Nosferatu, fantôme de la nuit

If anybody ever founds a Vampire Museum (and who knows, somebody somewhere probably already has), it would be unjust to devote anything less than a wing to Werner Herzog's "Nosferatu," one of the most stunningly beautiful 'horror' films I've ever seen. While I place 'horror' in quotes, it is not because of a default urge to pigeonhole something into a genre to which it barely qualifies--no, it's because "Nosferatu" is like watching an exquisite painting magically put in motion. There is fear and eerie atmosphere aplenty (much of which is provided by a recurring classical music cue), mixed with a rat fixation that becomes oddly symbolic. Unlike F.W. Murnau's 1922 version, this 1979 remake is as much about the existential despair of the undead condition rather than simply the plight of a blood-sucking vampire; while many scenes are recreated shot-for-shot, Herzog is no plagiarist, and actually improves on many of the technical shortcomings that hindered Murnau's film decades before ('night' no longer looks like mid-day, for instance). The film's supernatural love triangle remains intact, and again hinges on Lucy Harker (Isabelle Adjani), who steals the movie from the none-too-modest talents of Klaus Kinski (Count Dracula) and Bruno Ganz (Jonathan Harker). While some may find it slow and ponderous, this "Nosferatu" is one of the best vampire films ever made (besting even Murnau's version), a moody character piece with visual ingenuity to spare.

With Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht, Werner Herzog replies firmly "by making it your own". Undertaking not only his first genre film in a career rich enough already by 1979 to earn Herzog a place among the most prolific German directors, but also a film with so much baggage, historical, stylistic or otherwise. Not only a retelling essentially of Bram Stocker's Dracula story but also a reimagining an expressionist universe defined by Herzog's cinematic forefathers (FW Murnau a key figure among them). In that aspect, Noferatu is one of the loftier, most ambitious and trickiest films Herzog tackled in a career already filled with them.

Anyone who comes to this with a previous experience of Herzog's style will realize that the German infant terrible has made the material unmistakeably his. Like most of his films, Noferatu is like a film about a dream about a documentary depicting weird people doing weird things - yet, beneath the minimalism of the plot and the docu-style naturalism of his photography, the movie resonates with the kind of hypnotic power Coppola missed in the alchemical migraine of his '92 version. Filming a medieval German town swept by plague like a grotesque carnival complete with people dancing with goats on tables and having a feast in the middle of a swarm of mice, Herzog goes on to choreograph a heavily made-up Klaus Kinski (looking like a rodent and playing a theatric version of his real half-mad self) through the steps Max Schreck's character took on the deck of the ship in the original movie as though he wants to prove that he can make it look every bit as creepy as Murnau did.

Perhaps reflecting the original in this department, Herzog's Nosferatu is still a pretty uneven film. Parts of it work better than others. When Kinski makes a grand appearance seething malice and despair, the screen is on fire. Grand antics work really well for this kind of character and this kind of movie. Bruno Ganz and Isabelle Adjani have enough charisma to carry the rest of the movie but the story structure occasionally betrays them. When Herzog cuts to Renfield's parts, you can feel the movie loosing steam with every gleeful cackle. When he cuts back to some kind of devilment going on, or even better the surreal stylizations of a bat flying in slow-motion set to Popol Vuh's repetitive drones, the movie comes closer to hitting the right emotional notes. When it achieves that kind of hypnotic, nightmarish vibe, the movie is great; when it doesn't, it's not bad.

And lastly, even though I understand Herzog's dislike for formalism, is there any particular reason why 90% of the movie is shot from eye-level? Makes one wish for the extreme skewed angles of Japanese New Wave directors.

I would like to heap strong praise on the cinematographer in his ability to make a color film that looks almost black and white. These muted colors and use of dull blues and lots of grays REALLY enhance the film and give it a beautiful moodiness and creepiness. This is by far the best aspect of the movie.

As for the acting and writing, I was less enthusiastic. In addition to the stark lighting and cinematography, the acting itself was VERY stark and way too subdued. The moody scenery was good--the moodiness of the acting was NOT. While the movie should not have been high energy, at times it felt like it had almost none and tended to bore me from time to time. With a SMALL does of adrenaline, it would have been a lot better. The slowness of the film just seemed too much and the film would have improved by just speeding up the filming, as there are just too many long and deliberate scenes. Some see this as artistry--I see it as just too over-indulgent.

Although very dated, I still think the original is the better movie of the two. Unlike NOSFERATU (1979), it was unique and not just some come lately remake. And, and many ways, the original silent version is more haunting and terrifying.

I saw this as part of a double feature with Aguirre: The Wrath of God. Needless to say, it wasn't an evening of giggles. This is a film from beginning to end about pestilence. There is the actual plague. There are characters who are walking demonstrations of pestilence. There is the sad, defeated, Count who, as we all know, is not happy with his condition, but is programmed to steep himself in blood. The characters of Kinski and Adjani are on a collision course. Only through human sacrifice and lust can this demon be destroyed. It's a gray, striking film, full of sadness and despair. Kinski is visually stunning as the vampire. He is remindful of count Orlock in the Murnau film. There is more sensuality in this film (there are less limitations). Still, like its predecessor, the star of the show is death and the scenes with the rats and the people dancing away their last days, the coffins carried through the streets, are as striking as any performance. Herzog brings out the weight of human despair.

Werner Herzog's version of Murnau's classic NOSFERATU is a captivating experience. Klaus Kinski is perfect as Count Dracula. He brilliantly conveys the loneliness and sadness of a creature who longs to be human. Count Dracula is the victim in this film, he does not enjoy his immortality and wants only to live, love and die like a human. Isabelle Adjani's ethereal beauty punctuates her ghostlike performance as Lucy, and Bruno Ganz turns in another solid performance as Jonathan.

Like other Herzog films, NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE is exquisitely photographed, eliciting an almost transcendental experience. Jonathan's journey to Dracula's castle, the dancing of the plague-ridden townsfolk, and the final scene are prime examples.

Once again, using the compositions of Popol Vuh and Wagner, Herzog creates an effective amalgamation of images an music.

One drawback to the film is that it is so beautiful to look at, it is not especially frightening. This may discourage some Dracula fans, but to those who want a hypnotic, smart vampire film, this is the one to see.