displays throughout the call was exactly what Polanski hoped to capture by not revealing Curtis' identity in advance. (from Wikipedia)

The super creepy lullaby sung by Mia Farrow was written by Krzysztof Komeda for the film. It has lyrics, although we only ever hear Rosemary sing the "La las":

Sleep safe and warm.
From my arms no power can take you.
Sleep safe and warm
Till my morning kisses awake you.
In the softness of the night,
Like a silver colored kite,
All your fears will fly and disapear
By morning's light.

La la la la
La la la la la la la la la
La la la la
La la la la la la la la la

Loving you as I love you,
Ev'ry night your whole life through,
I'll be gently watching over you
Sleep safe and warm.

Related:

what's up with all the scary movies lately?

down the rabbit hole with ira levin

Tuesday, May 05, 2015

what's up with all the scary movies lately?

I think some difficult things that I have been trying to work out lately have been coming out in my movie choices. When I cruise through the Netflix or HBO list of monthly movies, horror seems to be where I stop and make a choice. Horror movies have aways been great outlets. The results of my movie watching have been scary as hell — but I have been enjoying some great, creepy movies.

Time for a bedtime story ... and The Babadook.

The Babadook

This Australian film, written and directed by Jennifer Kent, is truly scary and visually amazing. If you can handle horror, I strongly urge you to grab a hold of this one, but maybe watch it first during daylight hours, as it is truly chilling. A mother (Essie Davis) and her young son (Noah Wiseman) are tormented by a supernatural entity that may have arisen from one of his bedtime stories. The house the mother and son live in is another character in the film. Kent is not afraid to showcase the mother's ambivalent feelings about her son, which can exist concurrently with mother love. One of the scariest and creepiest movies I've ever seen. I don't know if I'd want to see it again anytime soon, it's so powerful, but it's a definite classic.

Rosemary's Baby


The Babadook made me want to revisit the old favorite Rosemary's Baby. Roman Polanski's 1968 film is still as creepy and compelling as ever. The apartment that young marrieds Rosemary (Mia Farrow) and Guy (John Cassavetes) move into at the famous Dakota building in Manhattan is again, an important character in the film. I had forgotten how risqué and frightening the central rape scene was — quite daring for 1968. The movie works brilliantly as horror, but it also resonates as a portrait of a bad marriage and a woman's loss of her self in a relationship. Guy, not Satan, is the true villain of the piece. Rosemary tries so hard to make a home and be supportive for her traitorous husband. The horror is not just supernatural, but domestic.

Rosemary and Guy in Manhattan

The Woods

Not as great as the other two films, but The Woods was still effective. Good actors and some stunning visuals made up for a murky script. I'm still not completely sure why the supernatural forces in the woods surrounding an exclusive all-girls school are so bloodthirsty, but headmistress Ms. Traverse (Patricia Clarkson) and young heroine Heather (Agnes Bruckner) make it all very watchable. Horror film veteran Bruce Campbell is also a very welcome addition to the spooky proceedings as Heather's father.

The Omen

I remember loving this movie and being really chilled by it as a kid. Isn't this where every kid learned about "666"? Watching it again recently it is not as scary, but it was pretty creepy. Gregory Peck is quite good as a hero in way over his head with forces he isn't willing to understand. The all-star cast includes a very touching Lee Remick as his wife, David Warner as a paparazzi who tries to help them, and Billie Whitelaw as nanny to their demon spawn Damien.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

the girl

Samantha Geimer, who in 1977 was the 13 year-old who was "the girl" in the infamous Roman Polanski sexual abuse case, has finally chosen to tell the whole, sordid story in her own words in The Girl: A Life in the Shadow of Roman Polanski. The book's title is more apt than might first be suspected. Geimer not only endured the events of that evening so many years ago, but has had her life inextricably, unfavorably linked with the famous director ever since.

In The Girl Geimer takes a mostly unblinking look at her life and Polanski's, and details, step-by-step, the events that led up to her being plied with champagne and part of a Quaalude, and eventually subject to multiple sex acts with Polanski against her will.

Samantha Geimer, at 13, photographed by Roman Polanski

Geimer's mom, an aspiring actress, moved her two young daughters to Los Angeles with her latest boyfriend, who got a job selling advertising for Marijuana Monthly magazine. Welcome to 1970s L.A. Mom didn't just want to secure acting jobs for herself, but encouraged both of her daughters to try out for parts too. One evening she met the director Roman Polanski at a party. He told her he was interested in photographing American girls for a Paris Vogue magazine spread. Excited, she invited him to meet Samantha. He came to their house and then took her on a drive to a nearby park, where they "rehearsed": he photographed her, first clothed, and then, with a little encouragement, topless.

Geimer is able to channel her teenage self, in all its insecurities, as well as attitude. She articulates very well her resistance and fear mixed with the ambition and misplaced starstruck hopes that this "little thing" of taking her top off might lead to a big career. She of course didn't tell her mother the little detail about taking off her shirt when she got back home. Geimer wants the reader to understand that at no time did she think there was anything sexual or untoward about the shoot with Polanski. And most importantly, that her mother had no idea, and would never have "pimped out" her daughter, an accusation that was hurled many times after the rape.
"You know, there's something about fame. There just is. I mean, think about the kids who had sleepovers at Michael Jackson's house and all the accusations that followed. Think about their parents. Were they bad or stupid people? No. They just wanted to believe that being famous made you good."
Polanski came back a second time, a few weeks later, and suggested that he was ready now to do the shoot for real. Again her mother didn't accompany them, as Polanski told her that it might make her daughter nervous, less natural. He took Geimer first to the home of actress Jacqueline Bisset, where she was offered some wine (she declined). They took a few photos and then he took her to another friend's house – the actor Jack Nicholson, who was away from home at the time. Polanski started plying her with champagne, which now she didn't refuse. He also gave her part of a Quaalude and photographed her in the kitchen.
"He asked me if I knew what it [the Quaalude] was. I didn't want to seem like a stupid kid, so I said, 'Sure.'"
Polanski then suggested she take off her clothes and get in the jacuzzi for more photographs, where he joined her. He soon moved her to the bedroom, where he proceeded to have sex with her. Geimer transmits her failing resistance as the drugs and alcohol and general atmosphere took effect. She details the sex acts, and later, the pounding on the bedroom door which helped end things – Nicholson's girlfriend, Angelica Huston, came home early. It's a sordid, upsetting read.

At Jack Nicolson's house
And then things really got ugly. That same evening, after he took her home, Polanski showed her mother photos from the first shoot, which included some of the topless photos. Shocked, she asked him to leave. Geimer's sister quickly discovered the truth and helped her mother put two and two together. The police were called and the nightmare really began. Geimer's life became a cycle of making depositions and trying to stay out of the picture as Polanski was arrested and Hollywood and the public began to take sides. Her family and lawyer tried to keep her identity secret for as long as they could. But as the story was reported (and reported and reported ad nauseum) it seemed that as many thought "the girl" was a slut or an opportunist as an innocent child. Geimer knew she had been used and abused by Polanski, but she was also angry at her mother for bringing the whole embarrassing episode into the public eye.

Geimer never apologizes for Polanski, but over the years she has had a lot of time to consider his behavior. She proclaims she is no fan of his films – Chinatown bored her – but she writes feelingly about his youth, and persecution as a Polish Jew during WWII, and his escape from the Kraków Ghetto. How he watched his parents being taken away to concentration camps. His mother was killed in Auschwitz. His father survived Mauthausen, but they were never as close after he finally came home. He attended film school and eventually began to have success as a director. He life seemed to have finally come together when he met and married the actress Sharon Tate, who he met on the set of his film The Fearless Vampire Killers. But a year after they were married, she was brutally murdered by The Manson Family. She was eight months pregnant at the time.

Throughout the book she tries to frame the events of her life, and especially that evening, in the context of the times. She is very aware that Hollywood, especially in those days, had a taste for nymphets – with Brooke Shields in Pretty Baby (1978), Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver (1976) and Foxes (1980), and Tatum O'Neal in Little Darlings (1980).
"In the 1970s ... There was something considered generally positive about erotic experience then, even in the absence of anything beyond the sex itself. The idea was that emotional growth came about through an expanded sexuality – for both the person in power and the relatively powerless. This is important to consider, because this is the cultural paradigm Roman Polanski was sopping up in 1977. As wrong as he was to do what he did, I know beyond a doubt that he didn't look at me as one of his victims. Not everyone will understand this, but I never thought he wanted to hurt me; he wanted me to enjoy it. He was arrogant and horny. But I feel certain he was not looking to take pleasure in my pain."
Geimer and her family accepted a plea bargain from Polanski's lawyers to keep her name out of the public record, and most importantly, the papers. But the judge on the case, Judge Laurence J. Rittenband, seemed more interested in the reflected limelight than justice for either party, and he reneged on his original decision of probation for Polanski (after he had already served 42 days in jail) to additional potential incarceration, of up to 50 years. Not surprisingly, Polanski booked the first flight out, and sought refuge in Europe, staying in countries like France, where he could not be extradited to the U.S. And he has been exiled ever since.

But Geimer's life didn't settle down once Polanski was out of the picture. Every time his name might come up in the news – whether for a new film being released, or an attempt to reopen the case, she and her family would be hounded by the press. She writes unflinchingly of her teen pregnancy, drug use, and drifting aimlessly for a number of years through life, from one crisis to the next. She is not one for regrets, but admits that undeniably her life would have been different if she hadn't taken that ride in the car with Polanski to Nicholson's house.

The Girl is a fast and compelling read, but it doesn't provide any easy answers. The case, even after all these years, is far from closed. Geimer points out that Polanski the artist, the director of such classic films as Rosemary's Baby, Chinatown, and The Pianist, should be viewed separately from the horny man with a taste for young girls. Many people are able and willing to do that, but there are just as many who aren't. Geimer, who was the victim of a rape, of sex against her will, would also hope that she would not be viewed forever as a victim. She doesn't consider herself one. She comes across beleaguered at times, but always strong.

Samantha Geimer is married, with three sons, and splits her life between Hawaii and Nevada. For better or worse, Geimer's and Polanski's lives, from that evening in March 1977 forward, were forever linked. She acknowledges that Polanski has been just as much a prisoner, as pursued relentlessly by the media and misused by the U.S. criminal justice system, as she has. Strangers but not strangers, they seem to have settled their differences and found some sort of peace with one another. She may not ever be able to completely leave that night with Polanski behind her, but she has finally had the chance to tell her story, unfiltered.

Thursday, April 04, 2013

ewan mcgregor and jack the giant slayer

Ewan McGregor is not the star of Jack the Giant Slayer, but he is what I remember most about the movie. It was actually kind of a schizophrenic viewing experience. The live action, with the charming McGregor, the always fun-to-watch Ian McShane as the king, the dastardly evil king's advisor Roderick, played by Stanley Tucci, and Jack, played by the all-grown-up and handsome Nicholas Hoult (can you believe this is the same kid from About A Boy?), are undeniably the best parts of the movie.

The CGI giants that Jack and his pals are up against, however, are unremittingly ugly, unpleasant, and un-involving to watch. So much hard work for such a poor return. I would have much preferred to see Bill Nighy, who plays the main giant, General Fallon, as himself, blown up with the aid of computers to a giant size, than what we were given — his horribly animated counterpart. It's hard to believe that director Bryan Singer, who has ably balanced live action and special effects/animation in the three previous X-Men movies (X-Men, X2, X-Men First Class) would let such miserable-looking giants get past the drawing board stage.

Fee, fi, fo, fum — Yuk, yukky, yukkier, and yukkiest
But back to Ewan McGregor. As the king's top knight, Elmont, McGregor has a blast, whether twirling his waxed moustache or being captured and rolled up in a giant's pastry. As I watched him in Jack the Giant Slayer I realized that McGregor truly has the best shit-eating grin in movies. His larger-than-life enthusiasm, which he carries from role to role, is just infectious.

I'm no fan of the more recent Star Wars flicks, but McGregor's young Obi Wan Kenobi was easily the least embarrassing performance of the trilogy. I prefer watching McGregor in the more enjoyable, but incredibly cheesy science-fiction flick The Island, where he and Scarlett Johansson discover that their perfect world may not really be that wonderful after all — they are clones whose owners want them to exist solely for use as "spare parts." Whether playing a junkie in Trainspotting or a smarmy suitor in Emma, McGregor is always irresistible. His 500-watt smile and winning performance in Moulin Rouge, whether he is speaking or singing, steals the movie away from his co-star Nicole Kidman. All of the other actors, sets and trappings in the over-the-top production just can't compare.


I dare you to name an actor with a better smile
McGregor can dial down his grin when necessary. In Woody Allen's Cassandra's Dream he plays Colin Farrell's smarter (?) brother, trying desperately to change his circumstances for the better, even if the way out of his current situation includes murder. In Roman Polanski's excellent Ghost Writer he is a more diffident sort — quiet, lurking around the edges of the movie until he realizes that the book he is ghost writing may not only put him in the spotlight, but in actual danger.

One of Hollywood's most hardworking actors, McGregor is in many movies that are worth checking out: The Impossible, Salmon Fishing in the Yemen, Beginners, Miss Potter, Big Fish, Young Adam, Down with Love, Little Voice, Velvet Goldmine. Is his latest, Jack the Giant Slayer, worth checking out? If you can focus on the actors and are not too put off by the video-game-reject-looking giants, it can be a fun diversion. And Ewan McGregor's grin helps a lot.

Smiles all around — Ewan McGregor, Eleanor Tomlinson, and Nicholas Hoult bid adieu to some pesky giants



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Monday, October 15, 2012

halloween memories — barbara steele

Some of my fondest memories are of watching scary movies with my dad when I was a kid. Many of the movies have become favorites of mine as an adult when I have had the chance to see them again - Curse of the Demon, starring Dana Andrews, Jacques Tourneur's Cat People, and when I was a bit older, Roman Polanski's Rosemary's Baby.

I have always looked forward to Halloween, not just for the costume and the candy (which of course is big), but for the fact that a lot of these old scary movies would be pulled out and shown on late night or cable television. There are many movies which have made a big impression on me, but also a precious few that seem to have fallen out of regular rotation, even on channels like TCM. Two of these lost favorites are Italian horror films and star 60s scream queen Barbara Steele. Castle of Blood, is actually available for sale on TCM's site. The synopsis:
Prepare yourself for the terror that awaits you across the pond in Castle of Blood (1964). Edgar Allan Poe (Silvano Tranquilli) travels to London and makes a wager with a British journalist (Georges Rivière) that he cannot spend an entire night in a haunted castle. Upon accepting the wager, his first night is filled with visits from beyond the grave, of souls who are damned to replay the stories of their demise on the anniversaries of their deaths.
What I most remember is the twist ending — which of course I won't give away here, and Barbara Steele's completely creepy but sexy leading lady vibe. It was easy to see how the hapless hero played by Georges Rivière would fall for Steele.


In Nightmare Castle Steele plays two roles, sisters Muriel and Jenny Arrowsmith. She gets to be a blonde and is as creepy and gorgeous as ever. The synopsis:
A sadistic count tortures and murders his unfaithful wife and her lover, then removes their hearts from their bodies. Discovering that his wife has drawn up a new will giving her fortune to her institutionalized sister, the count marries his sister-in-law. The new wife experiences nightmares and hauntings. The ghosts of the slain return to exact their bloody revenge, until their hearts are destroyed.
Yikes! The movie is actually in the public domain, so enjoy!



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Wednesday, March 16, 2011

roman polanski's ghosts

Article first published as Movie Review: The Ghost Writer on Blogcritics.



I was about a half hour into watching The Ghost Writer before I realized/remembered that it was directed by Roman Polanski. There was something in the way Ewan McGregor was framed on the screen, with the landscape behind him that told me. Something about how Eli Wallach slowly walked out of a doorway that had just that hint of Rosemary's Baby. The way Olivia Williams looked at Pierce Brosnan that brought back Frantic. The wondering exactly who might be Kim Cattrall's never-seen but often referred-to husband that suggested Chinatown.


We never learn McGregor's character's name. He is truly a ghost as he travels in the background of the world of British ex-Prime Minister Adam Lang, played by Brosnan, who may have his best role and performance here. The Ghost has been hired to "fix" Lang's memoirs, which he finds to be singularly unimpressive, " ... the cure for insomnia," but he is quickly drawn into the strange, sealed-off world that Lang and his coterie of bodyguards, employees, friends, and family inhabits. The Ghost becomes interested in them and their secrecy, and promises that he can deliver the goods, " ... all the words are there, they're just in the wrong order." Sitting in a hotel bar watching Lang on television making an official and hopefully career and image-saving statement using words he, the Ghost, has crafted, underlines how quickly integrated into Lang's life he has become, yet also how invisible.

The Ghost Writer is based on a novel by Robert Harris, who used Tony Blair and his relationship with the U.S. during the war with Iraq as the basis for the character of Lang and much of the plot machinations. The movie could be read simply on that level, as a political thriller with contemporary parallels, but the viewer would miss so much more. The Ghost Writer is a subtle movie. Its surfaces are not exactly sleek, but they are practically monochromatic, hiding the deeper, more intense colors that must be roiling beneath the surface grays. It has standard mystery, suspense, and thriller elements, but it is much more than its on-the-surface political plot. The movie is about the inevitability that our connections with certain people, certain times, certain projects, have on our ultimate fate. It is also a bit of a horror movie — a sense of dread that permeates almost every scene. It's one of the best movies I have seen in a long time. And one of the best-looking.


Polanski presents a series of ghost and shadow figures: Lang's original ghostwriter, who is found dead— washed up on a nearby beach, his successor who seems fated to follow the clues the first ghost has left behind, the prime minister's wife who is the real power behind the throne, a college professor and old classmate of Lang's who seems inexplicably sinister. Harris, who cowrote the script with Polanski, has stated in an interview that Blair had ostensibly been a ghostwriter to President Bush when giving public reasons for invading Iraq. There are shadows within shadows.

There is a scene in the middle of the film, when Lang, surrounded by advisors, learns that he has been accused of war crimes and can no longer go home to London or any country that is part of the International Criminal Court. Frustrated, he asks, "Where can I go?" and is informed that he can remain in the U.S., or travel to China, India, and maybe a few places in Africa — all countries who are not members of the Court or its jurisdiction. Polanski is definitely pointing to his own situation, but the self-reference, which could have been maudlin, isn't. It is a grim fact of both Polanski's and Brosnan's character's existence that they have been living like quasi-prisoners for years. As beautiful as the beachfront island estate is where Lang resides, it is also a bunker.


In 1977 Polanski pled guilty to a single count of having unlawful sexual intercourse with a minor, Samantha Geimer, who was 13 years old at the time. Polanski admitted to having sex with the girl, and did 42 days in prison for the crime, but fled the U.S. before final sentencing, as he was convinced the judge in the case would not give him a fair hearing. He has lived as a fugitive ever since, initially fleeing to France, where he became a citizen, and was protected from extradition to the U.S. Geimer has long since moved on from the original crime and just wants the courts and the media to leave her family and even Polanski free to lead their lives, as she feels they have both been misused by the legal system.

Polanski also has a house in Switzerland, and was able to come and go until September 2009, when the U.S. insisted he be put under house-arrest awaiting extradition. Many in the film industry, including Woody Allen, Wong Kar Waï, Patrice Leconte, David Lynch, Michael Mann, Tilda Swinton, Wim Wenders, and Tom Twyker signed a petition protesting the director's arrest. The U.S.'s extradition request was ultimately rejected by the Swiss and Polanski is once again "free."

As reported in the New York Times, the director had to be a bit of a ghost himself while making The Ghost Writer, " ... Mr. Polanski occasionally avoided the set, directing through a remote communications setup ... " Polanski's paranoia trickled into the character of the Ghost, who starts to look over his shoulder at the slightest sound, convinced that someone is after him for what he may know, even though he is still not sure what that could be. The Ghost meets with a former colleague of Lang who tries to alleviate his fears of Lang, "He can't drown two ghost writers, for god's sake. You're not kittens!"


It's hard for many to divorce the artist from their art, the person from the work. An artist puts themselves into their work, as is on evidence in The Ghost Writer. But the film is not the man. Polanski has done time for his crime. He has admitted that what he has done was wrong. The desire to continue to punish him seems strange, but like the Ghost, somehow inevitable for this director who has been chasing ghosts all his life — at the age of 10 he escaped the Kraków Ghetto in 1943 posing as a Roman Catholic named Romek Wilk, and he has had to live with the guilt that he was out of town when his beloved wife Sharon Tate was murdered by the Manson family in 1969.

All of the events in an artist's life can be seen as ghosts and shadows in their work. Polanski may have stronger shadows than most. But he also makes stronger movies. The Ghost Writer is a wonderful, paranoid, hopeless and intriguing film.
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Tuesday, May 12, 2009

did I just see that?

I caught some of the Johnny Depp/Roman Polanski movie The Ninth Gate last night and tuned in just in time to see one of the stranger scenes, where Emanuelle Seigner flies to Depp's rescue on the banks of the Seine. The movies is adapted from just the supernatural aspect of a novel I really liked by Arturo Perez-Reverte, The Club Dumas.It made me think of some other movies that I have watched more than once because of a perplexing scene, performance, plot, or all of the above. These mysteries actually make the films more appealing - a riddle you can never quite decipher.

River Phoenix's performance and his interactions with Samantha Mathis make Peter Bogdonavich's The Thing Called Love something beyond a youthful romance picture. Ostensibly about young musicians trying to break into the country music scene (and there's some great music), the film really becomes a struggle to understand why this romance sometimes just won't, and sometimes does, work. I can never totally figure it out, and it seems, neither can they.


The Big Sleep and Beat the Devil are two puzzlers from Humphrey Bogart. Maybe not the greatest of his movies, but definitely enjoyable to watch him parry with his costars, especially Lauren Bacall and Jennifer Jones (pretending to be Vivien Leigh?).



I remember watching Elia Kazan's The Last Tycoon a few times, trying to work out why Robert DeNiro couldn't quite understand or hold onto an elusive girl. It's from an unfinished story by F. Scott Fitgerald, which might be a factor, but more, I think, this movie illustrates the elusive, temporary nature of all movies and why we come back for repeat viewings, to re-experience them. Sort of like reliving memories. Or past romances. It also has one of my favorite scenes about the power of movies.