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

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Review: The Criterion edition of Rosemary’s Baby


Along with Psycho and Night of the Living Dead, Rosemary’s Baby was one of the crucial American horror films of the 1960s. A deeply unsettling and incredibly entertaining film, Roman Polanski’s parental horror is also significant for its attitude about supernatural fear films. It envelops the viewer in sincere terror only to pull back at the last minute to chuckle at all this demonic nonsense from the corner of its fanged maw. Living Dead would become the midnight movie phenomenon in the seventies, but Rosemary’s Baby better established the ironic tone of cult films.

Widely regarded as one of the very best of its genre, Rosemary’s Baby has simply been dying for proper treatment on DVD. Having already produced luxurious discs of Polanski’s Knife in the Water, Repulsion, and Cul-de-sac, Criterion was the natural choice to give Rosemary’s Baby a rebirth. When the company asked Facebook users for suggestions for future releases last year, I voted for Rosemary’s Baby. So naturally, I’m thrilled by Criterion’s new reissue of the film.

Criterion consistently delivers the finest remastering and packaging a film could receive, and Rosemary’s Baby is no different. It sounds and looks pristine while still retaining the earth-toned haze that makes it the perfect late-sixties time capsule. A bonus disc offers a 1997 radio interview with Rosemary’s Baby novelist Ira Levin, a feature-length documentary about jazz artist and soundtrack composer Krzysztof Komeda (featuring Polanski), and most appealing to fans, a 47-minute documentary on the making of the film. New interviews with Polanski, Mia Farrow, and producer Robert Evans carry the doc, which is also interspersed with enticing behind-the-scenes footage of Mia Farrow doing some hippie-ish clowning on set and producer (and thwarted director) William Castle’s cameo. According to Polanski, the original cut of the film was four hours, so it’s too bad deleted scenes weren’t available for this release. But my only real gripe is that the discs do not come out of the case easily. Every time I pulled one out, I was shocked I didn’t snap it in half! That would have been a terrible shame considering how fine these disc are.


Sunday, July 25, 2010

September 2, 2009: The Lost World: Roman Polanski’s 3-D Horror Movie

Developing a movie project is such a convoluted process that it’s amazing any films ever get made at all. There are the budgetary problems, and the casting difficulties, and the conflicts between directors and producers that have caused more than a few projects to be aborted before reaching term. In this on-going series I’ve dubbed “The Lost World”, I’ll be looking at some of these sweet abortions.

Roman Polanski’s 3-D Horror Movie


“Polanski has said that his filmmaking ideal has always been to involve audiences so deeply that they see that their visual experience approximates living reality.”

-Professor Richard L. Gregory

Say what you will about his infamously unsavory personal behavior, there’s no question that Roman Polanski was one of the greatest horror filmmakers of the ‘60s and ‘70s. His first excursion into the genre was Repulsion (1965), a psychological nightmare in which virginal Carol Ledoux’s (Catherine Deneuve) terror of sex explodes into murderous fits. The film had much in common with Hitchcock’s Psycho and Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (both 1960) as its goal was to cause the viewer to empathize with the killer rather than the victims. This spin would be integral to the slasher films that proliferated drive-ins during the ‘70s, but those films handled it more crudely than these works by Hitchcock, Powell, and Polanski.

Polanski achieves this empathy in Repulsion by focusing intensely on the killer’s personal life and with his use of short focal lenses, which allow the camera to get incredibly close to its subject, while creating a distorted, fish-eye image. The result makes the viewer feel as though she/he is huddled right on top of Carol. Still, Polanski yearned to ratchet up the horror much more than such lenses allowed, especially after he’d experienced his own personal horror on August 9, 1969. That of course was the date that Charles Manson’s “family” of psychopaths brutally murdered Polanski’s wife, Sharon Tate, and their unborn child. Polanski was emotionally ravaged by the incident. This is evident in the self-destructiveness and nihilism he exhibited throughout the subsequent decade, which culminated in his rape of a 13-year old girl in 1977. It’s also evident in the films he made, especially his excellent, extremely violent adaptation of MacBeth (1971), in which he graphically depicts the murder of Lady MacDuff and her family—an obvious mirror of his own wife’s murder.

Polanski’s madness not only found him recreating one of the most traumatic experiences of his life (I say “one of”, because he also lived through the Holocaust, in which his mother was killed), but also had him scheming (perhaps sadistically) to devise ways to force the audience to experience horror in a more intimate and intense way than they ever had before. Fascinatingly, the method he chose to employ was 3-D, a film technique generally used in exploitative, gimmicky ways.

Roman Polanski’s ride toward creating a 3-D horror film began with his discovery of Eye and Brain (1966) by British psychologist Richard L. Gregory. The book explains how the human eye perceives “brightness, movement, color, and objects,” and how such elements impact the psyche. According to Gregory, Polanski started toting around the book as his personal Bible. He sought out the psychologist, and recruited him to drive around London in search of 3-D projection facilities. Polanski’s mission was to find a 3-D-system that utilized a single projector rather than the standard dual-projector, which transmitted two images simultaneously, creating the depth illusion when viewed with those groovy red/blue polarized glasses.



Polanski wanted to find a single projector system because the vast majority of theaters were only equipped with single projectors, thus allowing wider distribution for his film, and because of the difficulties of synching up dual projectors. If improperly calibrated, 3-D projectors created bad, blurry images, a problem that plagued showings of earlier 3-D films like The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954).

Unfortunately, the project only got as far as the planning stages because Polanski couldn’t stir up industry interest in the project. There is no account of a script or even an outline of the story. Polanski only made one horror film in the ‘70s, The Tenant (1976), but there is no evidence that this was the film he planned to shoot in 3-D. Gregory said that he and the filmmaker made a series of tests in the early ‘70s with the intention of filming an erotic 3-D picture, but this provocative concept never came to fruition either. With today’s superior 3-D technology (if you haven’t seen it and can still find it in a theater somewhere, please, please, please check out the animated film Coraline to discover how brilliantly effective the technique has become), it would be pretty fascinating to see Polanski finally bring his 3-D horror vision to the screen. Until then, it will continue to reside in the Lost World.

July 16, 2009: Psychobabble recommends the new Criterion edition of Repulsion

At the time it was released, Roman Polanski’s Repulsion (1965) was arguably the subtlest, most mature, most artistic, and most genuinely disturbing horror film yet made. Think of it as a gender flip of Hitchcock’s Psycho or Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom: an attractive young person’s unhealthy attitude about sex fuels some seriously anti-social behavior. Catherine Deneuve plays Carol Ledoux, an uptight French ex-patriot living in Swinging London with her sexually liberated sister Hélène (Yvonne Furneaux). When Hélène takes a weekend trip with her lover, Carole is left in their creepy flat to stew in her own delusions, which gradually boil over into some genuinely shocking acts of violence. There’s a marvelously jazzy score by Chico Hamilton, stark black and white cinematography by Gilbert Taylor (whom Polanski hired after seeing his work on Dr. Strangelove), some terrifying hallucinations, an ambiguous but absolutely unnerving denouement, and a skinned bunny.
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