Real estate agent Thomas Hutter (Gustav von Wangenheim) has journeyed to the castle of the reclusive Count Orlok (Max Schreck) to deliver a deed to a property the count is interested in purchasing.
This house happens to be across the street from Hutter’s own residence, where his wife Ellen (Greta Schröder) waits for his return.
A harmless coincidence, of course…
"The Master is near!"
Nosferatu has cast a long shadow over pop culture - from the 1979 and 2024 remakes, through Salem’s Lot, and What We Do In The Shadows.
I had not watched it until recently, but I was aware of the film’s iconography, especially Max Shreck’s appearance.
A couple of years ago I watched Shadow of the Vampire, which starred Willem Dafoe as Shreck, albeit a version of the character who is a real vampire. I am keen to re-watch that film, with the context of seeing the film it is based on.
After Voyage of the Demeter, I was craving some more Dracula, so I decided to go back and review a couple of the most well-known iterations. While I watched this one first, it is the final review of the miniseries I have released.
Watching the ‘official’ Dracula adaptations which followed only made me appreciate it more.
I like the simplicity of the narrative - Orlok is more of an overt mastermind, actively pushing the story forward (with even Hutter’s employer in cahoots to facilitate his scheme). His motive is also more pure: pure bloodlust.
In this version, Hutter and his wife are married and established. This creates more of a sense of Orlok as a force of chaos, destroying a traditional sense of order. He is explicitly linked with disease (the signs of his coming evoke the imagery of the Black Death).
It is a common misconception that silent film was exclusively black and white. Nosferatu makes use of colour tinting to connote shifts in the tone of scenes (aqua blue in the scenes set at sea).
Orlok - hunched, talons against chest, scuttling out of a darkened doorway - draws attention in every scene.
Max Shreck’s performance is so idiosyncratic and deliberate, it renders his dynamic with von Wangenheim’s brash, guileless Hutter darkly comedic.
Hutter is dangerously cavalier. Despite awareness of various dangers, he continues on his journey. When Hunter discovers a bite, he grins with surprise - he thinks they are caused by mosquito bites.
It is hard not to turn this review into a series of exclamations about its cinematic techniques. Most would be considered rudimentary now (Orlok's spectral appearance perched on his coffins via superimposition) but they are effective. See also the second attack on Hutter, in which Orlok appears as a silhouette on the wall.
Intercut with Ellen's vision, this sequence uses mise-en-scene to show a link/awareness between Orlok and and his future victim.
Orlok's first appearance - sped-up footage of carriage - is a testament to the power of simple effects to achieve a sense of the uncanny.
What supports these various effects is the desolation of the compositions - Ellen on the beach, the sailors dispatching the brethren, the shots of Orlok approaching the ruin of his new home on an un-piloted boat.
The film conveys a sense of the apocalyptic - in this case, the cataclysm is one of plague and pestilence.
The crew of the schooner Empusa (this film’s stand-in for the Demeter) empty one of Orlok’s coffin, unleashing rats on the ship. These rats subsequently act as Orlok’s advance guard when he finally lands in his new home.
In a neat touch, the ship is not wrecked in this version - Orlok pilots it to port, carries his coffin off and leaves his rats to fill the town.
The film ends with a traditional example of suspense, inter-cutting between Count Orlok's ship and Hutter on his horse and Knock at the asylum.
Easily more dynamic than the Universal film of the following decade, Nosferatu retains its power to unnerve and inspire.
Related
Dracula (1931 Spanish version)
The Last Voyage of the Demeter
No comments:
Post a Comment