“Apartment 7A” is a Blunt Argument for Bodily Autonomy
It’s likely that 2024 will go down in history as the year of pregnancy horror. From original titles like Immaculate to new chapters in storied franchises like The First Omen and Alien: Romulus, it seems that the body horror of gestation is front and center in the public zeitgeist. Likely due to the overturn of Roe vs. Wade, we’ve been bombarded with the real life horrors of forced birth from US women who’ve lost their bodily autonomy. While motherhood can be a beautiful and joyous stage of life, many see it as a life-changing nightmare they would do anything to escape. What better time to revisit one of the grandmothers of the pregnancy horror subgenre: Rosemary’s Baby. Based on the novel by Ira Levin, this 1968 classic follows a woman impregnated by the devil then manipulated by a sinister coven of satanists living in her upscale New York apartment building. Despite its director’s own history of exploitation, the film is a paranoid nightmare revealing the ways in which our patriarchal society thrives by gaslighting, abusing, then discarding women. Four years after her feature debut Relic, Natalie Erika James returns to this unholy world with Apartment 7A, a prequel that follows the unfortunate woman originally intended to bear the devil’s child.
The last time we saw Terry Gionoffrio (Victoria Vetri), she was lying dead in the street after falling from a high window in the prestigious but sinister Bramford building. The titular heroine meets this friendly young woman in the subterranean laundry room and listens as she sings the praises of the Castevets, an elderly couple in the building who’ve offered her a place to stay. Terry’s death serves as a harbinger for the film’s horrors and a warning that the building is not safe for young women. James journey’s back to a few months before this ominous encounter and shows us the events leading up to this tragic fall. Her Terry (Julia Garner) is a dancer nursing an injured ankle and struggling to book roles that will pay her rent. Facing a return to her small midwestern hometown, Terry stumbles out of the Bramford’s lobby and into the clutches of her sinister saviors. At first Minnie Castevet (Dianne Wiest) and her husband seem too good to be true. The childless couple offer her the use of a vacant apartment and foster connections that land her increasingly prominent roles. But the price of their generosity soon becomes frighteningly clear. The tragic conclusion we see in the original film comes to shocking life as Terry must decide how much she will sacrifice to see her dreams come true.
Apartment 7A wears its feminist agenda on its sleeve and serves as the perfect compliment to the ‘68 film. While Rosemary (Mia Farrow) longs to become a mother, Terry knows she will never make it on the Broadway stage if she’s saddled with an unwanted pregnancy and childcare. But mirroring society, Terry and Rosemary find that their lives matter little compared to the cells growing inside them and the people they once trusted plan to use them as living incubators. Both women are raped and forced to carry the resulting child to serve a religious agenda to which they do not subscribe. It’s a clear parallel to abortion bans based on a twisted understanding of Christianity designed to control women and force them back into domestic roles.
James also shows the dangerous results of these horrific laws. Though the Castevets promise to use thinly-veiled witchcraft to improve Terry’s life, there are no promises that these manipulative rapists will follow through with their pledge. Even if she agrees to continue the pregnancy, Terry is still facing nine harrowing months and a delicate condition already causing sharp abdominal pain and sinister visions. When she calls her doctor to report these strange symptoms, he tells her in no uncertain terms that should she prioritize her own wellbeing, she will be considered a dangerous threat to the unborn child. Horrified and dehumanized, Terry schedules an illegal abortion. Entering through a back alley door, she lays on a table in what appears to be a kitchen while a woman prepares to perform a D&C. But the fetus fights back and Terry’s body will not let her go though with the procedure. Later, she tries to stab her belly, only to find her hands frozen in midair. She has become a slave to the unwanted fetus, doomed to carry these rapidly expanding cells no matter the cost to her own body.
Garner brings out the horror in this all-too-familiar role, never letting us forget about Terry’s humanity. Playing a dancer, she brings an impressive physicality to the role while displaying the nuanced vulnerability that has become her trademark. Diane Weist attacks the legendary role of Minnie Castevet which once won Ruth Gordon an Academy Award. Wrist’s Minnie feels much more vicious and sinister with unforgiving eyes that match her sharp words. Marli Siu counteracts this negative force as Terry’s best friend and fellow dancer. It’s a largely thankless role, but Annie embodies the kind of support pregnant women actually need. This predatory clan also includes solid performances from Jim Sturgess and Kevin McNally, but Apartment 7A is overall a story about its women.
As in Relic, James adds impressive style to dark subject matter. The rape that conceives Rosemary’s child is presented as a strange and disjointed dream sequence with one scene ominously bleeding into the next. James takes the opposite approach and styles the rape after Terry’s vocation, presenting a horrific assault as a short Broadway play. Tuxedoed dancers strip and surround Terry, artfully restraining her to an onstage bed. A sequined devil mounts an attack, but James leaves the disturbing details to our imagination. She’s much more concerned with the people responsible for attacking Terry than what it is this poor girl actually experiences. The story’s foregone conclusion plays out with similar flair as Terry exerts the last bit of control she can find.
Apartment 7A is another uniquely female story. Once again, James depicts the harrowing experience of being used and discarded by a predatory world, this time with a more overtly political message. Terry’s story of deadly pregnancy sometimes feels a little on the nose, but perhaps this blunt messaging is what society needs. We can tell ourselves that the Castevets are satanists harming a woman for their own evil plans. But the pain they cause is based solely on their own religious beliefs forced onto the bodies of people who do not consent. And to women like Terry who find themselves trapped in this biological nightmare, the intent doesn’t matter. Her life is ruined either way.
Jenn Adams is a writer, podcaster, and film critic from Nashville, TN. Find her social media nonsense @jennferatu.