In 1968, Rosemary’s Baby was released and became one of the most influential horror movies of all time. 56 years later, Apartment 7A tells the story of what happened just as Mia Farrow and John Cassavetes moved into New York’s creepy Bramford building and were entwined in the plans of the resident devil worshippers. Set once again in 1965, it tells the sad tale of Terry Gionoffrio (Julia Garner) and her own involvement with the same cult, up until we meet her in Rosemary’s Baby.
The Rosemary’s Baby prequel comes from director Natalie Erika James, who previously made the critically lauded but divisive Relic, which is a masterclass in dread. That gave Apartment 7A a strong foundation, given Rosemary’s Baby‘s success was all about building claustrophobic dread, but the prequel came with a major challenge. We already know how it ends, because it’s how Rosemary’s Baby begins. So how do you compellingly tell a story that can’t surprise?
In actual fact, that shouldn’t have been a catastrophic hurdle for the belated prequel, because Rosemary’s Baby was never about the plot’s revelations. There’s a sickening inevitability about the original, and it’s only Rosemary’s Baby‘s ending and Rosemary’s choice that really throws things off. And it’s not like we’ve not been in this position countless times thanks to countless prequels: but the question is, does it accomplish its storytelling goals?
Apartment 7A Is Let Down By Its Own Comparisons To Rosemary’s Baby
The Prequel Tries To Be Both New And Old And It’s Not Entirely Successful
Apartment 7A was always going to exist in the long shadow of Rosemary’s Baby, and comparisons are impossible to avoid. That is navigated quite blatantly in the movie itself thanks to the decision to both effectively prequelize and remake the original at the same time. The story is jarringly similar, which feels like an intentional choice to offer commentary on how cyclical the quest for Satan’s heir is. There’s even a nod to the victim before Terry at the start in case you missed the message.
The problem with Apartment 7A though, is that it’s not Rosemary’s Baby, despite apparently setting its stall out very consciously to be a facsimile. Natalie Erika James handles the assignment to ape Roman Polanski’s style very well: the camera moves and the close-up framing of Terry are expert forgeries, and there are enough nods in both style and substance to appreciate how well-studied Apartment 7A is.
So many changes are made that you get the feeling that it’s more of a reimagining of the original that keeps insisting it’s not.
Unfortunately, the movie gets lost in trying to keep up that creative copying that it forgets both its own identity and, confusingly, some of the finer details of Rosemary’s Baby. Surely, if the agenda was to make this seamlessly tie to the original, it would have to end exactly the same way the other film starts? Instead, so many changes are made that you get the feeling that it’s more of a reimagining of the original that keeps insisting it’s not. Who said the Devil was in the detail?
And that’s one of the biggest issues: the fidelity is impressive, even if I would have liked more of Relic‘s dread, but the changes are hugely distracting. We’re presented with the promise that by the end we’ll get to a predetermined point, and to the happy character we saw in the laundry room, but every change becomes more confusing. The only logical conclusion is that these are not the same characters, but that’s not what Apartment 7A says. At this point, it’s probably wise to acknowledge this franchise’s association with gaslighting.
Apartment 7A’s Cast Is Unevenly Balanced, But Garner Is Great
Diane Wiest Comes Out Of The Prequel Well
Part of the fun of a prequel is seeing who will play the new versions of the old favorites. Diane Wiest took on the terrifyingly difficult prospect of replacing Ruth Gordon as Minnie Castevet; Kevin McNally plays Roman Castevet (previously Sidney Blackmer), and Patrick Lyster offers a new take on Ralph Bellamy’s odious Dr. Sapirstein. McNally is fine in himself, but plays Roman too friendly compared to the discomfortingly clipped original, Lyster looks the part but is background detail, and Wiest is very good.
She’s not Ruth Gordon, which would be impossible, but her take on Minnie is a little more sour, and a little less outrageous. Still, if this weren’t a Rosemary’s Baby prequel, and there was nothing to directly compare it to her performance would stand well.
Julia Garner is excellent as Terry. She doesn’t have the same weight of comparison in performance, because Victoria Vetri was in just one scene. I still can’t ignore the fact that her backstory was changed entirely, along with some glaring specifics of the ending, or her completely different demeanor, or the fact said scene doesn’t actually happen here, despite the overlapping timelines, but Garner plays the isolated lead strongly.
She finds something complex and disarming in the darkness of Terry’s desire to be famous at all costs, in flashes of arrogance and aloofness. Not everything simply happens to her. And actually, in that choice, we finally get an answer to why Rosemary does what she does at the end of Rosemary’s Baby. It just comes at the cost of faithfulness of Vetri’s version of the character.
Jim Sturgess’ new character – Alan Marchand – is a weakness. He’s the key to all of Terry’s dreams, as the gatekeeper of her chance of fame, but he feels neither present enough nor disturbing enough to really sell his part in things. Had he been either an ounce more darkly charming, or else repugnant enough to make Terry’s literal deal with the devil more painful, he would have been more memorable.
Apartment 7A’s Story & Subtexts Explore Similar Ground To Rosemary’s Baby
An Important Message Handled Well
In comparison to Rosemary, Terry is consciously less likable, because her motivation is fame, rather than the burning urge to have a child. But there’s an interesting commentary in her character, just as there was significant subtext to Mia Farrow’s character. Both represent oppressed womanhood, but rather than just a loss of agency (which Apartment 7A does work in), there’s also a more blatant parallel between bodily autonomy and abortion rights.
That heavy message works quite well, interwoven into the narrative, rather than standing apart from it glaringly. It’s just a shame the movie holds back just as you feel it’s going to bare its teeth. There’s not the conviction to follow-through that there should be, and the message ends up confused. As with Sturgess’ character, it feels like a set-up that’s never quite delivered on.
The film is also daring enough to explore Terry’s part in her own condition: not in the abuse she suffers, but her willingness to go along with things. Rosemary was robbed of agency and trapped, but Terry feels more free to walk away until she’s not. That might be misread as a misunderstanding of domestic abuse (which this is all an allegory of too), but it’s not.
Terry’s conformity is exhausting, but that’s the point. The camerawork is smartly designed to make the audience’s perception of Terry unbroken. At one point we are her literal dance partner, and there are lingering close-ups that feel like we’re just at the edge of being to shake her and tell her what she’s walking into. Unfortunately, she does have a friend in the movie’s universe who you feel should be doing this, but she’s mostly there as an enabler.
How Apartment 7A Works As A Horror Movie
There Are Creepy Moments But It’s Not Really Enough
It might be almost 60 years old, but Rosemary’s Baby retains a special place for horror fans: while its impact is more unsettling than outright scary, Polanki’s brand of psychological horror burrows under the skin and persists. Apartment 7A, by comparison, is more subtle at times, and occasionally silly at others. One of the supernatural entities shown is a bafflingly on-the-nose allusion to Terry’s hunger for fame, for instance.
The most successfully affecting moments aren’t the slightly-too-modern jump scares, and, particularly, the very modern body horror, that is as unflinchingly painful as fellow dancer movie Black Swan‘s peeled cuticle scene. Had there been a bit more of that, given Apartment 7A’s aspirations to comment on bodily control, the horror promise would have been stronger. As it is, it feels muted.
Again, it feels like Apartment 7A holds back too much in service of being more like Rosemary’s Baby. Had it been more deranged – and not just in its repeated use of musical numbers that feel conspicuously out of place – and more creepy, it could have landed more of a punch. As it stands, the whole thing feels like a slightly wayward, if well-intentioned retread that was created out of the opportunity to answer three very specific mysteries in Rosemary’s Baby, but muddled things too much. It’s certainly passable, and there are things to admire, but this is nothing on the original.
Apartment 7A is set to be released simultaneously on Paramount+ and on digital VOD on September 27.