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Released 1977 Directed by Jindřich Polák Starring Petr Kostka Comical Science Fiction genre Synopsis found here

Myskool

I like time-travel. ANY movie gets better with time travel, that is Myskool's first law of cinema. No one's going to argue that Pearl Harbour would not have been a better film if somewhere in the third act, the Americans and Japanese had to unite to fight some high-tech aliens that -GASP- turn out to be HUMANS, just like Soylent Green. Now, my probably disrespectful allusion to the changes to Michael Bay's unforgettable (for all the wrong reasons) film have brought up a second law of cinema that has been past down in my family for generations (...well, one at least); Nazis make the most compelling villains in any movie. I have yet to find an exclusion to this rule and though it has become a cliche, it still rings true. Pop on The Rocketeer and you forget it's a low rent Indiana Jones.

Following The Rules
I just remembered what I was supposed to be writing about, a film that yet again proves my two cinematic rules; Tomorrow I Will Wake Up and Scald Myself with Tea which is such a wonderful title that I refuse to turn it into an acronym. Within the first 2 minutes it is evident that both of these rules will be put on display magnificently. Time Travelling Nazis? Taking anti-aging pills in a very 70s looking 90s? Well, I know I'm in.

 The plot follows one of two twins as he pretends to be the other twin, that unbeknownst to the first twin is complicit in the Nazis time travelling scheme. You see the first twin believes the second twin to live a James Bond style life of luxury and adventure. When in actuality he's a scum bag whose got many affairs going and travels back in time daily for his job. A pilot for a commercial time travelling company which, I'm just sayin' seems like a sort of reckless, casual use of something that could majorly effect the lives of people, especially because it seems seriously understaffed by security.

That doesn't work like that... WHO WROTE THIS??!!

I usually am that jerk that gets annoyed when people point out illogical plot points in fantasy/science fiction movies. The amount of times I've stood up for the end of Superman when he apparently spins the world backwards so it goes back in time so as to save Louis is innumerable. Which as an aside and for the sake of the people who don't already know, is not what happens. Superman actually spins around the earth so quickly that he himself actually travels back in time, I'm not saying that that makes anymore sense, but people get pretty defensive about it. But my point is, when you're watching a movie where a man is wearing red underpants on top of his blue tights, shooting fire from his eyes and flying around with a lady who is internally monologuing some weird shit, why is it such a leap of faith to accept he did something else so unreal. 

The reason I mention this though is that I believe movies should follow the rules that they set (in addition to those two rules I stated in my introduction). For instance when Biff goes back in time to give Young Biff the sports almanac in Back to the Future II he can't go back to the 2015 that he left from because he has created a new timeline altogether. Which, GREAT SCOTT, Doc Brown tells us not 30 minutes after we watch it happen. The same shit happens in this movie where the main character essentially says, after returning from the past, that they have to avoid their past selves (a trope typical in this sort of movie) but later when they come back a second time there should technically be two of him already in attendance but one of them appears to have completely vanished. Maybe I was confused but I think I've got this right, it shouldn't matter but it does bug me. I think that if I were writing a time travel movie I'd make it real tight so that the only conceit is that time travel does in fact exist. Though this shouldn't matter too much as this is a comedic film and so I guess logic has to be put aside for jokes occasionally.

This isn't something that annoyed me but definitely made me inquisitive but why did the time machine have to go into space to work and then land back on the Earth in the past? Someone tell me that one.

The CHF Factor

One thing I feel I haven't addressed explicitly enough is the hilarity of particular moments in this film, if you plan to watch it I especially reccommend watching out for the Chicago couple that get sent back in time on the same commercial vessel as the Nazis and are really enjoying the holiday, making mundane comments and asking to have their photo taken with Hitler. Yes, Shirley and Patrick are the heart and soul of this film.

Furthermore, Tomorrow I'll Wake Up and Scald Myself with Tea is host to one of the finest Cinematic Hitler Freak-outs (CHFs). On the standard scale of CHF, this film's would fit somewhere between Downfall and Inglourious Basterds. It'd probably be equaled to the moment in The Great Dictator when the führer addresses 'the Jewish people' (not the heartwarming speech that everyone remembers at the end, the hilarious one posted below... for posterity).

Meshell

Honestly, I didn't think I could enjoy a film within the genre of comical science fiction - especially one with subtitles - as much as this. This is a Czech time travel romp with it all; Nazis, funk music, space suits, 70's technology and the words 'hydrogen bomb' spoken in Czech. There is nothing funnier that the words 'hydrogen bomb' spoken in Czech. 'Hail Hitler' by a Czech-speaking parrot comes in as a close second. Just watch the intro (below):

Love me some funk, backwards goose-stepping and whatnot.

Lindsay Lohan, Doctor Who and I don't even know who is dead or alive or both

Tomorrow I'll Wake Up and Scald Myself with Tea has one actor playing twins. That's right, it's The fucking Parent Trap well and truly before LiLo's time. At times, it even becomes almost difficult to differentiate between the films. There's matchmaking aplenty, however no ears were pierced or estranged parents of identical twins reunited. Let's just say this is The Parent Trap of European film, so naturally as is always the case in European film, in the absence of nudity there is so much death. Too much death. Too much, very confusing death.

If I've got it right, one twin dies three times, the other twice. One guy is killed by his past self (is this murder or suicide?), another his future self (again, murder or suicide?) and from there I get a little lost. People appear in scenes following the ones in which they've just died in harrowing trampoline rooftop tragedies.

On the topic of death in Tomorrow I'll Wake Up and Scald Myself with Tea, it seems to raise a myriad of time travel questions. I'm no expert, but this film seems to take a leaf out of Doctor Who in David Tennant's time in the way it is 'wibbly wobbly timey wimey.' What I mean is the laws of time travel are relevant as much as they're ignored for the sake of the plot.

'My brother died this morning. He choked on a roll.'

The above quote appears in the film over and over. The actual scene in which Twin 2 chokes on a roll and dies is revisited again and again, all with different outcomes and all beginning with Twin 1 scalding himself with tea. They are all threaded together with a thread from the same cotton spool of what the actual fuck. Always accompanied by inappropriate funk music, sometimes with the liberties of the 70's ideal of future technology, namely a dish soap that acts much like caustic soda times a million. 

I found myself just as confused about the characters' motivations as the many deaths. There are multiple switcheroos (briefcases, identities, love interests) that are hard enough to follow without the multiple timelines. But honestly, who cares. If time travel by Nazis to equip Hitler with a hydrogen bomb is foiled by an identity switch (or several) then I'm all for saving the world with a bit of time trickery (or is it fuckery?).

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, however this freeze frame at the end of the film can be summed up in one; konec (Czech for the end) or two... fuck yeah!

Released 1991 Directed by Gary Trousdale & Kirk Wise Starring Paige O'Hara Animation, Family, Fantasy Genres Synopsis found here

Meshell

My childhood weekends were more often than not the crackle of a well-loved VHS Disney. I seemingly endlessly cycled between The Little Mermaid, Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast, cup of red cordial in one hand, nibbled apple slices in the other. Watching again as an adult had my stomach in the knots and butterflies of nostalgia. Bitter sweet.

Read the various versions of the story of Bluebeard here.

Bluebeard, blue dress, blue scenery

I'm not sure if it's just me but blue is truly the colour of Beauty and the Beast. 

The characters' garb is more often than not blue. Our princess, Belle, is clad in a blue dress (when she's not in her deliciously sunny yellow ball gown) and Beast is never seen without his dashing royal blue regimentals. Most scenes are predominantly washed with blue; the gorgeous balcony scene under the stars is 95% blue, Belle's beautiful library is Tiffany's box blue, and Beast's castle... well you know what colour that is.

To me, this is clearly connected to Bluebeard. After all, elements of Beauty and the Beast's storyline smacked of the old tale in which the wife (sometimes wives, depends on whose version) of Bluebeard (who is varying degrees of beastly, again wholly reliant on whose version) is forbidden from entering a particular room of Bluebeard's castle. If you're wondering how I've drawn such a flimsy connection (other than the colour blue), think to Beast's words to Belle;

'You can go anywhere, so long as you don't go to the west wing.'

Which Disney princess are you?

Remember the Facebook quiz craze or 2008 that saw your feed clogged with such quiz results as 'What colour are you?', 'What cocktail best represents your personality?' and 'Which Disney princess are you most like?' I do. 

Well, I am almost certain I would have been Belle. Here is why:

a.) I like books more than people.

b.) I am sick of this provencal town.

c.) I am an adult educator by trade. I relate to the scene in the extended version where she assists Beast in reading Romeo & Juliet, as the people I teach to read are mostly beastly in appearance and almost always smell.

Animate inanimate objects

With each watch, my devastation and disappointment in my beloved Beast, candelabra, clock, teacup and teapot turning into people grows.

How hum-drum and unremarkable it is to be a human prince, footman, butler, maid or child. Especially as a follow-up to them singing 'Be My Guest' which involved a visual feast of singing and dancing crockery, and cutlery gracefully synchronised swimming in a crystal bowl of frothy, pink punch.

What would you rather, a subplot romance between a sexy feather duster lady and a French candelabra (with flame continuity issues frame-to-frame) or two boring people who flirt but aren't the main focus of the film?

Myskool

The renaissance 

I'm going to bore you all with a history lesson: Disney was in a state during the eighties. Several factors led to this rut over the years, not the least of which involved the death of Walt Disney in 1966 (just missing out on the summer of love) and the death of his brother and successor as president of the studio in 1971. With no disrespect to their successors, they were largely businessmen. This is were a string of underachieving films came from, from Robin Hood to The Rescuers to The Black Cauldron (a notable curveball from a company that was starting to become formulaic) to the, fondly remembered but in my opinion rather poor, Fox and the Hound. Then there is Oliver and Company, which I'm embarrassed to admit that despite my animation fandom I have never seen. Though I've heard songs from it and have seen clips and have not come away feeling overly impressed. It wasn't until Disney's next animated feature that what was known as the Disney Renaissance truly began.

The Little Mermaid was and remains today an amazing movie. Everything from the underwater animation (now perfected, see: Disney's struggles and accomplishments years before with Pinnochio), to the characterisations, but mainly, the songs. This is where things get incredibly biased so precede with caution. More than any other factor, I believe that the addition of Alan Menken and Howard Ashman to the Disney payroll made the renaissance such a success. They changed the format of a Disney movie from something like, The Lady and the Tramp, which is more of a straight story told with some Tin Pan Alley style songs (I love the Sherman Brothers, don't get me wrong) to something more closely resembling a broadway musical. With drama melodrama to spare, a true musical structure and wonderful emotive performances. I'm biased because of my childhood love of Little Shop of Horrors which was written by the two of them together (and I have often likened Shop's 'Somewhere that's Green' as a doppelgänger to Little Mermaid's show-stopper 'Part of Your World). The movie opened to phenomenal success and paved the way for a whole feast of new films over the next decade. Why, it almost sounds like a fairy tale. 

Isn't he fabulous?

He uses antlers in all of his decorating

Geez, that intro was really dry. I get really passionate about this period of Disney, largely because it's a huge part of my nostalgia muscle but also because they stand up as great films. My dad revealed to me that when he got really depressed he used to watch Beauty and the Beast to cheer him up. I, even with my terrible memory, shot back to the numerous times I walked past the 'adult' lounge-room to hear faint cries of 'be our guest...' coming from the television. This is something I naturally came to do as an adult, before he informed me of that he did it. So many times while I was studying did I wake up in the middle of the night needing to feel a bit warmer and I would put on Beauty and the Beast and I would always feel better. I like to stress though that many people try and accuse Disney of being overly positive and unrealistic (which I would first argue is the point of escapism) but from where I am standing (... or sitting) they are wrong.

The villain of this film is Gaston, surely one of the most reprehensible beings I've ever seen on film. It's a strange thing, a character like Scar from The Lion King or Ursula from The Little Mermaid I can understand completely, their motivations are power. Everyone to some degree desires power but Gaston's motivations are pure delusional arrogance and... well, kinda rapey. He is truly scary, the idea that someone would want to be married to someone else based purely on their looks is confusing to me. I suppose there isn't anything inherently wrong with it, though it's not what I'd encourage people to do. Though what I would encourage people to do is if that person is not interested, either give give up or try to find something about them. Gaston just wants Belle as a possession and though I understand that's the point, he is so oblivious to the fact that she has zero interest in him that it gets really creepy. Plus I don't like blue eyes, and both he and the beast have them. So, the great trick in this movie is making a villain so obviously ugly to counter the perceived ugliness of Beast. So much so to the point that when he dies, we genuinely don't care at all. I think Disney could have gotten away with the beast rip out his entrails really slowly and stamp on them with his hind legs... all in a long one shot, like a Bergman movie.  

Howard Ashman on the set of Little Shop of Horrors

Flowers, chocolates, promises you don't intend to keep...

Of course, Beauty and the Beast will go down in history as the only animated film to get nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Some people will tell you that Up also received this honour and that is true though it was after they extended the nominations to ten films instead of the original five. Beauty lost to Silence of the Lambs (another excellent film) and although I think people would not be surprised to find it did not win, I think you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn't think it deserved to be in there. 

Perhaps, the most tragic thing about the movie is not anything in the story, but what happened to Howard Ashman shortly afterward. Ashman had contracted AIDS and had suffered through the finishing stages of making the film and died four days after advance screenings to press and public. He lived just long enough to hear how well the film was received. Ashman posthumously won the Academy Award for best song which was accepted by Menken and Bill Lauch (his partner). The studio's next film, Aladdin, featured songs written by Alan Menken and Howard Ashman but also Tim Rice who completed the rest of the lyrics. Though Ashman died, he left two phenomenally crafted Disney films as part of his legacy and one of my other favourite movies of all time, I thank him for everything he did and hope that the next one of these I write won't be so somber.

Released 1985 Directed by John Hughes Starring Molly Ringwald & Emillio Estevez Comedy/Drama Genre Synopsis found here.

Myskool

Johnny and the Archetypes

This movie came out before I was born, when conservatives ruled America, after Fast Times at Ridgemont High and John Hughes' other great high-school dramedy (do people still say that?), Sixteen Candles. All considered though, it feels as though with this film he constructed and perfected the perfect teen archetypes. The truth though, is that no character here is one note enough to be defined simply by their title, as many parody films would later claim, all are well-rounded and flawed beings. 

When a high school comedy opens with a quote from David Bowie displayed on a simple white-on-black card being shattered to a shot of a school, you don't go in thinking that the story will be revelatory. The film recalls Reservoir Dogs... except for the cussin', shootin' and bleedin' to death, plus *spoiler alert* everyone gets to keep their ears. No, I'm reminded of Quentin's first movie purely because the whole film is about events we never get to see. All the drama is portrayed through story telling, literally.

Ch- Ch- Ch- Changes

Realising that you're an adult

I felt the pangs of old age in the first ten minutes of The Breakfast Club, trying to avoid the fact that Bender was being a complete dickhead to Vernon. Sure, that's the point but if a kid talked to me that way, I'd be furious too. For a good while I sympathised... nay, related to Vernon. That all went by the wayside when he started threatening a teenager physically, I sorta draw the line there. 

I find it refreshing to view a comedy aimed at teenagers that has a heart and characters that are fully rounded. Each person has a backstory, problems, quirks and there own little way of seeking others' attention. Allison is a lying kleptomaniac that simultaneously wants to be noticed and invisible. Brian is an overachieving, wanna-be-cool-but-just-so-gosh-darn-dorky guy that is contemplating suicide - does it matter that he only has access to a flare gun? Andy is a 'sporto' and dealing with his own pressure. His dad living through him, encouraging his son to act like he did at that age which is paradoxical to Andy's nature. Bender is nothing if not honest, you've gotta admire him even if you find him repulsive. He's, at times, vile and funny but also shockingly earnest. Then there is Claire, who really does stand out as the least interesting. Always done right, always got what she wanted... just needs to be let out to fly. What surprises me most though is the way in which Vernon is handled; not just a villain whose sole purpose is to get one up on the kids, like Rooney in Ferris Beuller, but as someone who is let down and feels rejected by his students.

Fist in the air, like you just don't care

I'm a sucker for heartstring moments and Hughes' cleverly puts all of these in the last third of the film. Sucking you in with all the upfront humour then whacking you over the head with all these adolescent problems. The whole 'sitting in a circle and confessing things' scene was pure magic for me. It just felt real (as opposed to the extreme amount of dancing that Sheen Junior does after smoking pot) and as each person reveals their own problem, you not only remember what it was like to be that age but that you probably didn't give anyone elses' problems a second thought and that sort of bugged me and endeared me all at once. 

But for some reason the most poignant thing for me was when Brian was trying to argue that trigonometry was more important than making lamps in shop class. Explaining that without mathematics there would be no engineering. To which Bender replies 'without lamps we'd have no light'. 

Meshell

The Breakfast Club is quaint and endearing, not dissimilar to Hughes' other works. The man was on a winning formula, I can see why he didn't want to deviate from the coming-of-age teen drama starring Molly Ringwald. But it is in this that I find his films enjoyable; they're familiar, comfortable and deliver a bizarre nostalgia for a time period I wasn't even alive in.

The Breakfast Club is tale of unlikely friendships forming at Saturday detention (is this even a thing?) with plenty of discussions about virginity (by a group of characters I am 100% positive were all virgins despite a few of their claims of meeting a Canadian at Niagra Falls and totally doing it) and some terrible costume choices. Seriously, who made the decision to put the badass in plaid, denim, bandannas and to top it all off with a pair of leather/fishnet fingerless gloves? So effortlessly cool.

Each detention-goer is given the punishment of writing an essay on who they think they are. Of course, this leads to the characters being given clear-cut archetypes.

Pigeon-hole some 80's teens with some terrible dialogue

The Criminal, in his hilarious badass garb (a true badass would never ever attend detention on a Saturday at 7:06 am), comes out with some golden quotes:

'Bein' bad feels pretty good.' Totes.

'NO DAD, WHAT ABOUT YOU? DOOSH!' To portray terrible home life all badasses grow from like toadstools.

'Eat my shorts.' I forgive this one as it pre-dates Bart Simpson.

The Brain tickled me with this tale:

'My cousin got high once and started eating weird foods like baloney and stuff. It was all Twilight Zone.' Best. Quote of the film.

The Basketcase was for majority of the film - until she put on some lipstick and a headband - the most bearable character in her silence:

'I'm not really a nymphomaniac, I'm a pathological liar.' 

The Princess was such a dull character to me. Yawn:

'I am so popular. Everyone loves me at this school.' 

The Jock with a heart was semi-interesting:

'I taped his buns together... you know him? So you'd know he's pretty hairy.' 

What to do when your plot stalls

CUT SCENE MONTAGE!

a.) Try to create humour in an actionless scene; have the Criminal light the dogshit on his shoe to light the cigarette in his mouth (in a school library!), the Brain itch his crotch, the Princess look pretty, the Jock do something pointless and meat-head-ish and the Basket Case draw an intricate scene on which she can snow her dandruff.

b.) Whistle an annoying tune.

c.) Run around maze-like hallways, a standard cartoon gag.

d.) Smoke marijuana then get all energetic gymnast all over dat school library. Seriously, this part had me worried I'm abnormal for choosing to eat an entire family ready made lasagne and whittle away the hours on Tumblr rather than sommersault when I'm high. Just me?

e.) Things get a little awkward after some D&Ms that turn a little heated? DANCE! And don't forget a true John Hughes montage just wouldn't be right without some 80's pop with a male vocalist. Don't forget that. Don't Don't Don't Don't.

Everyone loves a happy ending, even four

So basically in the end everyone smooches their one true love; the Criminal and the Princess, the Basket Case and the Jock - and my favourite - the Brain and his essay. And no one even ate breakfast.

Released 1977 Directed by David Lynch Starring John Nance Fantasy/Horror Genre Synopsis found here

Meshell

Where does one start with Lynch?

Eraserhead is nothing short of sinister. Set in a Chernobyl-esque, gritty industrial scene, Henry (John Nance) is to me an ominous parallel of Charlie Chapman. His distinctively high, fluffy hair (full of secrets?) and pen protector are to him what Charlie's bowler hat and cane. In his movement, Nance delivers a rigid, slapstick performance. He ambles over the industrial wasteland, shoulders curved, feet finding their way into muddy puddles and the like. 

The interaction between characters is perplexing at best. Long, awkward silences are punctuated with bizarre discourse and inappropriate reactions; my favourite being when Mary's mother is questioning Henry on whether or not he had sexual intercourse with her daughter. Henry, pathetically withdraws himself into the corner as Mary's mother nuzzles at his neck.

The true question is, is Eraserhead a heartbreaking work of genius or pure fuckery?

The sound of silence & perfect mismatching

Sound is an extremely important element to the film. It makes the mundane of the film surreal and sheds light on the old hock, 'silence is deafening'. The slow pace, the silence, the jarring drone that seamlessly transitions from insect-like (locusts, scuttling cockroaches) to the hissing radiator, ticking clock, the scrape and scratch of metal on metal, and so on. All the noise represents the lack of noise.

The houses in which Lynch's odd characters share the mundane meets surreal in the sense they are what I imagined Motel rooms decorated in the 50's looked like in the 70's. Practical, functional meets outdated, mismatching and worn to a thread. However, Lynch injects the right measure of 'Lynchian' with particular addition, such as a milky puddle in the centre of a bed for the unfaithful Henry and his neighbour. 

After all, who else could put a mud-pie atop a doily on a night stand, and for it to be the least questionable item in the film? Hats off to the kookiest director in a starched shirt, buttoned to the throat.

The good, the bad and the grotesque

I adore the Lady in the Radiator (I grew up listening to the Pixies' version of 'In Heaven, Everything is Fine').

I found the tiny chicken hilarious.

Same as Mary's mother's reaction. And Mary's coiffed fringe.

But just couldn't move past the grotesqueness of the 'baby'.

No one really knows how Lynch achieved this thing. I understand Lynch's desire to retain an air of mystery, but seriously. I would keep tight-lipped about a fucking mechanically animated horse-foetus-like thing. Precautionary tale of the dangers of premarital sex? Mehbeh.

Myskool

The Aural Industrial
You know you've made it as a filmmaker when you get your own adjective. Lynchian, that is, something that calls to mind or emulates the work of David Lynch, is not used as much as something like Burton-esque but that's probably simply because no one attempts to make anything as batshit insane as Eraserhead.

Eraserhead has been endearing to me since long before I ever saw it. I recall seeing the poster (featuring the image at the top of this post wherein Henry is spotlighted in a cloud of his own... I want to say 'head dust') in a magazine, probably when I was around 12. That was also the age where I first watched Clockwork Orange and Rocky Horror so I don't think my head would have exploded if I saw it. Although, I do believe it would have been right up my alley.

David Lynch starts here with this phenomenal first film. For me the windy pipes, cemented buildings, crumbled ruins, smokestacks and indistinct machinery are the perfect backdrop to this story. The focus on old industry, the fifties-esque conservatism and costume design and the jazz-influenced musique concrete soundtrack make the film timeless in the truest sense of the word. Though 'when is this happening?' is probably the last question on most people's minds. 

[....] another might be "WTF?"

People and machines live harmoniously

I feel connected to this movie, and not just because Meshell reminded me that I looked like Henry every five minutes, the portrayals of the characters, though stylised, feel very real. The overzealousness of Bill, Mary's father, turning to brimstone about the lack of appreciation for plumbers. The naivete of Mary and her change from innocent girl to sullen, embittered mother. The confusion on Henry's face as he stares at a litter of dogs sucking at their mothers teats. 

Nothing can be relied upon in this world. Henry, supposedly fresh from buying groceries, steps in a puddle of mud unsuspectingly. Henry seems surprised at the lack of mail. The elevator takes an uncharacteristically long time to close. There is a message from Mary who he has not spoken to in some time. On and on and on, until Henry is taking scissors to the giblets of his progeny. It's a wild and unexpected ride, but a feast for the senses. Meshell has pretty heavily covered the soundscape but I really want to mention how alive the world feels for such an empty wasteland; everything is smoking, bubbling, splintering or shining. The static shots don't even feel still, there is always noise informing you of other goings on. Even the music feels like effects, there is a great moment when Henry leaves his house and is walking to Mary's. What sounds like car honking begins in the background but gradually becomes part of the chord organ score. 

I recommend Eraserhead to anyone who enjoys:

• Beautiful black and white cinematography.
• Creative use of sound and music.
• People who have little men controlling their nervous system with pulleys that force their mouths to open and spit out visual representations of spermatozoon.

Released 1968 Directed by Roman Polanski Starring Mia Farrow Horror/Drama Genre Synopsis found here.

Myskool
Myskool's time at university can be divided into three disparate and distinct timeframes:

Timeframe 1: Wherein he smoked cigars immediately after watching free movies.
Timeframe 2: Wherein he realised he didn't have to actually attend classes to pass.
Timeframe 3: Wherein he proclaimed "all of them witches" loudly and with vitriol at any who vexed him.

But now, apparently firmly rooted in Timeframe 4 (wherein he speaks of himself in the third person), Myskool watches Rosemary's Baby for what feels to be the twentieth time. Eyes affixed to the screen as if it was his first.
That's right, I proclaim (abandoning my third person shenanigans), I am a fan of this film already. Rarely have I viewed a film so compelling and hypnotic that simultaneously makes me want to continue watching as much as it makes me want to suspiciously peek into my neighbour's lounge-rooms for traces of both Satanism and chalky 'mouse'.

The Unexpected
I can't take my mind off of the notion of being some 60's pensioner looking for an exciting trip into the romantic lives of a lovely, young New York City couple. Hearing Rosemary's Baby and seeing the lovely Mia Farrow plastered everywhere is whetting this adorable senior's appetite for a delightful experience. She finds a seat somewhere near the middle, but not the exact middle and is further excited by the opening credit sequence. 

Everything, from the exciting landscape, to the typeface and the pink, would do little to quell her expectations. Alright, there is some ominous music, but not overtly so. Maybe this is just an assumption but I can't help but think that people wouldn't have known what they were in for at the time. This happens even today, I remember going to see Sweeny Todd when it came out and watched about 16 teenaged boys walk out when they realised it was a musical. Wow, what a tangent.

The Music, Repetitious, Slightly Annoying and Utterly Effective 

Just when something new and surprising occurs (and you're expected a change in theme to mark the moment) suddenly as if it never went away Für Elise plays. It's as if the budget allowed for the one track and between this and the opening song it all feels a bit otherworldly. This arrangement of Für Elise is different though, creepy and spindly, it reverberates long after each note ends but concurrently feels sharp and staccato... I know, I know, I'm the oxymoron king. But it is, ultimately, extremely effective in its indeterminate emotions. Für Elise could quite easily be anyone's theme, Rosemary's, Minnie's, Guy's or Hutch's. It could and does score, lots of the most important moments.

Because you are exposed so frequently to Für Elise whenever you get anything different it really stands out. The most dramatic sting occurs with the reveal of the Anagram from the 'All of them Witches' book and when this occurs it feels simply spine-tingling because the score earned that moment through restraint and pacing.

The Absurd

As a warning to those haven't seen this, let it be known, there are next to no sympathetic characters. I count three; Rosemary, Hutch and Terry (the lady who is living with the Castavets when Rosemary moves in). That's it, though I am open to corrections.


That being said I think this film deals with its lack of heavenly creatures with great aplomb, granting us with some magnificent humour. Though the laughs come more rarely than often and more Samuel Beckett than Jerry Lewis. Some people might be hard-pressed to find it but its there and look no further than the final scene for out and out wildness that actually works and is hilarious and terrifying at the same time.

I find this movie damn entertaining. Damned entertaining? Maybe, but I have never heard of much of a Christian backlash. Though I would definitely not be shocked.

It is a measured and methodical study of a truly terrifying thriller that can be taken in two ways; if you don't like the supernatural elements, you can choose to view the movie as if everything Rosemary encounters is meticulously controlled by a group of wrinkly chanters, you can write off other moments and coincidences. It is never overwhelmingly one-sided in how you interpret it. You only have to look at Donner's The Omen (some would argue, the little brother of this film) made some 10 years later to see how perfectly Polanski managed this tale. Don't get me wrong though I love The Omen but, for me, it isn't all for you, Damien. Actually, there is only one thing to say...

"Hail Satan"

Meshell

Feminism

Rosemary's Baby awoke within me the feminism I'd quashed down to my pinkie toe post-uni. Here's why:

a.) Rosemary is drugged and raped by her husband, BUT IT'S OKAY. 
b.) Rosemary - a grown woman - is repeatedly treated and chided like a child, BUT IT'S OKAY.
c.) Rosemary's body is used as the vehicle to bring Satan's sprog into this dimension, completely against her will - heck, even without her knowledge - all in the name of her husband's career, BUT IT'S OKAY.

I found Rosemary's Baby to be quite risqué for its era, and honestly can't blame Old Blue Eyes for demanding his bride, Mia Farrow, quit the set. After all, if nothing else, this film did demonstrate the extent of just how powerless objects young women were.

The European, the coincidences and the creep-factor

As one of the first mainstream films directed by a European, audiences used to the formula of big production companies would have been intoxicated by the strangeness of subject and technique, and abhorred by the altogether disturbing themes of the film. There are scenes so quintessentially 'European' film, I'm certain would have knocked Grandma's horn-rimmed glasses right off their perch in the late 60's. I mean, all that Catholocism and Paganism symbolism, rape, naked wrinklies.

Watching Rosemary's Baby for the first time as a modern audience, the events following the release of the film certainly increase the chill-factor; Polanski's near-premonition of a cult irreparably damaging a pregnant woman. Unlike Rosemary who had to live with the knowledge that she had produced Satan's child at the hand of a cult, Mrs. Polanski (Sharon Tate) and her healthy child in utero were murdered at the hand of a cult. Gulp.

Furthering the creepiness is the producer William Castle's proclamations of the film being 'cursed'. Shortly after release, Castle became gravely ill. And although it's a stretch - the apartment building used in exterior shots of Rosemary's Baby, The Dakota being the building John Lennon was murdered in front of certainly gives me the willies, particularly considering Lennon's connection with Farrow's sister, Prudence:

Is this a good place to mention Manson - the man behind the cult responsible for murdering Polanski's wife and unborn child - believed the song Helter Skelter from the Beatles' White Album to be his call to arms? (I promise I'm not a Beatles conspiracy theorist, I firmly believe McCartney wasn't replaced by a Welsh look-alike.)

What else would one expect of a film centred around Satan's baby being born in the sixth month of the 66th year? (6/66)

The set & costume design

I will admit to being a bit of a set and costume design geek. It is here in both its well chosen subtleties for forwardness character traits or events are truly clinched nicely. For example, Rosemary is seen in yellows and mustards when she is healthy and upbeat, red when major plot events take place, blue and maroon when she is unwell physically and (seemingly to others) mentally.

Then there's the hair. Oh, that Vidal Sassoon hair. Pre-pregnancy innocence chopped to a beautiful pixie. Perfect.

And finally, to end on a high-note: DAT SET. Have mercy.