Go Along, Rosemary

May Blog *Spoilers for the movie Rosemary's Baby

The phrase, go along. It’s something I use in my own writing. Go along—things will be easier. It is a subtle form of manipulation. Rosemary, the poor gal, has been gaslighted for the entire story. And even though the baby is Satan reborn to an earthly vessel—a human woman—still she gives in.

From the get-go, Rosemary is managed. Sure, she uses her girlish charm to get Guy to move into the Bramford. She even initiates the lovemaking when they move in. But the rest, after the couple meets their seemingly harmless neighbors, it all goes downhill. Guy plans baby making night and then he drugs her with Minnie’s chocolate mouse. The switch is made. Satan comes up from the bowels of hell to impregnate our Rosemary, surrounded by a circle of nude elders.

The next morning, Rosemary thinks it was a dream till she sees the scratch marks on her back. Guy responds that he will cut his nails but didn’t want to miss baby night. Rape. It’s called rape. And he laughs it off. A man drugging his wife for sex. My God, how history is repeating itself. Fiction, reality. What world are we living in?

The movie goes along, Rosemary marking the expected date of the baby’s arrival on the kitchen calendar. Minnie concocting special shakes for her with tannis root. Good ole Dr. Sapirstein says they’re better than prenatal vitamins. Everybody is in on the gag.

And she never balks. Until she is able to talk to her girlfriends, or the bitches as Guy refers to them. Then, she wants the vitamins, no more shakes, and a new doctor. And the pain. My God the pain she’s in. That finally stops. Her mental wheels are turning. She thinks she’s figured it out.

All of them witches.

It’s her body. She’s attached to the baby. She’s a mother. She wants to protect the child. Even when they tell her it died, (After the grand scene of all the men turning on her. She’s hysterical after all. Men are big and smart.) Rosemary arms herself with a kitchen knife and goes to find her baby. Then, she sees it. It’s eyes! It’s hands! It’s feet!

“He has his father’s eyes.”

“Hail Satan!”

“Be a real mother to Adrian. Be a mother to your baby. Think about it, Rosemary.”

“Rosemary’s his mother. Show some respect.”

Guy comes in with his comforting words. Jackass.

Then, the baby cries. That’s what it takes. To hear the cry, creature or not, Rosemary is called.

“Rock him.”

“You’re trying to get me to be his mother.”

“Aren’t you his mother?”

The final tableau, mother and child. She tends to him. She cares for him. Rosemary accepts her role.

Now, I haven’t’ read or seen Son of Rosemary. I don’t know what their future holds as mother and son. I’m curious though. Mostly, I wonder how Adrian goes about in society with strange eyes, hands, and feet! 

What would you do if you gave birth to a demon? Can you love your child at any cost? What about mothers of serial killers? To be a mother … the bond is strong. To protect. To nurture. To love. “Hail Satan and Happy Mother’s Day.”