Nosferatu - Il principe della notte

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.

Another classic collaboration of Werner Herzog and Klaus Kinski, Nosferatu is not just a remake of the F. W. Murnau silent classic, but an extension of it. Herzog not only develops the Stoker story more directly than the original did, but even reintroduces the original characters - Orlok becomes Dracula, and the Hutters become the Harkers.

Like many of the films involving Herzog and Kinski, Nosferatu is a period piece and creates the context of its plot through beautiful cinematography and a relentless but unhasty pace, not through the script. ThoughKinski dominates the screen just as he always does in these collaborations, the performances of fellow greats Isabelle Adjani and Bruno Ganz are also worthy of mention. Ganz's Jonathan Harker is certainly the most sympathetic character in the film, and Adjani's Lucy is beautiful, spooky, and just odd enough to fit the role perfectly.

Nosferatu is a retelling of the Dracula tale. Unlike its generally inferior competitors, Nosferatu - both the 1922 and 1979 versions - sticks very close to Bram Stoker's text - neither elaborating the focus on bloodsucking (obsessed upon by most American interpretations of Dracula), nor revising Jonathan Harker and Dr. Van Helsing as heroic characters, nor adding erotic or romantic elements to the depravity of the original concept. If you know what Stoker was about, you will thrill to the often forgotten aspects of Stoker's novel which are redeemed here - the plague rats, the gypsies, etc.

Kinki's intensity allows him to become a perfect Dracula. He understands his role perfectly and never once slips out of 'the hunter'. This is another very important aspect of the Stoker legend which has been sadly contorted by the popularization of the Dracula legend. Nosferatu's Count Dracula is not a charming eastern European gentleman with a quirky bloodsucking habit and a lovesick soul, he is a wily, terrifying, soulless, inhuman, obsessive, predator. And he has absolutely no concern for the affairs of Homo sapiens sapiens.

The film is mostly shot in Amsterdam's old city, which fits the mood of the film well. Other locations are in Germany, and Dracula's castle, for once, is an actual castle - even the interior shots! The wonderfully eerie and disorienting Popul Vuh soundtrack compliments the typically Herzogian picture-perfect visuals.

This is a great film for those seeking an accessible introduction to film-as-art, and the legendary collaborations of Herzog and Kinski. It will likely annoy those who think of Dracula as a good looking romantic guy with a nasty habit, but is highly recommended for fans of Stoker's original work.

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This Herzog adaptation of the Dracula story, filtered through the memory in particular of Murnau's "Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horrors", is largely a successful film. It is great in parts and in aspects, but doesn't quite amount to a whole that approaches superlative status. Klaus Kinski is rather good, but not quite spellbinding, in the much-donned cape of the old Count. He is not quite up to the vastly contrasting interpretations I have seen - Schreck and Lugosi. Isabelle Adjani? Hers is far from a terrible performance, as one commentator has said; she is, indeed, reasonable in a role often lacking embellishment in other adaptations. Of course, her striking good looks are certainly far from unwelcome. The chap playing Renfield (the madman, so amusingly and vividly portrayed by Dwight Frye in the 1931 Universal "Dracula") is effective in portraying an outright giggling madman - his laugh is one of *the* most absurd and insane sounds I have heard in film...! The use of music is wonderful, as is Herzog's visual direction - the plague scenes leave quite an impression on the mind, and most scenes are accorded impressive backdrops and appropriate visual textures. Popol Vuh's musical textures are dreamily beguiling, setting just the right tone for Herzog's imagery. The film's downside has to be in the dramatics really; the dialogue and subsequent delivery of, are far from great, perhaps owing to the fact that most of the performers' native tongues are not English, and here they have to speak just that language. There is never quite enough dramatic tension induced by the script or the acting; at times the Renfield chap and Kinski are compelling, but only fitfully.

Having said all this, it is a fine rendition on film of a rather old and, frankly, enduring story. Herzog must take the credit for its effective atmosphere, but perhaps also the blame for the lacking dramatics. Certainly an enjoyable, generally impressive film.

Rating:- ****/*****

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 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.