A struggling dancer finds herself drawn into dark forces by a peculiar couple promising her fame.
“Apartment 7A” is no different from its many comrades of phony filler cinematic garbage that this decade has been inundated with. It has a cast and a vibe but no soul to sell. It would be easy to say that this film should not exist, but that can be said about any creation. But if you are going to create, bringing forth another novelty among a plethora of novelties, at least know what it is you are trying to make. “Apartment 7A’s” biggest sin is that it knows not what it is. It’s meant as a prequel to Polanski’s “Rosemary’s Baby,” but the label of “prequel” is tenuous. The film is a lazy rehashing of its predecessor.
The focus is on a minor character from “Rosemary’s Baby,” Teresa “Terry” Gionoffrio, a young woman Rosemary encounters in the Bramford’s unsettling laundry room. She’s a cheery gum-chewing, formerly down-on-her-luck gal who’s been taken in by charitable grandparent types who give her funky jewelry. And before you know it, she’s a grease stain on the pavement. And that’s all she wrote for Terry. She was all alone in the world except for her brother in the Navy. Until that is, the creators of “Apartment 7A” step in. It’s like someone said, “Hey, you know that chick that chucked herself out of the window? She’s got real main-character energy. Let’s create a storyline that’s just like ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ but kinda different. Whaddya say?” And then a dud full of glimmering hark-backs to an original was born.
Terry Gionoffrio (Julia Garner) is a dancer trying to make her dreams come true in New York City. Just a young girl from a pig farm in Nebraska. She suffers a career-crushing injury but does her best to carry on while trying not to be a burden to her friend and fellow dancer. She limps along to and from auditions with no results. After a particularly nebulous audition, Terry is on the pavement, sick from her desperation and pain. Her geriatric saviors, Minnie (Dianne Wiest) and Roman (Kevin McNally) sweep her up and put her in the Bramford, where they keep a smothering watch under the guise of care and concern.
After much poking and prodding into Terry’s past life and current life ambitions, a persistent Minnie sets her up with the producer on the project of Terry’s last audition, Alan Marchand (Jim Sturgess). They have dinner and do a dance infused with delirium and devils, and then morning comes. Terry is fog-brained but soon has all she wants for a price. A price for those clued in knows she is unwilling to pay.
“Apartment 7A” just falls flat. The acting is fine. While a bit more persnickety than Ruth Gordon, Dianne Wiest captures the essence of the quease-inducing harping buzz that is Minnie Castevet. And the sets are imbued with a captivating murkiness. But nothing can make up for the lack of substance. There’s a vague grasping of themes like bodily autonomy and gaslighting, but then it slips away into lackluster “thrills and chills.” You choke on the anxiety and panic induced by Polanski’s “Rosemary’s Baby.” The only impact present in James’s “Apartment 7A” is when Terry splats on the sidewalk.
Available on Digital and streaming on Paramount+ Friday, September 27th
