Nosferatu in Venedig

Nosferatu (dir. F. W. Murnau, 1922) is regarded as a masterpiece. To be honest, I enjoyed Werner Herzog's remake (1979) far more - Klaus Kinski's performance in the title role was perfect; repellent and charismatic in equal measure. So I've been looking forward to seeing this hard-to-get-hold-of "sequel" for years.

Oh dear, what a disappointment. This film is a confused mess.

If "Vampire in Venice" were less conventional, it could be Art-house or Surrealist Cinema. And then its fogginess might be to its advantage. But... it just isn't.

Whereas its' predecessors were directed with a spark of genius, "Vampire in Venice" had a history of directorial dithering - and boy does it show. Despite some excellent cinematography, great sets and a (potentially) strong cast, the film is so weakly directed that it falls apart almost immediately. The cast is wasted. The plot is incongruous. The characters are under-developed and their motivations are anyones' guess. The whole is deeply unsatisfying. Of course, Barabara De Rossi is utterly gorgeous, Plummer has some gravitas and Kinski is OK, but without a firm hand at the rudder, we are on a gondola to nowhere.

Only the film's few saving graces allowed me to watch to the end. One for the curious only, I fear.