Nosferatu(s).

Ah, so here I go, wading into rather dangerous water. I exaggerate, of course, but it is fairly well known that every person who considers himself a connoisseur of horror fare has Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau’s Nosferatu on his list of favourite films. There exists also another version of Nosferatu, directed by one Werner Herzog, and my goal here is to compare the two, and essentially to justify the fact that I prefer Herzog’s version. Why is that a thing to be justified, you may ask? Well, there is an unspoken rule amongst fans of almost any type that the remake, sequel, prequel, or re-imagining of a thing is rarely if ever as good as the thing itself. Murnau’s Nosferatu is an archetype of horror that has survived in the hearts of moviegoers for around eighty years, and anything with that kind of staying power has a serious amount of devotion going for it. Recently, when an acquaintance professed his fondness of Nosferatu, I asked if he meant the 20s version or the 70s version. “The 20s version, of course”, he scoffed, seeming surprised that I had asked.

So, having refreshed myself on both versions just last night, allow me to dissect them both for your entertainment.

First, the story. It is widely known that Nosferatu is the first film version of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, but this is not entirely the case. In order to slip around Stoker’s Widow’s refusal to allow the making of a movie, he changed the names of all the characters, as well as the ending, the appearance of the Count himself, and a number of other details. So we start with a fellow named Hutter being sent by his employer, Knock (who is a little… odd.),

to go to the castle of Count Orlok and sell him a house. Hutter sadly leaves his wife, Ellen, and heads off to the Carpathian Mountains in search of the Count. The villagers refuse to bring him any closer to the castle, and so he goes on foot, only to be picked up by a mysterious carriage and fast-forward his way up the mountains.

Orlok, as it turns out, is very creepy-looking person, who proceeds to do very creepy things,

but does buy the house Hutter was there to sell him (though only after getting a good look at a locket-picture of Ellen). Shortly afterward, Orlok piles up a stock of gravesoil-filled coffins and sets sail for Hutter’s hometown, leaving Hutter to get back by his own less efficient devices. The ship carrying Orlok and, shortly after, the whole town are stricken by plague, and people start dying in droves. Ellen learns that the only way for the vampire to be defeated is if a pure-hearted woman sacrifices herself to distract him from the call of the rooster. She does this, Orlok vanishes in the morning’s light, and the terror is over.

The film ends with Hellsing and Hutter in sorrow over Ellen's death.

Now, one thing you’ll notice when watching this film is that the soundtrack is excellent. There are beautiful strings, odd percussion, and what I swear sounds like a Pan-flute. It accents the atmosphere beautifully. …And this is where I veer off the usual path.

If you look up some reviews for Nosferatu, you will find words like ‘art’, ‘masterpiece’, ‘brilliant’, ‘unparalleled’, ‘perfect’, and a number of others. While I do agree with most of these (it is, after all, extremely well-made), I must also state firmly that Nosferatu has its flaws. The acting is very stereotypically ‘twenties’, with the exaggerated facial expressions and movement, and such techniques simply don’t age well at all.

It’s difficult to take it seriously when everyone is running around with idiotic grins on their faces. That, perhaps, is my main complaint; F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu is difficult to take seriously. When you watch it, you aren’t watching it as a horror, you’re watching it as a piece of cinematic history, and in that respect it is invaluable. However, as a film in the silent era? It’s not the absolute best.

So, what about Werner Herzog’s remake? I’ll state right away that this, too, has its glaring flaws. First of all, the soundtrack is… inconsistent. In the beginning, it’s just terrible, sounding like something out of an English soap opera, but toward the middle it picks up a bit with deep, choral sections and a nice dramatic tone. There are also quite a few places where they drop the music entirely for long stretches, a choice I normally appreciate, but it does lead to some incredibly awkward scenes. As well, there are a few things I just don’t quite get. Like a slow-motion bat, flying against a blue background. Symbolism? I have no idea.

The story is basically the same. In fact, a huge part of it is copied almost word-for-word from the original. Murnau’s Nosferatu departed from Dracula primarily in the details, and Herzog’s film follows this same tactic. Even though the names were changed back to those from the book, this version actually strays even further from Stoker’s story.

The main difference, I would say, is in the portrayal of the individual characters. Take Orlok/Dracula. In the first film, he has very few lines and spends most of his time creeping around and looming out of windows. In the newer version, he is more developed, and spends more time interacting with the other characters. Some may say that this is a downside, seeing that a more mysterious character is more effective for horror, but I would like to disagree in this case. You see, not only does Dracula get more lines in Herzog’s Nosferatu, but he takes full advantage of them, rambling like a crazy person about things no one even brought up. His effect on poor Harker is palpable here, and their every scene together drips with unnerving awkwardness.

Another thing is that while Max Schreck looked every bit the spidery monster, 

Klaus Kinski turns being a creepy, creepy person into an art form.

Everything from his eerily moving fingers to the weird moaning noises he makes occasionally is just amazingly disturbing, and it sets a precedent for the whole atmosphere of the film.

Another jarringly different character is Lucy (previously Ellen), who has quite a larger part as well, and meanders off into strangeness with her lines almost as much as Dracula.

Her relationship with Harker is also a little bit off. I can't quite put my finger on it, but Lucy being a weird sort of character in her own right adds a different layer to the film.

Herzog’s Nosferatu is not a shock-horror, or even much of a creeping-shadow horror; it is an odd, dreamish thing that plays more upon the plague aspects of the tale than the vampiric aspects. For a disease-geek like me, it is a lovely experience, but there are two things that put it ahead of its predecessor in my mind:

First, there is one scene that strikes me every time I see it. Lucy has learned what must be done in order to defeat Dracula, but is understandably reluctant to do so. Her husband is delerious, doctor Van Hellsing refuses to believe her, and the plague has taken most of the populace. We see as she walks though the town that the remaining citizens have given up on life entirely and are celebrating in a sort of macabre faire. 

People play instruments around the coffins, livestock traipses calmly through the street,

people of all ages and classes dance, carefree, while thousands of rats scurry among them. The noise in the scene is cut off entirely, and we hear only a soundtrack that, at this point, is gorgeous.

Second, there is the ending. Lucy sacrifices herself, subjecting the Count to twitching death at the sun’s rays. This much it shares with the original. She dies with a smile on her face, and Hellsing discovers both of their bodies, realizing his error and finishing Dracula off himself. Harker, trapped downstairs, is visibly affected by Dracula’s death, and tries to get Hellsing arrested. After everyone else is gone, Harker tells the maid to ready his horse, and that he has work to do. We see that he is beginning to develop the same physical characteristics as Dracula.

He rides off across a sand swept plane, and the movie ends. Now that, my lords and ladies, is properly depressing ending. Perfectly befitting the theme.

I hope that I’ve made my case rationally, as it is late at the moment of writing and I fear I may have rambled off a little. Before I tie this off, I have one last nit to pick with both films.

Take a good look at these:

See a problem? Perhaps not? Allow me to elaborate. Observe:

Focus in particular on the very forefront of the throat, and you will notice something curious. Namely, that there are no major veins. When the vampire bite is usually portrayed, it is in or around this area:

Where the intended target is clearly either the internal or external Jugular vein. Why, I wonder, did two separate directors of the same story decide to depict their vampire biting the victim’s trachea?

Proverbial food for thought.

My conclusion: Watch both of these movies. Preferably on the same evening. They are both very good, and a very interesting study of the nature of remakes. I would, however, suggest that you watch them alone, at least for the first time. The silly mannerisms of Murnau’s version and the sheer bizarreness of Herzog’s can make for an unintentionally raucous experience. (Trust me. I tried to watch them with my little sister and hardly got any notes done.)

 

Spin.

Nosferatu is © 1922 Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau-Stiftung

The other Nosferatu is © 1979 Werner Herzog Filmproduktion

Anotomical references are from McMinn's Color Atlas of Human Anatomy by P.H. Abrahams, S.C. Marks Jr and R.T. Hutchings, which is an excellant book that you should probably read.