I've asserted this my entire adult life, but when a movie is really well done, it can tap into an objective frequency -- presumably by accident -- that none of us can completely understand.
As with the 1968 movie version of ROSEMARY'S BABY: the novel has a character named "Roman Castavet," and the movie is later directed by someone named
Roman co-starring an actor named
Cassavetes.
Not only that, but a year after the film came out, Rosemary (not that common a name) LaBianca is murdered with her husband by the Manson Family just two days after they killed Roman Polanski's wife, Sharon, and stabbed her and her unborn
baby to death. (Never mind the scene in the kitchen where Mia Farrow eats that glop (makes one think of Susan Atkins tasting Sharon Tate's blood after she killed her) and the fact that Farrow approached the baby's crib with a butcher knife.
Weird coincidences.
Same with 1967's IN COLB BLOOD, an excellent movie based on Capote's fact-based novel, in which Robert Blake blows away an entire farmhouse family, including a daughter name "Bonnie" -- and more than 30 years later, Blake would blow away in real life a wife named "Bonnie."