There are movies that surprise you, and then there are movies that make you think they won’t surprise you, only to pull the rug from under you when you least expect it. Apartment 7A, now streaming on Netflix, falls neatly into the latter category. A psychological horror-thriller, it takes Rosemary’s Baby, rewinds the clock, and lets us peek into the sinister history leading up to one of the most iconic horror films of all time. The result? A slow-burning, paranoia-fueled descent into madness that grips you—even when you think you know where it’s all heading.
The premise is deceptively familiar. Our protagonist, an aspiring dancer is on a relentless quest for the big stage. There’s just one problem—her leg, which she spectacularly broke in a fall, refuses to cooperate. She auditions. She fails. She auditions again. She fails harder. The rejections pile up until she gets one last shot at a major role, but the auditioner, Mr. Marchand (who is the producer) not only dismisses her but tries to degrade her in the process.
Unlike the usual horror heroines who make questionable life choices, this girl has some fight in her. She walks out (hobbles out, technically) rather than suffer his cruelty. But things take a darker turn when she starts feeling unwell—maybe it’s the pills, maybe it’s the universe conspiring against her—until she’s “rescued” by a seemingly kind elderly couple. And if you’re a Rosemary’s Baby fan, you already know who these people are. The Castevets’ presence looms over the film like a creeping shadow, their intentions masked under unsettlingly sweet smiles.
What makes the film so gripping is that, despite knowing exactly where this is going—come on, we know this story ends with a Satanic baby—you still can’t look away. The eerie silences, the unsettling kindness of strangers, the sense that something deeply wrong is lurking beneath all the “we’re just here to help, dear” pleasantries. The performances elevate it all—every single actor commits to their role so fully that even when you think you know what’s coming, you still sit there wide-eyed, gripping your blanket, waiting for the inevitable.
And when the final act unspools, it does so in a way that is deeply satisfying—tying up loose ends while setting the stage for the horror that will later unfold in Rosemary’s Baby. Maybe you won’t be shocked, but you will be engrossed. It’s the kind of horror-thriller that doesn’t just rely on jump scares but builds a slow, creeping dread that sticks with you long after the credits roll.
Final verdict? If you love a good psychological horror that expertly connects to a classic, Apartment 7A is well worth a watch. Just maybe keep your distance from overly friendly elderly neighbors.
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