ReWatch || Nosferatu (1922, Weimar Republic)
In the century and a bit
since the art of film making has developed and constantly evolved, (some may
argue, too much, to the point of losing its initial magic) there are many films
that have touched the imagination of cinema goers everywhere. That magic doesn’t
always remain however as the near destruction of all original copies of the
seminal cinema classic Nosferatu attests.
Following the demands of
Bram Stoker's estate, all copies of Nosferatu were ordered to be destroyed
following a plagiarism suit. Luckily, not all the copies suffered that terrible
fate. As much as we love the original Dracula story and it’s various official
cinematic outings, we can’t help feel that Nosferatu truly embodied the terror
the original story wanted to pass on to the reader.
Director FW Murnau creates
a film that is watchable on so many levels that it never loses the sense of sheer
enjoyment. Every frame of the film, in contrast to the many multi hour silent
epics of the decade, is designed to do something important for the film and
with a cast that exudes the right amount of enthusiasm the right ingredients
are in place. Perhaps the key ingredient is the wonderfully mysterious Max
Schreck, portraying the supremely creepy character of Count Orlok. The fact that
little is known about the actor given the time since the film was released
makes it even more of a chilling performance and if the rumours that the actor
‘lived’ the role are true then we should be grateful that it has survived to be
enjoyed almost a century later.
But in an age of constant
creativity, the ability to release a film of even the most basic quality literally
in our hands, why should we appreciate the occasionally primitive work on
display in Nosferatu? The answer is
simple; yes, there are obvious limitations to the film on occasion but don’t
let that put you off the basic point that it has lost none of its edge. The
camera work is crisp, not a shot wasted or lingered on for too long and the
central performances are, by the sheer universality of silent cinema, open for
all to interpret.
Recent issues of the film
on DVD and Bluray have been remastered and re-scored, some versions even
featuring a rerecorded approximation of the original live music that
accompanied the film’s screenings. Whichever version you watch, (and there are
many out there, official and unofficial), you’re sure to be enchanted. The sheer
beauty of the then Weimar Republic is clear to see even in monochrome and the
intertitles describing the action and dialogue are things of beauty. Words by
themselves are an art form but the extended screen time that silent cinema
afforded them truly made it a multi-literal experience.
There is a reason that
silent cinema classics such as Nosferatu have remained popular and that is the
craft that went into their making is clear to see. Although many film makers
may prefer colour for the sheer number of options it gives, monochrome wins out
in that it is truly beautiful by nature of the sheer minimalism involved. We
could talk for a very long time about the excellence of Nosferatu but we think
we’ve made the point already.
Although many of director
FW Murnau’s films now no longer survive in any archives, potentially awaiting
discovery in some unexpected place, we should be thankful a handful did,
including this wonderfully atmospheric vampire tale now synonymous with silent cinema as a whole.
(S. Gahan)