Why Are Horror Films Still Impregnating Women?

Seriously, it's 2024, and horror movies are still getting women pregnant?

Halloween is coming, and I'm feeling a bit anxious. My friends will definitely ask me to recommend some new spooky films, but I'm afraid I don't have anything to offer that'll satisfy them. So far, the horror movies that've come out ahead of the Halloween season haven't been great, especially Apartment 7A. The movie had me hooked with its promise of being a prequel to Rosemary's Baby (1968), but what did I get? After watching it, I thought I'd have been better off rewatching Roman Polanski's classic instead.

I've watched this self-proclaimed prequel, so you don't have to, and here's a warning: stay away from it.

What does Apartment 7A feel like? It's painfully cliché—but it is not agonizing to the point that it makes your hair stand on end. Instead, it makes your eyelids heavy. A deal with the devil? Been there. Creepy reflections in mirrors? Yawn. Metaphorical dances and fallen grace? Honestly, come on. We've seen enough of those in Black Swan (2010) already! Apartment 7A is like a weird mashup of Black Swan and Rosemary's Baby. It's just another tired Faustian tale—young dancer Terry Gionoffrio (played by Julia Garner) suffers a career-ending injury, and when a wealthy couple offers her a shot at fame, she finds herself drawn to dark forces.

The worst part? This is like the tenth horror movie this year with a pregnant woman at the center! Take Immaculate (2024) and The First Omen (2024)—they all follow the same pattern. And now Apartment 7A is here, ready to join the parade of "Satanic baby bump" movies. Honestly, you could even lump Alien: Romulus (2024) in there to some extent. Pregnancy horror has become so common, it's like filmmakers are offering a "pregnancy horror package" this year. Beautiful leading ladies with their big, swollen bellies are being tormented on screen, making it seem like every demon in the universe is racing to borrow a womb. It makes you wonder—do these demons get any incentive for possessing wombs, such that all of them are obsessed about doing so?

The film does touch on serious issues like workplace harassment, fears around motherhood, and the crisis of abortion, especially when the protagonist decides to terminate her pregnancy. It even indirectly critiques the anti-abortion laws in the U.S. But the problem is, horror movies tackling the "fear of motherhood" theme have become way too common—especially this year. The whole "having the devil's baby" plotline is so overcrowded that any attempts at comprehending it make you feel like you're caught in a traffic jam.

Honestly, what's scarier than carrying the devil's spawn? Watching the lead actress twist her ankle over and over in the dance scenes. That pain, ouch! You'll find yourself squirming in your seat—not out of fear, but out of sympathy for the leading lady who experiences excruciating pain. Each time she stumbles and falls, the audience feels as though their ankles are sprained along with hers. It reminded me of Jennifer Lawrence's Red Sparrow (2018), where a ballet dancer becomes a spy after breaking her ankle.

I'm starting to see a pattern—anytime a dancer shows up on screen, she's destined to fall and twist a body part.

Speaking of Terry, her character development was a disaster. From the start, she's painted as a reckless, naïve woman who's willing to do anything for fame and always trying to take shortcuts. As such, it's hard to feel bad for her. No matter how terrible things get, the audience is left thinking, "Well, you kind of brought this on yourself." Her personality makes it completely impossible for them to establish any emotional connection with her.

The only highlights, maybe, are the musical and dance sequences. But if you've seen the 2018 remake of Suspiria, you'll find the bizarre dances and creepy choreography very familiar. At one point, I was hoping for a plot twist, like Terry breaking into a Drag Queen-style dance number to defeat the cult and become the new ultimate demon herself. But no, she just ends up throwing herself off a building, all for the sake of sticking to the original storyline.

Honestly, this movie didn't need to be made. The plot simply expands on that one woman who jumps off the building in Rosemary's Baby, but with barely any new information. Sure, it's labeled as a prequel, but it's just rehashing stuff we already know. When a movie just replays the beats of a classic without adding anything fresh, it feels more like an uninspired cash grab than something original.

Apartment 7A is like a horror fan who's too scared to step out of the shadow of classics. It's afraid to innovate, so it hides in its comfort zone. If you're looking for screams and chills, you won't find them in it. The only thing you'll feel is—wow, my ankle hurts just watching it.