Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens
December 9th 2008 23:46
Subtitled A Symphony of Horror, or A Symphony of Terror (although the literal translation is "A Symphony of Grey"), F. W. Murnau’s masterpiece of silent cinema Nosferatu (1922) is one of the great landmarks of German Expressionism, alongside Robert Weine’s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919) and Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1926), and a seminal horror movie to boot.
Nosferatu also happens to be one of the very best interpretations of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, although due to copyright infringement the novel is uncredited, and in fact, Bram Stoker’s widow successfully filed a lawsuit that demanded all existing prints of the film be destroyed, however – miraculously – several of them surfaced in other countries.
Murnau was already well into principal photography by the time word got back re: using Bram Stoker’s novel as direct source material, so Murnau decided simply to change the character’s names: Count Dracula became Graf Orlock, Jonathon Harker became Hutter, Mina became Ellen, Renfield became Knock, and Van Helsing became Professor Bulwer.
Unlike all other Expressonist films of the time Murnau chose to shoot on location, and it imbues the movie with a palpable atmosphere. The city exteriors were shot in Bremen, Germany, whilst the scenes set in Transylvania were shot in the Carpathian Mountains, including Orlock’s castle interiors and exteriors. The cinematography uses a tinting process which enhances the surreal quality of the monochromatic film; yellow and rose for day and blue for night.
But it is Max Schreck as Orlock who steals the thunder. With his tall, skeletal frame, bulbous bald head and pointed ears, his piercing demonic eyes and those hideous fanged front teeth, he makes arguably the most grotesque, yet mesmerising incarnation of Count Dracula ever committed to celluloid. He virtually never blinks the entire time he’s on screen, and he’s only on screen for less than ten minutes tops, yet the whole movie is heavily permeated with his fetid presence. It’s a brilliant performance of stares and glides, that burns itself on to the retina, and haunts the mind; perfect imagery for nightmares. It has to be noted that the surname Schreck translates as “fear”.
Because the movie is silent there are numerous musical scores that exist which have surfaced each time the movie is re-released, either on VHS or DVD (and there are lots of different editions of the movie with differing versions). Not to forget the 16mm, or rare 35mm, projections where live musicians provide a score. The DVD version I own is released through Kino Video and offers two scores; one composed by Gerard Hourbette and Thierry Zaboitzeff (performed by Art Zoyd), which although electronic is brilliantly evocative, the other is written by Donald Sosin with vocals by Joanna Seaton. Neither of these two soundtracks are listed on imdb.com, instead there are nine other composers’ contributions dating from 1969 to 2004.
Narrated by Bremen’s town historian the movie describes the events that led to the terrible plague's descent upon the city in 1838: Count Orlock is a mangy Gothic creature desperate for fresh blood. Hutter’s boss Knock (Alexander Granach) is sent a letter (in wildly fantastic hieroglyphics) from Orlock describing his desire to move abroad. Hutter (Gustav von Wangenheim) is sent on a potentially lucrative mission to visit the Count’s castle to help facilitate his move to Bremen where he will occupy the vacant real estate opposite Hutter and his wife Ellen (Greta Schroeder).
Hutter becomes darkly fascinated by Orlock’s creepy surrounds, witnessing him acting most bizarrely, including an unhealthy interest after he shows the Count a photo of his beloved ("She has a lovely neck!"). At night in his quarters he re-reads a strange little book “of vampires, terrible phantomes, magicke and the seven deadly sins” that found its way into his belongings after staying a night at the local tavern.
Meanwhile back home in Germany Ellen falls “ill”, her dreams heavy with a strange and eerie longing … but not for her husband. Orlock moves swiftly (some fancy stop-motion, fast frame photography and the occasional dissolve adds an unnerving visual motif to Orlock), and soon his galleon is whipping across the seas its cargo of earth-filled coffins and a horde of rats keeping the Count company.
When the disease-ridden ship arrives in Bremen with its crew dead, the locals are horrified; the Great Death is upon them! Orlock steals into the shadows and immediately occupies the building across from Hutter. Hutter is finally back in his wife’s arms, but she’s not all there. While Knock has lost his marbles (Granach plays the lunatic superbly) and is frothing in his prison cell (he's mistaken as the harbinger of the plague) sensing that the Master is close.
Vampire’s tales don’t come more phantasmogorical or as resonating in oneiric qualities than F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu. The director’s vision is consummate in its minimalism and dark profundity. There’s an excellent dramatisation of the making of the film called Shadow of the Vampire (2000) starring John Malkovich as Murnau and Willem Dafoe as Schreck (apparently Schreck fancied himself as a real vampire, causing all sorts of trouble on-set), and there’s also Werner Herzog’s deeply atmospheric cult fave remake shot in stunning cold colour from 1979 starring Klaus Kinski and Isabelle Adjani (I’ll review that soon enough).
No trailers exist for the movie, so I chose a short delectable moment: Hutter shows Count Orlock the photo of his wife Ellen:
Nosferatu also happens to be one of the very best interpretations of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, although due to copyright infringement the novel is uncredited, and in fact, Bram Stoker’s widow successfully filed a lawsuit that demanded all existing prints of the film be destroyed, however – miraculously – several of them surfaced in other countries.
Murnau was already well into principal photography by the time word got back re: using Bram Stoker’s novel as direct source material, so Murnau decided simply to change the character’s names: Count Dracula became Graf Orlock, Jonathon Harker became Hutter, Mina became Ellen, Renfield became Knock, and Van Helsing became Professor Bulwer.
Unlike all other Expressonist films of the time Murnau chose to shoot on location, and it imbues the movie with a palpable atmosphere. The city exteriors were shot in Bremen, Germany, whilst the scenes set in Transylvania were shot in the Carpathian Mountains, including Orlock’s castle interiors and exteriors. The cinematography uses a tinting process which enhances the surreal quality of the monochromatic film; yellow and rose for day and blue for night.
But it is Max Schreck as Orlock who steals the thunder. With his tall, skeletal frame, bulbous bald head and pointed ears, his piercing demonic eyes and those hideous fanged front teeth, he makes arguably the most grotesque, yet mesmerising incarnation of Count Dracula ever committed to celluloid. He virtually never blinks the entire time he’s on screen, and he’s only on screen for less than ten minutes tops, yet the whole movie is heavily permeated with his fetid presence. It’s a brilliant performance of stares and glides, that burns itself on to the retina, and haunts the mind; perfect imagery for nightmares. It has to be noted that the surname Schreck translates as “fear”.
Because the movie is silent there are numerous musical scores that exist which have surfaced each time the movie is re-released, either on VHS or DVD (and there are lots of different editions of the movie with differing versions). Not to forget the 16mm, or rare 35mm, projections where live musicians provide a score. The DVD version I own is released through Kino Video and offers two scores; one composed by Gerard Hourbette and Thierry Zaboitzeff (performed by Art Zoyd), which although electronic is brilliantly evocative, the other is written by Donald Sosin with vocals by Joanna Seaton. Neither of these two soundtracks are listed on imdb.com, instead there are nine other composers’ contributions dating from 1969 to 2004.
Narrated by Bremen’s town historian the movie describes the events that led to the terrible plague's descent upon the city in 1838: Count Orlock is a mangy Gothic creature desperate for fresh blood. Hutter’s boss Knock (Alexander Granach) is sent a letter (in wildly fantastic hieroglyphics) from Orlock describing his desire to move abroad. Hutter (Gustav von Wangenheim) is sent on a potentially lucrative mission to visit the Count’s castle to help facilitate his move to Bremen where he will occupy the vacant real estate opposite Hutter and his wife Ellen (Greta Schroeder).
Hutter becomes darkly fascinated by Orlock’s creepy surrounds, witnessing him acting most bizarrely, including an unhealthy interest after he shows the Count a photo of his beloved ("She has a lovely neck!"). At night in his quarters he re-reads a strange little book “of vampires, terrible phantomes, magicke and the seven deadly sins” that found its way into his belongings after staying a night at the local tavern.
Meanwhile back home in Germany Ellen falls “ill”, her dreams heavy with a strange and eerie longing … but not for her husband. Orlock moves swiftly (some fancy stop-motion, fast frame photography and the occasional dissolve adds an unnerving visual motif to Orlock), and soon his galleon is whipping across the seas its cargo of earth-filled coffins and a horde of rats keeping the Count company.
When the disease-ridden ship arrives in Bremen with its crew dead, the locals are horrified; the Great Death is upon them! Orlock steals into the shadows and immediately occupies the building across from Hutter. Hutter is finally back in his wife’s arms, but she’s not all there. While Knock has lost his marbles (Granach plays the lunatic superbly) and is frothing in his prison cell (he's mistaken as the harbinger of the plague) sensing that the Master is close.
Vampire’s tales don’t come more phantasmogorical or as resonating in oneiric qualities than F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu. The director’s vision is consummate in its minimalism and dark profundity. There’s an excellent dramatisation of the making of the film called Shadow of the Vampire (2000) starring John Malkovich as Murnau and Willem Dafoe as Schreck (apparently Schreck fancied himself as a real vampire, causing all sorts of trouble on-set), and there’s also Werner Herzog’s deeply atmospheric cult fave remake shot in stunning cold colour from 1979 starring Klaus Kinski and Isabelle Adjani (I’ll review that soon enough).
No trailers exist for the movie, so I chose a short delectable moment: Hutter shows Count Orlock the photo of his wife Ellen:
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Comment by Jarrah
Back to the Eighties
Apparently the actor was a complete nut-case, as you mentioned.
Comment by Damo
However some of the editing and jerkiness looks comical these days.
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile
Damo, well, surviving prints are damaged. More unintentionally comical are the facial expressions and body language of the actors. Those Germanic stares are pretty ominous!
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile
Paul McGann stars in spoof Lesbian Vampire Killers out next year.
That's what we're talking about!
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile