Nosferatu, 1922.
Directed by F.W. Murnau.
Starring Max Schreck, Gustav Von Wagenheim, Greta Schroder and Alexander Granach.
SYNOPSIS:
An estate agent comes into contact with a new client keen to purchase property; the mysterious and ghoulish Count Orlok.
It’s October 1st once again, and time for another year of October Horrors. And no, I will never be able to come up with a better name for this series. We have another packed year of horror reviews, so let’s get cracking.
It’s no exaggeration to say that Bram Stoker’s Dracula is among the most important works of horror literature ever written, its influence stretching through the centuries into books, TV shows, video games and films. As the novel has been adapted countless times, it can often be tricky to know where to start. Most would suggest the classic 1931 Universal version (which I reviewed many years ago) as a starting point.
However, others will suggest we go back even further, 100 years to be exact, to see the birth of the cinematic Count and, arguably, the birth of the cinematic vampire. This is F.W. Murnau’s groundbreaking and iconic Nosferatu.
Now while I may have talked about Dracula in the introduction, Nosferatu is not strictly a film about him. Observant readers will notice that the plot synopsis does not once mention a Count Dracula, but instead, a Count Orlok.
The often given reason behind this change is that the filmmakers wanted to make a Dracula adaptation but couldn’t acquire the rights so unable to make an authorised version, they decided to loosely adapt the novel anyway, changing the character names to avoid being sued. In reality, character names were changed to make them more appealing to a German audience. The original German credits even credit the original Dracula novel as its source.
Regardless, Bram Stoker’s widow was still angered enough by the adaptation that she successfully sued the filmmakers for using her late husband’s work without permission, with a court order demanding that all copies of the film be destroyed. Thankfully, several copies survived, avoiding what could have been a catastrophic loss to the canon of cinematic horror.
With Nosferatu being a silent film, the acting is highly expressive, with emotions conveyed through grand physical gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. And with exaggerated performances come exaggerated characters, particularly in Count Orlok, the Nosferatu of the title, played by the mysterious Max Schrek.
With his rake-like figure, bald head, long nose, rat-like features and clawed hands, Schrek, his piercing eyes peering out in the darkness at his prey and slinky slithering movement, projects an ominous and suitably ghoulish screen presence. This Count is a far cry from the suave Dracula of later films. Orlok is a true creature of the night, his appearance as creepy as his desires, spreading fear and a literal plague in his wake and possessing a strength that defies his slender physical frame.
Shrek gives a sinister and hypnotic performance that has gone down as one of the most iconic in cinema history, and rightly so. The image of a stark staring Orlok standing at the end of a darkened hallway is a genuinely unsettling image that will linger in your nightmares.
On a technical level, Nosferatu is a well-constructed film. Made in the era of German Expression, Nosferatu features several of the stylistic tropes of the movement. Although, unlike other Expressionist works (e.g. The Cabinet of Dr Caligari), Nosferatu brings the movement’s familiar elements into the film gradually, with early scenes avoiding exaggerated set designs in favour of a more grounded approach.
However, once Orlok enters the fold, the surrealist, nightmarish atmosphere and pessimistic overtones associated with Expressionism grow heavier as his dark evil power starts to spread. This is perhaps best exemplified in the climax, which features some of the most iconic imagery in cinema history, the now-infamous image of Orlok’s shadow ascending the stairs having long since been permanently burned into our collective cinematic conscious.
While Nosferatu deserves praise for its groundbreaking technical skill and creepy lead performance, how much it will be enjoyed as entertainment depends very much on viewer tastes. Silent film fans will be right at home, whereas those with limited experience of silent cinema might be frustrated with the slow pace and general lack of action. I’ll admit that, while I admire the technical elements and the performances, I did find myself becoming restless at times, feeling that the film ran much longer than it needed to.
One’s enjoyment of the film might also depend on the musical accompaniment chosen. There are many copies of Nosferatu to choose from (the film has since become public domain), with the scores used varying in tone and appropriateness. The version I watched had an orchestral score that, while perfectly serviceable, would often veer into unnecessary bombast that would ruin the tension of scenes with a big loud blast of strings and brass.
The weirdest copy I found had the film scored with songs by gothic metal band Type O-Negative. An odd choice that, while perhaps ill-fitting, did make for a very different viewing experience. Also, some of the songs were actually pretty decent.
While it may be too slow and strange for modern audiences, Nosferatu, thanks to its spooky visuals and ghoulish lead performance, still stands as a vital piece of cinematic horror history that every horror fan should watch at least once in their life.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Graeme Robertson
