Director: F.W. Murnau
Year: 1922
Runtime: 1 hr 34 min
Source: Amazon Video (Kino Restored Edition)
Nosferatu is the first film on the list that I've seen before, twice in fact, but even after a third viewing my respect for the film remains lukewarm. I really want to love this movie, given its reputation, the great influence that it would (debatably) have, and the fact that its director Murnau would later create what might be my favorite film. But ultimately the interest I have in Nosferatu fails to go beyond an analytical detachment.
If for nothing else, Nosferatu is an absolute must-see film for its rarely-repeated take on the vampire mythos. Count Orlok is never charming, debonair, and won't win over any teenage love interests. He's a corrupt and vile abomination from the start that can barely contain his menace inside an ill-fitting nightgown, or whatever it is that he wears. Max Schreck's performance makes for essential viewing, even though like nearly all modern viewers I am far from terrified. It is easy to blame the age of the film, but in some respects Murnau's direction actually works against a sense of terror. It is too easy to laugh when Orlok, gazing at a photograph of the protagonist Hutter's wife, remarks that she "has a lovely neck." And, as some contemporary critics remarked, the lighting is frequently too bright, betraying the night-time setting of many crucial scenes. Murnau's main tool for creating suspense, which he does use extremely effectively, is to turn the camera towards the victim when we know the vampire is approaching, not letting us see how close he might be getting.
What I find most interesting about Nosferatu on this third viewing is the idea that Orlok spreads corruption and plague wherever he goes. It's ultimately never clear if there even is a plague in this movie - although Orlok sleeps in the "cursed soil of the Black Death," all the plague victims were found with bite marks in their neck. But the ultimate cause doesn't matter. The corruption, fear, and terrible uncertainty that spreads throughout Europe would be relatable to an early twentieth-century audience - one can imagine attributing disease to an ancient and unknowable evil.
Year: 1922
Runtime: 1 hr 34 min
Source: Amazon Video (Kino Restored Edition)
Nosferatu is the first film on the list that I've seen before, twice in fact, but even after a third viewing my respect for the film remains lukewarm. I really want to love this movie, given its reputation, the great influence that it would (debatably) have, and the fact that its director Murnau would later create what might be my favorite film. But ultimately the interest I have in Nosferatu fails to go beyond an analytical detachment.
If for nothing else, Nosferatu is an absolute must-see film for its rarely-repeated take on the vampire mythos. Count Orlok is never charming, debonair, and won't win over any teenage love interests. He's a corrupt and vile abomination from the start that can barely contain his menace inside an ill-fitting nightgown, or whatever it is that he wears. Max Schreck's performance makes for essential viewing, even though like nearly all modern viewers I am far from terrified. It is easy to blame the age of the film, but in some respects Murnau's direction actually works against a sense of terror. It is too easy to laugh when Orlok, gazing at a photograph of the protagonist Hutter's wife, remarks that she "has a lovely neck." And, as some contemporary critics remarked, the lighting is frequently too bright, betraying the night-time setting of many crucial scenes. Murnau's main tool for creating suspense, which he does use extremely effectively, is to turn the camera towards the victim when we know the vampire is approaching, not letting us see how close he might be getting.
What I find most interesting about Nosferatu on this third viewing is the idea that Orlok spreads corruption and plague wherever he goes. It's ultimately never clear if there even is a plague in this movie - although Orlok sleeps in the "cursed soil of the Black Death," all the plague victims were found with bite marks in their neck. But the ultimate cause doesn't matter. The corruption, fear, and terrible uncertainty that spreads throughout Europe would be relatable to an early twentieth-century audience - one can imagine attributing disease to an ancient and unknowable evil.
Comments
Post a Comment