The Baby

A Bizarre Descent into Infantilism and Control

An oddly peculiar and criminally underrated cult film from the 1970s, “The Baby” had been on my watchlist for quite some time—and I’m glad I finally got around to it.

Let’s begin by stating the obvious: this film is not what it seems.

On the surface, it brings to light the unsettling world of paraphilic infantilism, but “The Baby” is far more layered than that. In fact, this theme may not even be the most shocking or interesting aspect of the film.

The story follows social worker Ann Gentry, who visits a profoundly dysfunctional family ruled entirely by women.

Their only male member, referred to simply as Baby, is a grown man—around 20 years old—who is kept in a state of permanent infancy.

The film never explicitly tells us whether he remains in this condition by choice or under the coercive grip of his family’s twisted control, but the implications are chilling.

At times deeply disturbing, and at others unintentionally cheesy, the film walks a fine line between horror, psychological drama, and grotesque dark comedy.

The performances range from strikingly effective to slightly goofy, but somehow it all works.

“The Baby” captures the particular cinematic atmosphere of early 1970s genre films—raw, bizarre, and defiantly unique.

Director Ted Post—already an industry veteran at the time—guides the narrative with a confident, if somewhat unconventional, hand.

While some scenes feel experimental, even amateurish in tone, they contribute to the unsettling mood that permeates the film.

It’s a strange concoction of horror and absurdity, where nothing and no one is quite what they claim to be.

From early on, it’s clear that none of the characters have good intentions. You’re unsettled from the beginning, but the film still manages to surprise you with a jaw-dropping final twist—one of those rare moments that lingers long after the screen fades to black.

What I found most compelling is how the film refuses to spoon-feed its audience. There’s no moralising, no overt explanation. You’re simply a voyeur, forced to witness this surreal domestic nightmare unfold.

I felt no empathy for any of the characters, nor was I expected to.

Instead, the film evokes a sense of cold detachment, as if you’ve wandered into a waking dream—or a quiet psychological hell.

Beneath the grotesquery, there’s a deeper critique of familial expectations, gender dynamics, and the psychological wreckage left by unresolved trauma.

And while “The Baby” is very much a product of its time, its themes still feel disturbingly relevant in an era where conversations about bodily autonomy, forced roles, and generational control remain fiercely urgent.

“The Baby” isn’t merely about ‘weirdness’—it’s about how deeply damaged people can become when locked into roles they never chose, and how society looks the other way.

I won’t spoil the plot if you haven’t seen it yet, but I can confidently recommend “The Baby” as one of the strangest and most unforgettable films of its time.

It would make for an inspired double feature with “Bad Boy Bubby”—another tale of stunted development, control, and the bizarre shapes of parental influence.