Nosferatu, fantôme de la nuit

It's taken me awhile to feel like I "get" Werner Herzog movies, I often find myself arguing with myself during his stuff. Half the time is, what a pretentious hack God when will this s**t be over, the other half is my God that's beautiful, he really is a mad genius...and by the end I usually don't know what to think.

I've never watched a movie by Herzog where the plot really amounted to much, the scenarios are set up, and they follow their natural courses, but it's the moments along the way, the journey itself, and not the prize at the end, that makes his film's worth watching.

Herzog makes images, often of people being surrounded and enveloped by nature and the world around them, but images I can safely say I'd never seen before anywhere.

Whether photographing a beach, a horde of plague rats, or a man wandering through mountains, there's a photorealism and dreaminess to everything that goes hand in hand, and that it's that kind of paradox that seems at the heart of Herzog, if it sounds like too much or not enough, just get out now.

Nosferatu is the Dracula story most people are familiar with, no Romance here though, just craven greed and lust. But the directors skills transform it into something else...However I would be lying if I said I knew what, because it's not really the point, were given the images and the framework of the story and either we find something beautiful or true or we don't.

I paused this movie quite a few times just to look at it, and that's the best endorsement I can give to this, and a lot of the Herzog stuff that I end up liking(Aguire:The Wrath Of God, Heart Of Glass, Even Dwarfs Started Small, Strosvek, etc). Beautiful, unique, and challenging, but not for everyone.

The vampire genre has seen its share of lackluster films. Indeed, the centerpiece of the grand tradition, the Dracula legend, has seen so many remakes and revisionist attempts that one would be hard pressed to find a version of the tale that is original in its telling. Dracula, like it or not, is a cornerstone of Western society. And it is wholly unfortunate that Bela Lugosi is considered THE Dracula (although Hammer fans may contend that Christopher Lee holds the title since he played the good Count over twenty times).

With Werner Herzog's "Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht" (also known as "Nosferatu: The Vampyre"), the old Hollywood rules seem to have been thrown out the window in favor of F.W. Murnau's striking silent film, the 1922 masterpiece "Nosferatu: Eine Symphonie der Grauens" ("Nosferatu: A Symphony of Terror"). While many purists of the genre balk at the idea of favoring the Nosferatu tale over the time-tested Tod Browning and Terence Fisher entries, one must realize that the cape-clad widow's peak Count has been sullied by a thousand parodies over time, and is simply not a frightening entity any longer. This was a matter much pondered by Francis Ford Coppola when considering his adaptation. While Gary Oldman's portrayal was serviceable and definitely different, something key was lacking from the tale.

This is what Herzog and his long-time "trouble and strife" lead man Klaus Kinski found when they ventured upon the "Nosferatu" remake. Herzog shifted the attention of the viewer away from the plot, which acts mostly as a backdrop for the imagery, and made it so the primary intake becomes a visual one. Kinski's Dracula is not the scowling insect of the Murnau film. He portrays the Count in a way that no other actor has quite grasped. In this film, Dracula is a suffering being, loathing every moment of his curse's continuation. Of course, as the good Count himself states, "Young men. You are like the villagers. and cannot place yourself in the soul of the hunter." The vampyre is trapped by his instincts, and Kinski's eyes betray harrowing madness (as they did in "Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes"), spiteful malice, and a sorrow so bottomless it defies description. It is as if the beast wishes to weep, but has forgotten how.

Filming on location in Germany, Herzog uses the same dreamlike camera angles, mixing them with a rich color palette and masterful lighting. There is a certain uneasiness that filters outward from the screen as you watch. As Jonathan Harker explores his surroundings during his lodging at Castle Dracula, there is inexplicably a young gypsy boy incessantly playing a scratchy violin under the archway. The surreality of the picture is only matched by its attention to the dark magic of the vampire. Like its predecessor, it actually seems to believe in the creatures, and respects them. It holds the legend, the plight of the people of Wismar, and the plight of the Count himself in deep reverence.

What can be extracted from the dialogue and plot is that this is not your average bloodsuckers extravaganza. In fact, the good Count only sets his fangs to the throat of the living once on screen, and when that occurs, it lends more of a feeling of sacrifice and sorrow than of terror. Indeed, the tone of the film is driven toward tragedy, and does not shift its course. One of the film's more telling moments is when Dracula, alone with Harker's beloved Lucy, ventures to plead with the beautiful lady, "Will you come to me. become my ally? Bring salvation to your husband. and to me. The absence of love. is the most abject pain." When she refuses, he does not lash out or decide to make a meal of her then and there. He instead moans with the intonation of a wounded animal and slinks off into the night.

"Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht" is the most complete of vampire films, and towers over the genre. It could be considered a pity that the only film that sits upon its coattails is its predecessor of the same name. Under Herzog's direction (wisely choosing to avoid remaking classic shots), we get an entirely different film that exudes an entirely different feeling. It not only maintains the eerie horror that the genre deserves, but also achieves a beauty and mystique that has been lost over the years. A must-see.

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 just purchased this on DVD and its easily one of my favorite new disks. Included in the DVD masterpiece are: the English Version, the German Version with English subtitles, audio commentary by director Werner Herzog, 2 different US theatrical trailers, 1 Spanish theatrical trailer and even a making of the movie mini-feature!!! Very worth the money!!!

This is not an average movie by any means!!! It also appears to be a salute to the great German Expressionist films of the early 1900's. The story line is very intelligent and compassionate. The dialogue is spoken very soft and slowly. There is not very much action in the film, but the performances and cinematography are nothing short of breathtaking!!

Klaus Kinski plays a very convincing Dracula in this 1979 classic. His slow movements are almost hypnotizing!!! Just watch how he moves his hands!! They move so slow and very mysterious!! The guy who played the "nut case" was great!! The images of coffins, crucifixes, rats, and how rumors of the plague were spreading were brilliantly executed.

If you liked this film, you might want to check out 1992's "The Cronos" for another example of a compassionate and intelligent story about Vampires, but set in Mexico. Both films explore the "humanistic" internal conflict in vampires.

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.