The notion that “a prequel to a traditional film concerning the delivery of the Antichrist” could be a familiar concept by now is hardly surprising – just last April, another film delivered a gruesomely artistic exploration of events leading up to this pivotal moment. While endeavouring to replicate the original, the film’s narrative surprisingly yields fewer surprises than expected, yet still manages to anchor itself with an engaging premise that warrants thoughtful consideration.
Influenced by Ira Levin’s 1967 novel “Rosemary’s Baby” and Roman Polanski’s 1968 film adaptation, Natalie Erika James co-wrote and directed her own 2020 psychological horror film, in which three generations of women confront a sinister presence haunting their family home. As an eerie alternative to the darkness that pervades, another foreboding abode takes center stage: the Bramford, a onetime majestic New York City condominium building whose decrepit walls now hide a coterie of ancient and equally withered Satanists.
While the brand new film’s production design meticulously attends to detail, its setting successfully captures a sense of authenticity without directly copying the tone or aesthetic of Roman Polanski’s original. While certain elements persist, the juxtaposition of narrow partitioning allows the soaring vocals and plaintive piano melodies from “Für Elise” to drift seamlessly across the different models.
As the imposing structure’s wooden façade looms before him, Terry Gionoffrio, a man of distinct character, stumbles through the entrance, his path illuminated by soft yellow lighting that casts an eerie glow. In the early 1960s, Terry’s career as a dancer was just taking off in 1965 when a devastating injury brought her promising journey to a screeching halt. Julia Garner, in subsequent years, lends a vulnerability to her portrayal of Terry, imbuing the character with a depth and emotional authenticity that resonates deeply. As she navigates the crippling weight of financial struggles, the crushing blows of audition rejections, and the treacherous undertow of addiction to painkillers, her growing sense of desperation is exacerbated by the unbearable certainty that the very objectives she has been doggedly pursuing are forever eluding her grasp?
You perceive why she might make choices she wouldn’t otherwise, such as accepting a free place to stay from Minnie and Roman Castavet – Dianne Wiest and Kevin McNally delivering solid performances, albeit less iconic than those of Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer – shortly after meeting them for the first time. The Castevets, in reality, devoted themselves to assisting troubled young women rebuild their lives. Terry is also fortunate enough to have a close friend in Jim Sturgess, a Bramford resident who has recently penned a brand-new musical.
While acknowledging the unhealthy nature of Terry’s fixation, James and Garner subtly bring emotional depth to his increasingly dire circumstances through Rosemary’s connection to Satan’s next vessel, ensuring Terry’s character remains relatable despite the darkness surrounding him.
Similar to Rosemary, she finds herself lost in a narrative that’s both darkly alluring and suffocating, where aggressive ambition, gaslighting, emotional abuse, sexual assault, physique horror, and the crushing loneliness of being unsure if her own home is truly hers combine to create an atmosphere of pervasive unease. Unlike Rosemary, a cheerful housewife aspiring to conceive, Terry’s reality is starkly different: she’s single, impoverished, struggling to find employment, and devoid of any support system beyond her empathetic best friend.
The film’s callbacks to its predecessors are nuanced, with some subtle connections evident: Terry’s impulsive brief haircut, the vodka blush cocktails, and a striking silver necklace that lingers in memory. Notably, the brand new film introduces a distinct alteration by intersecting the plots of the two movies – an intriguing twist that skillfully separates Terry’s and Rosemary’s struggles.
While there’s another significant disparity that’s more challenging to pinpoint. Instead, one of the most unsettling aspects of the narrative is its departure from the familiar trope of a pregnant woman gradually uncovering a sinister plot aimed at her. Despite taking up most of its space, Bramford somehow manages to feel like a more extensive area. As the story unfolds, the audience is gradually drawn into a sense of creeping unease, sharing the protagonist’s growing paranoia about the unsettling world around them. The apocalyptic plot appears to have 17 distinct contributors, comprising a diverse range of writers and thinkers from various disciplines. Are we hurtling towards a catastrophic world future that’s increasingly impossible to escape? As the notorious final scene approaches, our worst suspicions are largely vindicated.
feels extra intimate. On Broadway, Terry is better known as the woman who fell, a nickname born from her infamous on-stage stumble, rather than any aspirations of having her identity up in lights. As she succumbs to the allure of a fleeting connection, she becomes “the lady who fell” prey to the notion that complete strangers can be unselfishly kind and generous – only to ruefully acknowledge the crushing cost of reviving her shattered aspirations later on.
Notably, a unique commonality exists between hyperlinks and :, both of which were created by women, setting them apart from the traditional films that originally inspired them. Traditionally, horror films often feature female protagonists subjected to gruesome mistreatment at the hands of male authority figures; conversely, these films introduce a refreshing shift in perspective by reclaiming the familiar trope of women’s bodies being exploited and disfigured in disturbing ways.
available to stream on Paramount+, with a possible digital purchase available starting September 27.
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