Nosferatu, Eine Symphonie des Grauens (Nosferatu, A Symphony of Horror)
- 1922, Germany
- Directed by: F.W. Murnau
- Cast:
Max Schreck as Count Orlock - Nosferatu (Dracula)
Gustav von Wangenheim as Thomas Hutter (Jonathan Harker)
Greta Scröder as Ellen Hutter (Mina Harker)
Alexander Granach as Knock (Renfield)
Georg H. Schnell as Mr. Harding (Westenra)
Ruth Landshoff as Ruth Harding (Lucy Westenra)
John Gottowt as Professor Bulwer (Abraham Van Helsing)
Gustav Botz as Dr. Sievers (Jack Seward)
Max Nemetz as the Captain of the Demeter
The film, a production of Prana-Film, premiered in the Marble Gardens, of the Berlin Zoological Gardens, in March of 1922.
Its director, Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau (by his real name Friedrich Wilhelm Plumpe, Bielefeld, Germany, 1888 - Santa Barbara, CA, 1931), was a notable exponent of the expressionism, this profoundly northern movement, which appeared in the German cinematography at the end of WWI. Illustrious names of this current were Robert Wiene (The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, 1919), Paul Wegener (Golem, 1920) Fritz Lang (Doctor Mabuse, 1922). They all privileged themes of fantastical or horror inspiration, which they conveyed through symbolism, stylization of scenery, and lighting effects. Murnau's own preferred themes were fate and death, which he masterfully illustrated in films like The Last Man (1924), Sunrise, or Tabu:A Story of the South Seas(1931) .
With Nosferatu, Murnau and the producing company faced a plagiarism trial, which in fact brought Prana-Films to bankruptcy after only a meagre existence. Bram Stoker's widow, Florence, accused them of using Dracula without permission, and without even mentioning the source of their inspiration. Even though Murnau had changed many details, including the characters' names, the year and the place (instead of 1890's London it was Bremen in 1838 - the year of an actual outbreak of plague in that city), even the characteristics of the vampire, the story is still highly recognizable.
As a result of Florence Stoker's actions in justice, all copies of the film owned by the German receivers were destroyed in 1925. Luckily, copies were made and later resurfaced in England and the US, only to be successively destroyed, and reappear, and be destroyed again, until Florence Stoker's death in 1937. Luckily, one original copy still survived this ordeal and it reached us...
Who or what is Nosferatu?
It seems that most of Bram Stoker's inspiration on the vampires came from the works of Emily Gerard, a nineteenth century novelist, who was stationed with her officer husband in Timisoara, a town in the Banat province of Romania, and who became familiar with the Transylvanian folklore. On that she wrote, among others, "The Land Beyond the Forest: Facts, Figures, and Fancies from Transylvania", New York: Harper & Brothers, 1888. Transylvania, literally meaning "the land beyond the forest", is an area of north central Romania, long been considered a mysterious country and identified in the public mind with vampires. The following fragment is significant:
"More decidedly evil is the nosferatu, or vampire, in which every Romanian peasant believes as he does in heaven or hell."
But Nosferatu does not in fact mean "vampire" or "undead", as it has been variously and erroneously cited. It is an Old Slavonic word (nosufuratu) derived from the Greek nosophoros, which means "the plague carrier". From early times, vampires were associated with disease, especially the ones with causes that could not be explained.
Whereas Dracula controlled bats and wolves, Nosferatu is associated with rats. He lives with them, they inhabit his coffins, and they follow him everywhere, heralds of disease and death. He is very much rodent-like himself; he has pointed ears and even the teeth with which he pierces his victim's throats are not the canines, like more recent vampires use, but oversized incisors, the chisel-edged teeth at the front of the mouth.
He is not the elegant vampire who could easily mingle with humans, and inspire an immense sexual attraction, even love. He is repugnant. His whole being reeks of tombs, and unholy earth, and death; he has immense hands, with crooked clawed fingers that seem to get longer every time we see him; his gauntness is terrible, he has a cadaverous paleness, and walks in a strange stiff way, as if inside his decrepit clothing, suggestive of dust and moths, were an automaton of some sort. This makes him even more disturbing.
Max Schreck (Berlin 1879 - München 1936)- whose surname means "fear" in German, and apparently is his real name - is absolutely brilliant as Orlock and his image is that of one of the most haunting and frightening vampires in the history of film.
In the film, Knock sends Hutter to the remote Carpathian Mountains, in Transylvania, where he is to sign a real estate contract with reclusive Count Orlock. The property he will sell is coincidentally right across the street from his own house, where he lives with his wife, Ellen, of whom he is very much in love.
"You're young," Knock tells him at his slight reluctance, "What matter if it costs you some pain - or even some blood?"
While he travels, his wife Ellen remains with friends but her apprehension is unconsolable.
When Hutter finally reaches the last human outpost before his destination, he provokes a reaction of deep fear among people at the inn at the mention of the Count's name.
"We will go no further," the frightened peasants tell him. "Here begins the land of the phantoms."
Still naively confident, even after all the peasants' warnings, and after reading from the Book of the Vampires, Hutter crosses the bridge alone.
"And when he had crossed the bridge the phantoms came to meet him."
A mysterious carriage comes for him. Its strange rapid movement only enhances the eeriness of the setting. Same as the silent coachman, with his covered face and his huge eyes, of whom we suspect it is Nosferatu himself. For, except for the wild animals, he is alone in his castle, master, coachman, servant, undead, all at the same time.
Still keeping some human appearances, the Count offers him dinner, but when Hutter gets a cut at his finger, Orlock cannot resists.
"Blood! Your precious blood!"
And later, as in Dracula, Count Orlock accidentally sees Ellen's portrait and becomes interested by her.
"Is this your wife?" he asks fascinated. "What a lovely throat!" And he signs the papers.
By now Hutter has formed a good idea of what his host is, or at least has an important hunch. It's of no use for him that he keeps reading from the Book of the Vampires. Possibly, it makes things worse. At midnight, in his small room, behind the door without lock or handle even, in stupefied terror, he awaits for the Nosferatu to come to him. He is there, approaching. He is behind the door. He slowly comes upon Hutter. At the same moment, in Bremen, his wife Ellen wakes up in a somnambulistic walk and shouts with a dark premonition "Hutter!". She is heard by Orlock instead, who stops and leaves without touching Hutter.
Scenes with different characters are now shown in parallel, in a manner which conveys certain urgency, and a convergence towards the inevitable:
- Knock becomes mad and is confined to an asylum;
- Professor Bulwer, demonstrates carnivore plants in his laboratory, "the vampires of the vegetal kingdom";
- Having descended into Count Orlock's crypt, Hutter discovers his true nature; he manages to flee but fells when he escapes on the window, breaks his leg, and turns up under the care of nuns, at a hospital in Transylvania;
At the same time, Count Orlock embarks on a long sea trip towards Bremen.
Ellen is waiting for her husband (or is it really Nosferatu, whom she senses, whom she's subconsciously waiting for?) by the sea, on the dunes, in the windy cemetery of skewed crosses. Her image too is haunting, almost as frightening in a way as that of Orlock's. The desolation is overpowering. It permeates our deepest soul.
During the day, on the ship that takes him to Bremen, Nosferatu sleeps in coffins filled with the unhallow earth in which he'd been buried. At night, he kills all of the crew, one by one, feeding upon their blood, instilling in the ever fewer survivors an unspeakable terror. He needs no sailors. His vile breath continues blowing the ship's sails even when there's no one left to sail the ship. When the ship reaches the harbor, only the captain is found, lifeless, tied to his wheel. His log tells the story of the horror they lived (and died) through.
The scene that follows is surreal: the townspeople read the Captain's journal, leaning above his corpse, and, upon finding out about the deaths and the rats, decide that it is the plague they are dealing with and quickly go away, leaving the body behind.
Continuing these parallel scenes, we again see Ellen feeling the call of the vampire. "He's coming. I must go meet him!" But is she talking about her husband or the vampire? Knock also feels the call, so he escapes from his cell. Hutter and Orlock arrive almost at the same time at their respective homes.
Nosferatu brings the terror of plague to the city of Bremen. We can sense it too, it's an oppressive feeling, something indefinite, and heavy that covers our soul.
Everybody feels it and, despite her promise to Hutter, Ellen reads from the Book of the Vampires, which tells of the only way to destroy a vampire. She embroiders Ich liebe Dich (I love you) on a linen, while trying to gather the courage to do what she already has on her mind.
And this is it. Seduced by the magic of love, the vampire will be killed by the first rays of the sun, and by Ellen's sacrifice. He almost looks human, when, still at Ellen's throat, he realizes what is happening. The terror has vanished. We can feel it. This is the end of his fantastical story.
We are saturated with horror movies and, probably, there is little that can still impress us in this age when gore is commonplace, but I can only imagine the impact this movie must have had in a dark theater, in 1922. Organ music would have been best. In fact, this is how we should watch this movie. We don't even need the music; all we need is the dark, and the silence. Go to the basement, the more decrepit the better, you can imagine you're in Count Orlock's crypt, among coffins filled with earth and rats.
For modern viewers, the power of Nosferatu does not emanate from the suspense of a well-known and overly used (by now) plot, but from the atmosphere. It is masterful because it can create terror from well used shadows, from suggestion, from our minds. Evidently, it is not easy to convey only through gestures, silently, what could be more easily said with words. In this sense, the acting might sometimes seem slightly theatrical for the modern spectator. However, I find that Nosferatu has passed extremely well the test of time.
Nosferatu is now in the public domain. You can watch it for free at Google Video or at the Internet Archive. However, if you have some money to spare, you'd gain much more by buying it. (April 21st, 2007)
