Bounding Into Halloween Night 8: ‘Inside’ & ‘Rosemary’s Baby’
Tonight’s Halloween movie twofer is dedicated to all the moms out there!
Moms are the only ones who know what it feels like to have a rabid creature tearing its way out of their bodies in an agonizing process that many of us will never fully understand (nor have any desire to), and on the off chance that they’re an absolute terror, also face the separate nightmare of rearing the little monster. There aren’t many things in this world more brutal, or grotesque than that package deal, and it’s more than enough to earn a salute from the shadow realm.
Alright, with that said, it’s time to tuck the children away. Tell them not to read my words, what they mean, or what they say. Pour a large glass of wine, steal that last cupcake from out of the fridge, and get ready for a pair of tales that give a whole new meaning to the idea of primal, perinatal fear.
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À ‘intérieur (Inside) (2007)
Speaking of wine, our first movie is from the country where people use it as a substitute for water! It’s also part of the great New French Extremity movement that started around the turn of the century, the first decade of which would see loads of extreme cinema unleashed upon desensitized horror fans and their dark minds filled with scenes that will never be unseen. It was glorious, it was controversial, and it was completely f—ed!
And so to start tonight, we have one of the best and most disturbing films to come from that movement – and one of the hands-down greatest holiday films ever made.
From 2007, this is Inside.
To start, a poem.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Only a widow with a babe in her womb, and the empty house that was now her tomb. The husband was gone, he had to go afar. Because Matthieu died when she wrecked the car. The babe survived the trauma, save for a bump on the head, but it was now ready to explode of out Sarah, and paint the floor a Yuletide red. She went to bed depressed, and in a rut, but then awoke to a crazy woman stabbing her gut.
Of course, that’s where the yuletide spirits ends, as from there, the night before Christmas really starts for Sarah Scarangella (Alysson Paradis), who finds herself being terrorized by a psychopath only known as ‘The Woman’ (Béatrice Dalle) and her pair of scissors (It’s not the only weapon she employs during her holiday home invasion, but let’s just say that there’s a reason why she brought them).
Of course, there’s more that happens in the film. The bedroom navel poke was only the start, and people come to Sarah’s aid, and I could explain so much more, but you’ll have to see for yourself.
That’s not because I want to avoid giving away spoilers, but because this film makes for a much better experience if you go in completely ignorant (Nobody warned me!). À l’intérieur may be a graphic work of art, but aside from being slightly over-the-top, it’s entirely realistic, and that’s what makes it true horror.
The slay bells are jingling for this one over on TUBI.
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Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
The next tale of maternal macabre takes us back to the ‘Swinging Sixties’ with the 1968 horror masterpiece Rosemary’s Baby by director Roman ‘Cho-Mo’ Polanski.
Aside from being total scumbag (and proof that Hollywood condones that type of behavior), Polanski has directed a few really good movies (The Fearless Vampire Killers, Chinatown, and The Tenant) that present one of the toughest challenges when it comes to separating art from artist.
One must remember that contrary to popular belief, it takes more than just a director to make a great film (and this includes you too, Scorsese!), and Polanski’s film adaptation of Ira Levin’s 1967 novel is a testament to that truth. Unlike a lot of horror films, there’s not only an actual plot here, but also some incredible acting that manages to transcend that plot.
Now, let’s meet the blushing mom to be.
The year is 1965, and Rosemary Woodhouse (as portrayed in an unforgettable performance by Mia Farrow) is looking for a new place with her thespian husband – calling him a ‘tool’ would be generous – Guy (John Cassavetes).
They eventually find a stately ‘Neo-Renaissance’ apartment in Manhattan with the friendliest of tenants who love handing out free deserts to the young couple (the rest of us are lucky if our neighbors are willing to borrow out a measuring cup).
Rosemary and Guy then decide that they want to have a child, and it happens after Guy knocks her up…while she’s drugged, and passed out. It’s a sickening act that the film glosses over in a suspicious way, but keep in mind who’s directing it.
As soon as she tells her rapey husband about the news, he tells their neighbors, whoi then proceed to overstep every boundary known to mankind, including forcing her (with the assistance of Guy) to see their personal doctor, and follow the bizarre, unethical routines he has mapped out for her. And that’s not to mention the creepy chants coming from their apartments every night.
But instead of gaining weight during her pregnancy, Rosemary becomes gaunt, pale, and the people she’s supposed to be trusting are beginning to stare at her with smiles that don’t reach their eyes.
In light of all this strange behavior, only one question arises: What do they have planned for Rosemary, and her baby?
The suspense, and atmosphere is handled so well that it almost feels like Hitchcock came on as a secret guest director. The film has his style all over it.
It’s not about the end result, but the messed up journey getting there. Rosemary’s Baby is the only horror film that doesn’t do a big reveal to the audience at the end, but it didn’t have to, because Farrow’s amazing performance in that scene is more than enough.
56 years later, and this movie still holds up. The cradle rocks for Rosemary’s Baby over on AMC.
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