Reality: Rosemary’s Baby and The Shining

No Wire, No Antenna: The Transmission of Reality

Audiences usually consider the film world to be separate from the reality in which they live. Only the audience truly distinguishes film reality from true reality; therefore, only the audience decides how the lines between the two can blur. In both Rosemary’s Baby and The Shining, depictions and mentions of TV and film prompt viewers to question how the problems of our own reality may be embedded in film worlds, depending on how we look at them. Both films remind the audience of the media’s numerous illustrations of the world and critique viewers’ ability to recognize their applicability to our own world.

Uses and mentions of media in Rosemary’s Baby reflect common perceptions and critiques of pop culture, women, and gender roles in the 1960s. The laundry scene consists of many TV- or film-related elements, including Rosemary’s comparison of Terry Gionoffrio to Victoria Vetri, Vetri’s casting and meta dialogue, Rosemary’s recitation of her stuff-my-husband-has-acted-in spiel, and Terry’s statement about how she spends most of the day watching TV. A particularly intriguing moment in the exchange between Rosemary and Terry is when Terry claims that she doesn’t see her own resemblance to Vetri and adds that she doesn’t know her. Hearing Victoria Vetri say that she doesn’t look like or personally know Victoria Vetri is such an odd experience that it may trigger a few uncomfortable laughs as the audience struggles to understand what to make of it. Her lines express some disconnect; perhaps the actress feels completely separate from each character she plays, or maybe she even feels detached from her identity as a celebrity. The disjuncture between Terry the character, Victoria Vetri the actress, and Victoria Vetri the person reminds viewers of the illusions of Hollywood or pop culture and how what the media feeds us is far from reality.

The contrast between Rosemary and Terry in this scene presents both static and dynamic elements of the popular image of young women in the 1960s. Victoria Vetri’s cameo as Terry initially appears to serve as a commentary on the overall pop culture of the ‘60s. In the novel on which the film is based, Rosemary remarks to Terry that she looks like Anna Maria Alberghetti, a famous Italian opera singer and stage and film actress. In the film adaptation– as I mentioned before– Rosemary notes Terry’s resemblance to Playmate Victoria Vetri. Perhaps this casting choice and change in dialogue critiques the book’s portrayal of young people in the ‘60s by suggesting that their interests are less cultured or sophisticated, and they instead are engrossed in celebrity sex symbols.

Terry’s character as a whole may also reveal some negative commentary on young people of the ‘60s, particularly when she’s compared to Rosemary. Rosemary depicts all the glorified aesthetic appeal of the era—the waifish, Twiggy-like body type, the pure, doe-eyed, childish femininity, the bright mod clothes, the gorgeous actor husband, and the hip, young, apartment-partying friends. Terry is beautiful, stylish, and hip like Rosemary, but her image is somewhat shattered by the depressing, messy reality of her life; she confesses to Rosemary, “I was starving and on dope and doing a lot of other things.” Her story asks the audience to momentarily look past the glamorous illusion of the ‘60s and to wonder if all the charm and allure is just a product of our tendency to sensationalize things as a distraction from harsher realities.

As Terry goes on to explain how she came into the care of the Castavets, she discloses that “at first [she] thought they wanted [her] for some kind of sex thing,” which quickly brings the dialogue back to sex. If an audience were to judge 1968 solely by watching this scene, they might envision a sex-crazed generation; or, they may see women to be primarily associated with sex. After all, Terry’s immediate reaction to being offered a home was thinking that the people offering solely wanted her for sex.

Terry and Rosemary also mirror each other in a few very symmetrical shots, further urging the audience’s comparison between the two and perhaps solidifying the notion that they each represent a different version of the ‘60s, or of women in the ‘60s in particular. These “versions” may be found throughout various films and their portrayals of this time period. The actresses themselves represent these versions eerily similarly to how their characters do; Mia Farrow was an object of fetishy infatuation, emanating naivety and innocence, while Vetri was a Playboy star. It’s also interesting that Vetri wasn’t quite a household name at the time; she was probably more likely to be mentioned in the locker room than at the dinner table. However, an alternative idea to consider is that the two women don’t portray different versions of the same time period but rather personify two different time periods of women’s evolution. Their comparison may comment on the changing image of the beautiful young woman, from pure to openly sexual.

The scene also emphasizes the trappings of gender roles that transcend Rosemary and Terry’s differences—and even transcend time. Despite their differences in demeanor, the two characters express several similarities in this scene—all of which lie within their gender roles. The whole scene practically screams these roles at the audience; the two women meet whilst doing laundry, Terry asks what Rosemary’s husband does rather than asking what Rosemary does (or asking anything else about Rosemary at all), Terry admits to “watch[ing] TV all day long,” and they decide to start hanging out together while doing laundry. They also both express their fear and dislike of the basement and it is established that they will habitually return to the basement as a pair to do chores. The basement goes beyond giving them the heebie-jeebies; it is a sort of trap that continuously confines them to their social roles, which are the same despite their different characters. The audience may see how outward appearance and sexual behavior or candidness can vary across time—or across women from the same time—but the general outline of social expectations for women remain the same, keeping them in a perpetual routine of confinement and conformity.

The emphasis on visual media and pop culture in Rosemary’s Baby’s laundry scene may suggest that those elements—film and TV—are major players in the maintenance of gender roles. The media feeds society culture with sexed-up celebrities like Victoria Vetri, and society gives up its life for it in return; Terry spends all day devoting herself to television, and Guy literally sells his soul to the devil to move up in Hollywood. This scene hones in on the public’s dependence on media and pop culture and the ways in which that can trap people across generations, whether it be in restrictive gender roles or in the confusing disconnect between the celebrity image and the person underneath.

The visual media also plays a notable role in The Shining and reminds the audience to apply metaphorical meanings in film to real-world problems all around us. The scene in which Danny and Wendy watch TV begins with the television screen taking up almost the entire shot, then the camera slowly pans backward to reveal the blizzard in the background through the windows. The viewer is first watching the film that is playing on the TV but is then gradually transitioned into watching a film within a film. This triggers viewers to consider that this scene is partially, of course, about film.

This movement also allows the audience to see that the television is—eerily and surreally— not plugged in. Where is this movie being transmitted from? Is it all in the characters’ imagination? The viewer may see this as a message to not take this scene, or the entirety of the hotel, literally, but rather as a set of symbols to decode. Immediately before this scene, upon Danny’s vision of the dead twins, he tells himself, “It’s just like pictures in a book… it isn’t real”; this line may function to prime the audience for the TV scene, reminding viewers to question what is real. However, Danny’s failed attempt to convince himself that what he sees isn’t real may also mimic our own; we separate fiction from reality in the film-watching process, but the two worlds sometimes have more in common than we like to admit. 

In addition to revealing the unplugged TV, the slow pan backward emphasizes a contrast between the TV and the storm outside. Perhaps the outdoors represent what is real, while the inside of the hotel remains to be an eerie, dream-like realm, full of illusions and omens, that serves to symbolize the film’s major conflicts and themes.

With this understanding, the audience may see that several of these “omens” support the film’s critique of oppression. For example, the patterned rug on which the TV stands hints at the oppression of Native Americans. The placement of the TV suggests that film— and perhaps American media and culture overall—literally tramples on Native American culture and history (similarly to how Jack aggressively lobs tennis balls at Native American designs on the hotel walls). It is also of note that the film that plays on the television is Summer of ’42, which tells the story of a teenage boy’s affair with an older, married woman. This expands on the film’s suggestion of child sexual abuse, specifically Jack’s abuse of Danny. The motif of the teddy bear and the aforementioned theme of oppression of other groups support this idea of Danny’s oppression and submission throughout the film.

The manner in which Danny and Wendy watch this film on the TV once again references Danny’s oppression and also critiques society’s obsession with the media and mindless consumption of its messages (similarly to how Terry spends her days watching TV). Danny asks his mother a question while watching, and Wendy’s distracted-sounding response is delayed a moment as she watches the screen. Danny looks at Wendy while he speaks to her and isn’t distracted by the movie, but Wendy’s gaze stays glued to the TV as she continues to give him delayed replies. Danny may have a better grip on distinguishing illusion from reality than Wendy does, or perhaps he is just less entranced by pop culture and the media than Wendy is. (Danny would prefer to play with his toy fire truck than continue watching TV.) The viewer might also perceive this as a hint that Wendy is delusional, specifically regarding Jack’s abusive nature. As I mentioned before, the film’s sexual themes are applicable to Danny and Jack; the film reality bleeds into Wendy’s reality. However, Wendy is unable to apply the film world to her own.

An overlap of shots after this scene further reminds the audience that all elements of The Shining—and of film in general—are highly symbolic and applicable to real life. The exchange between Wendy and Danny is followed by a dissolving transition into a shot of the door through which Danny enters the Torrance’s’ room, causing the ending shot of the last scene to be shown on top of the first shot of the next. The brief overlap of mise-en-scene depicts the lock chain as almost connecting the window to the television, the spot where Wendy sits is replaced by floral wallpaper, and the spot where Danny was sitting is replaced by the keyhole below the doorknob.

This graphic match may answer the audience’s earlier question as to where the wire or antenna for the TV is; the chain becomes the TV’s means of transmission, connecting it to outside of the hotel. Meanwhile, Wendy’s delusional character is solidified as her body fades into the ditsy, feminine pattern of the wall. Danny as the keyhole suggests something about his character, as well; perhaps this shot emphasizes his vulnerability as a sort of open vessel. Or, alternatively, maybe Danny is illustrated as the “key” to the whole film or to the conflicts the film conveys.

Nonetheless, this overlapping shot is yet another surreal visualization that makes the audience view all elements of the Torrance family and of the Overlook Hotel as highly symbolic. This brings us back to film; the original scene began with a film—Summer of ’42— that represents what is happening in the world around it—the world of The Shining. So, perhaps the film/world of The Shining represent what is happening in the world around it, as well—our world. The step backwards from Summer of ’42 that the camera takes may encourage viewers to take the same step back from The Shining and to continue looking at film as layers of meaning that translate into the problems of the real world—not just Native American genocide, but violence and oppression as a whole.

Both scenes’ mentions and portrayals of visual media outlets like TV and film urge audience members to compare film worlds to the real world. There is an overall theme of questioning the illusions and reality of film. One could argue that Rosemary’s Baby emphasizes the disconnect between these worlds, while The Shining encourages viewers to focus on similarities and applicable connections between film and reality. Alternatively, one could claim that both films portray film itself as a medium through which intentional and unintentional messages are sent, and that the outcome depends wholly on the audience. It’s up to the viewer as to whether they read film critically and with an open mind as to how it may point out the flaws of our own reality.

Cool sidenote: Roman Polanski wrote and directed Rosemary’s Baby. John Cassavetes plays Guy in the film. And the name of the antagonistic character at the helm of Rosemary’s nightmarish narrative: Roman Castevet.