First of all let me just say I watched the highly anticipated drama Megalopolis written and directed by cinema legend Francis Ford Coppola. This film is a grand mess of lofty philosophical ideas, a huge all-star cast, and zero regard for continuity or coherence. But it has a dazzling futuristic look. Since it seems like every person in the United States is publicly giving their thoughts on this film, I won't be reviewing it this week. (Surprise!) Instead, I saw something else recently that I think deserves more attention called Apartment 7A.
Apartment 7A is a quiet, spooky, horror film that released September 27th on the Paramount+ streaming service. Julia Garner (The Assistant, 2019) leads this patient thriller as a promising dancer named Terry working in the theater scene of 1965 New York City. After breaking her ankle on stage and developing an addiction to pain pills, Terry is desperate for a job and a place to live, so she follows a theater producer to his apartment building to give him a convincing plea for work. This infamous building is called The Bramford, and it soon casts its spell of darkness on the naive, unsuspecting Terry.
Now for those of you who remember your horror film history, The Bramford is the setting of the famous, iconic horror film, Rosemary's Baby (1968). So Apartment 7A is a prequel leading up to the story of Rosemary's Baby. (And this prequel leads up almost to the exact starting point of Rosemary's Baby.) Like its preceding Roman Polanski film, Apartment 7A keeps a devoted focus to being a psychological horror film with no violence, blood, or guts. (Although a bit of blood appears on the top of someone's ear during an at-home haircut).
Very little external turbulence even happens in this film because it's all about Julia Garner's performance. It's about what she's feeling (or seeing) inside her head, and sometimes it's about what she's feeling (or seeing) inside her uterus.
She changes gracefully from a timid yet determined girl who, once she moves into her new apartment, gets overwhelmed with suspicion and paranoia about her eccentric neighbors and her surprising pregnancy. Julia Garner's performance is like an unopened glass bottle of soda being shaken around so much she'll be likely to explode or shatter after holding in so much fear and anger.
Since Apartment 7A is a prequel, it doesn't offer anything new that makes it stand out from Rosemary's Baby. It's more of a call back to its preceding film, which makes Apartment 7A less unique than it could have been. But it can hopefully function as an introduction to Rosemary's Baby for younger generations who haven't yet heard of the 1968 classic (or the Ira Levin novel these films are based on).
One element of Apartment 7A is notable that helps it feel more contemporary and perceptive, and that's the theme of female independence. When Terry learns she is pregnant, she discusses the option of terminating her pregnancy. But her autonomy is soon manipulated, or cornered, to keep the baby against her growing terror. (There's something different about this baby, and Terry knows it.) This part of the story feels very mindful and different than its source material, especially since this year has seen a lot of people in the U.S. fight each other over abortion and a woman's right to choose.
Political commentary aside, Apartment 7A is an okay film. It isn't terrible or boring or lacking in a continuous narrative. It just doesn't have enough new content we haven't seen before to help it feel exciting and memorable. But at least is has provided movie lovers another option to watch during this spooky season.
