Review of Nosferatu (1922) by William S — 01 Nov 2011

Allow me to start off by saying that Nosferatu is a complete, shameless rip-off of Dracula. Sure, the vampire's name has been changed, and the story moved from London to Bremen, but the plot and many of the characters remain the same. Bram Stoker's widow actually sued the filmmakers for copyright infringement, securing a court order that all copies of the film be destroyed. We are fortunate today that a handful of prints survived, because it just might be the greatest rip-off of all time.

The movie does have some very real problems. Although the filmmakers had one of the great novels of the previous century to work with, the problems of adapting it into a screenplay, together with the constraints inherent to all silent films medium, mean that some plot points never become all the way clear. There is also a bit of Bad Exposition Syndrome involving the film's solution. And although Professor Van Helsing appears, he never actually confronts the villain.

But the issues are more than made up for by Nosferatu's sheer creepiness. Max Schreck, playing the title role, sports one of the all time great horror movie makeup jobs. His pointed ears, completely bald head, narrow cheekbones, and bushy eyebrows give him an aspect that is terrible to behold. His hands are oversized, with his fingers narrowing into long claws. And forget the standard pair of fangs; all of his teeth are needle sharp, and his mouth is absolutely packed with them.

This eeriness extends to practically every other aspect of the film as well. The Transylvanian castle fills the viewer with foreboding from the moment it is first seen, and the darkly lit halls and corridors within are no less disquieting. Even more menacing is the ruined manor in Bremen. Every window is broken, part of the roof is collapsed, and indeed it seems that at any moment the entire structure could come crashing down.

The special effects are also worth noting. Although crude by today's standards, there is still something frightening about seeing doors open and close on their own, or coffin lids floating through the air. We know that these sights can't be real; the jerkiness of the movements tells us that something is up. But the incompleteness of the illusion only adds to the feeling that something is not right, heightening our sense of apprehension.

Great advances in production values have taken place since this film was made, and I admit that Todd Browning's Dracula, made only a decade later, had much better plot and characterization. But Nosferatu is still the one of the most frightening movies I've ever seen, able to give even the hardiest of audiences' nightmares. And if it can still have this effect today, just imagine what it must have been like for people watching this in 1921. It's not hard to picture many a burgher making their way home through the dark, narrow streets of Berlin or Munich, convinced that their every step was shadowed by an immortal being that lived only to suck the very life out of them. See this film, and make sure you have someone to see it with you.