Rosemary’s Baby

No. They cannot be doing a remake of Roman Polanski’s 1968 Rosemary’s Baby. But it’s true, and it gets worse: Michael Bay, he of Transformers and The Rock, is attached. So before that 2010 movie causes every cinema in the United States to spontaneously explode, before it defiles your DVD player and blinds your children, you might want to enjoy the original on the big screen one last time. Mia Farrow and John Cassavetes are the newlywed couple who take a creepy (but roomy!) old apartment in the Dakota. Ruth Gordon and Elisha Cook Jr. are among their nosy, insinuating neighbors. The original novel by Ira Levin was a huge bestseller, and Polanski used that audience awareness—we all know what cloven-footed, animal-voiced demon is lying in the crib at the end—to create a horror movie almost without blood. It’s all dread and unease, the mounting sense—which grows with Farrow’s belly—that something is terribly wrong. In his first American film, Polanski calmly conveys a newcomer’s wariness of what seems polite, normal, and respectable about our society. Knowing what evil impelled his flight, why should a refugee trust anyone? And why should Rosemary? Note: The film runs through Thurs., Nov. 6, and local Polanski biographer Christopher Sandford will introduce the 7:30 p.m. screening on Sunday. SIFF Cinema, McCaw Hall, 321 Mercer St., 448-2186, $8–$10. 1 p.m. BRIAN MILLER

Nov. 1-4, 1 p.m., 2008

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