The Fearless Vampire Hunters (1967)

Director: Roman Polanski

Cast: Jack MacGowran, Roman Polanski, Sharon Tate, Alfie Bass

Have I Seen it Before: Never. Everyone keeps muttering about it as a good example of the horror chops that Polanski would eventually bring to bear on Rosemary’s Baby (1968) with the absurdist comic instincts turned up. This doesn’t even cover it being the only film featuring Tate directed by her husband before her murder. It remains as a pop cultural curiosity for those reasons alone, and definitely stayed on the radar for me as a potential movie to recommend for Beyond the Cabin in the Woods.

Did I Like It: Not really, no. I’m resolutely of the opinion having now seen the film that it is a pop cultural curiosity not because of its place in Tate or Polanski’s career, but just because it is the one moment of intersection. I’ll admit that Polanski does create a visually interesting style and mood for his vampire comedy, and indeed more so than any other horror comedy of the era outside of Young Frankenstein (1974). The cold Transylvania night depicted here is merciless and frightening, perhaps even more so than a lot of straight horror films.

I think the problem is that for all his skills as a filmmaker (and despite his failings as a person) Polanski isn’t much of a leading man, and even less of a comedic one. He hasn’t done much acting beyond the stray cameo since this film, so I tend to believe that he would agree with me on that assessment.

A weak performance at the center of the film would be difficult to overcome, but I’m not finding hardly anyone else very funny as the film unfurls. Tate had been funny in other films, notably in The Wrecking Crew (1968), but she is an object to be simultaneously worshipped and feared here. The rest of the cast mumbles their way through the assignment, but I couldn’t find a truly comedic performance in the lot. The only time I chuckled was an extended bit in an atrium. If you find yourself watching the film, you’ll know the scene I’m talking about and can be reasonably confident you don’t need to watch much further.

Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

Director: Roman Polanski

Cast: Mia Farrow, John Cassavetes, Ruth Gordon, Sidney Blackmer,

Have I Seen it Before: Yes? I really do want to say that I caught it on some TCM screening over the years, but everything about it aside from the haunting lullaby at the beginning and flashes of the ending had slipped from my memory. Is it possible I had only seen clips? I’d like to think not.

Did I Like It: Nothing like Mia Farrow showing up in a film to make one wonder if I shouldn’t be supporting this kind of thing. The soon-to-be-recorded episode of Beyond the Cabin in the Woods will likely focus at least some of its time on whether it is possible to enjoy art separated from the artist. It may be impossible to ethically completely divorce the art from the artist, but it might be possible to be fascinated by the art.

Honestly, I’m not detecting a lot of Polanski in the film itself. Hell (no pun intended), with William Castle producing, I’m surprised movie theaters in the 60s weren’t rigged to make you think you were having a liaison with the devil while the movie played. Having read Ira Levin’s novel before viewing the film as part of my podcast prep, this is more an act of transcription than adaptation. Aside from the protracted debate in the opening chapters about which apartment the Woodhouse’s would choose*, and just how many siblings Rosemary (Farrow) has and just how estranged she is from them, nearly every word of the original text is here.

Which is great, because when the film isn’t being genuinely terrifying during the final revelation and impregnation scene, it’s a deeply unsettling march through alternating paranoia and true sinister actions that should be detected, if we in fact were aware that we were in a horror story.

I might have a few quibbles with the casting. Farrow is fine, if a little too restrained (it’s both a flaw of the novel and film that it doesn’t earn Rosemary’s acceptance of what has happened to her) for what is going on around her. I also didn’t see Cassavetes as Guy when I was reading. He seemed so restrained in the book, that I honestly started to imagine John Cazale as the character. Book Guy is so aloof, that the leading man quality of Cassavetes feels wrong. Although, to be fair, it’s hard to get any indication that he’s ever been honest with that kind of discordance going on.

*Real estate decisions are, in fact, the least interesting elements of any story. I will not be taking questions at this time.