[noprocess]
April 9, 2007

Sex with Satan: A Polanski Palooza

By Paul Marchbanks

[/noprocess][var: 'thisCategory' = 'Horror'][if: $thisCategory != 'Author Bio']
Recent Entries in Horror
[/if][noprocess]

a spoiler-filled entry

I have argued before that horror movies occasionally serve a useful function in our disbelieving, materialistic society. Films dealing in demons, angels, witches, and magic in particular provide imaginary spaces where the supernatural is treated with some degree of dramatic seriousness. On occasion, such films provoke a few empirically minded skeptics into actually reconsidering all that spiritual mumbo-jumbo they've previously dismissed. If a tale can awaken someone's slumbering sense of wonder, there's a possibility that s/he will begin searching earnestly for intersections between what fantasy suggests and his/her own lived experience confirms.

Often, this kind of tale clearly delineates the forces of good from the minions of evil. Recall The Exorcist (1973) End of Days (1999), and The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005). Other films position the protagonist in a morally and spiritually liminal space, allowing a character with a manifest interest in helping others and fighting evil to somehow access Hellish powers to accomplish his/her good deeds. Recent fare in this genre includes Spawn (1997) Hellboy (2004), and Constantine (2005).

A third category of horror films allows their heroes to succeed at a nominal level, but damns their souls in the process.

With the rest of my family out of town and some extra time on my hands, I randomly picked up a couple horror movies a few days ago and reentered the film zone I had abandoned last fall during my time-intensive job search. Little did I know that both films shared not only a director but a similar dramatic climax: a sexual encounter with Satan.

In the advanced stages of her pregnancy, the heroine of Roman Polanski's Rosemary's Baby (1968) discovers that a local coven of witches has designs on her child, and that her husband has conspired with them to improve his own standard of living á la The Stepford Wives (1975). The frightened mother convinces herself that the deceptively kind, retired neighbors in their apartment want to use her child in some kind of unholy ritual, only to discover in the terrifying conclusion that matters are much worse than she imagined. Unconvinced that her baby really died during delivery--a lie her husband spins to obscure the truth--she seeks out the coven and finds them celebrating the life of her child. You see, the horrifying dream Rosemary had about being raped by a red-eyed, scaly monster midway through the movie contained more truth than fancy, and she has unwittingly given birth . . . get this . . . to Satan's own son.

Polanski's The Ninth Gate (1999), the theatrical release of which must have been timed to take maximum advantage of pre-millennium apocalyptic hysteria, brings us alongside one Dean Corso, a book detective and adventurer hired to compare one copy of an arcane book with the three other extant copies located at different points across the globe. A mysterious woman keeps showing up during his travels, scaring off those who attempt to harm him, and helping direct his movements when necessary. Only at the film's end does Dean realize the infernal nature of his collaborator, knowledge reified with a sexual act in which her eyes turn red and her hair glows with the light of the fire behind her.

My deepest problem with these two movies is not the unnecessary nudity in each, the idea of an incarnate Lucifer having sex with a human in a profane perversion of the immaculate conception, or even the fact that Polanski repeatedly takes one of God's greatest relational gifts--sexual intimacy--and distastefully links it with the Adversary.

What bothers me most is that both films move from the act of sex with Satan towards the notion of a sexy Satan, a Satan whom we will benefit from embracing.

Rosemary's Baby concludes with Rosemary's initial horror at the red eyes of her son dwindling under the rising pressure of maternal instinct. In the final scene, she reaches out to comfort the child with love in her eyes, a motion which suggests tangible acceptance of her son and the new, dark age he is meant to herald.

Unlike Rosemary, Dean's journey begins as it ends, in darkness and corruption. Only the opacity of the shadows in which he moves changes and deepens. Dean begins as a mercenary willing to cheat others to make a buck, becomes a murderer, and ends an anti-hero willing--in essence--to sell his soul to achieve Hellish power and privilege. The final shot shows him striding towards a dark castle, the entrance of which is lit by a bright and comforting light. The implication is that a combination of hard work and fortuitous encounters with Satan have earned him a spot in the glory reserved for Satan's choicest servants.

In other words, neither Rosemary nor Dean come to harm through intimacy with Evil. Instead, their situation improves.

How sad and misleading.

Posted by Paul Marchbanks at April 9, 2007 10:19 AM

Comments

I am happy to come across your site. The dangers of serving Satan stare at every one, but people still don't believe in a world sharply divided between good and evil--they perceive good as evil and evil as good. Sex is portrayed as the ultimate thing, and selfish actions appear good without consequences. I am a Nigerian and I will tell you that more horrific, true tales like this occur in Africa everyday. God bless you.

Posted by: simeon at August 12, 2007 1:51 PM

Polansky's film was intended as a joke by the film maker. In all interviews on the subject he states that he thinks belief in the supernatural is stupid, and that he made the film to consciously poke fun at the silliness of the horror genre of film.

Posted by: vince at March 5, 2008 12:03 PM

Vince, to which of the two films I mention are you referring? Both, by any chance?

Posted by: Paul M. at March 11, 2008 9:30 AM

[/noprocess]