Set shortly before the events of Rosemary’s Baby, Apartment 7A seems just as inspired by star Julia Garner’s 2020 film, The Assistant, as it is by the 1968 horror classic. This is another tale of a young woman surreptitiously recruited by a meddling older couple to have Satan’s baby, but like The Assistant—which follows a beleaguered gofer working for an abusive film producer—it’s interested in the moral and personal sacrifices one might be asked to make (in addition to the debasement one might have to endure) in order to succeed in show business. Here, Garner’s Terry Gionoffrio is poised to break out as a chorus dancer on Broadway when a devastating ankle injury threatens to derail her career. Opportunity arises, however, when she meets Minnie and Roman Castevet (Dianne Wiest and Kevin McNally), who offer her connections, as well as a home and a chance to heal in the neighboring apartment they own in a historic New York building. In a sense, Terry is a combination of Mia Farrow’s title character in Rosemary’s Baby, a pure victim, and her betraying, aspiring-actor husband (John Cassavetes). Without ever blaming Terry—as in the original, there are difficult scenes of her being drugged and raped—Apartment 7A also nods toward the psychological tension she feels over her predicament, something Garner accentuates in her performance by giving Terry a spirited, resilient ambition. This is perhaps best captured in a bravura dream sequence staged by director Natalie Erika James (Relic), in which groping hands rip off Terry’s clothes to reveal an elaborate dance costume, then usher her into a surrealist, exuberant production number that combines Terry’s showbiz desires with demonic danger. (I loved the way the production design here turns the apartment building into something from The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.) I imagine Rosemary’s Baby purists will be upset with the various references and connections Apartment 7A makes to the first film, a few of which are clumsy, but nothing was egregious enough to trip me up—including the final sequence, once again involving dance, which I found to be rather brilliant. As for Wiest reprising a part made iconic by Ruth Gordon, who won an Oscar: What can I say? I liked her. She’s missing Gordon’s steamroller cadence, but captures her passive aggressiveness and even adds a hint of malevolence. Consider it another batch of witch’s brew with a new ingredient.
(9/29/2024)
