 
|
Critical Jim--The Hit Man |
Some authors create characters that resonate so deeply in our cultural psyche that, no matter what else they have written, they will be forever linked to a single literary creation. Mary Shelly's monster made her such an author; Sherlock Holmes did the same for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; a thought of Dashiell Hammett automatically produces an image of Sam Spade. Every age seems to have at least one author whose legacy is a single character capable of leaping across generations to be born anew into the culture.
Bram Stoker was such an author and his interpretation of the vampire legend, in the person of the predator, Count Dracula, has been an integral part of modern myth since its introduction. It was not always so.
Stoker was born in Dublin in November 1847 and spent his first seven years fighting an unknown, debilitating illness. The illness made the housebound child shy and frail. As his health improved, he fought to improve his well-being. By the time he graduated from Trinity College in 1870, he'd been named president of the Philosophical Society and had been awarded the University Athletic Championship.
Although writing was his first career choice, Stoker capitulated to his father's wish that he enter the civil service, where he labored for eight years. During this time, he wrote a volume of rules for civil service clerks titled, "The Duties of Clerks of Petty Sessions in Ireland" (published in 1879), which is still widely used. But, Stoker also catered to his literary inclination by becoming an unpaid theater reviewer for Dublin's Evening Mail and later, The Irish Echo. He remained a theater reviewer for five years.
In 1876, Stoker reviewed a production of Hamlet, starring actor Henry Irving. The two struck up a close friendship and two years later Stoker accepted Irving's offer to become the manager of The Lyceum, Irving's London theater. Stoker quit his civil service position, married Florence Balcombe, and moved to London.
He still practiced fiction writing and managed to publish Under the Sunset, a collection of his short stories, in 1882. Nearly a decade later, in 1891, his first novel, The Snake's Pass, was published.
A year before that, though, Stoker had begun work on an untitled manuscript about vampires. During his research, Stoker came across a reference to "Voivode Dracula" in An Account of the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia. He was intrigued by the word "Dracula," which the book footnoted as meaning "devil." Until that time, Stoker had called his vampire, Count Wampyr, not quite as foreboding a name as Dracula or Orlok. The book, which we now know became his masterwork, Dracula, was published in 1897.
His final novel, The Lair of the White Worm, was published in 1911. Bram Stoker died on April 20, 1912, after publishing eighteen novels, short story collections, and works of non-fiction, including a tribute to his lifelong friend, Henry Irving. There is no doubt that this once sickly child has stamped his indelible imprint onto modern mythology for ages to come.
Nosferatu, A Symphony of Horror
(1922)
Based on the novel, Dracula, by Bram Stoker
Screenplay: Henrik Galeen
Director: Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau
Cast: Max Schreck: Count Orlok; Gustav von Wangenheim: Thomas Hutter; Greta Schröder: Ellen Hutter; Alexander Granach: Knock; John Gottowt: Professor Bulwer
The very first thing to tell you about Nosferatu is that we, today's movie fans, are fortunate to be able to see it. The makers of Nosferatu, Prana-Films, never asked Stoker's widow, Florence, for permission to film her husband's book. Nor did they offer her compensation from the film's earnings. Instead, the studio went ahead and made the film. Screenwriter Henrik Galeen changed the settings and the names of Stoker's characters and Director F.W. Murnau brilliantly filmed the story, a retitled version of Dracula. When Florence learned of its premiere, she was furious at the infringement of her late husband's estate and sued to have all copies of Nosferatu destroyed. She won the suit but, sometimes, art takes on a life of its own and finds a way to survive.
Such is the story of Nosferatu. A small number of collectors who appreciated the artistic merit of the film, managed to stash away a few of the illegal prints. After Florence Stoker's death in 1937, some of these copies surfaced. That kept the interest in it alive. The film began its current renaissance in the early 1970's, when an uncut version titled Nosferatu the Vampire was released for the collector's market and a condensed version, using Stoker's title, Dracula, was released to the general public. For a fuller version of the story, go to: http://silentmoviemonsters.tripod.com/nosferatu.html
So, why are we are fortunate this movie is with us? Because, as crude as movie-making technology was back in the silent film days of 1922, this movie still retains an amazing power to draw us deeply into its story. We sympathize with the dilemma of Hutter and his wife, Ellen, just as we are repulsed by the vulgarity of Count Orlok's ceaseless search for fresh blood. That it is a silent film does not get in the way of enjoying the story. There are few dialogue or explanatory placards to distract us. This was intentional. Director Murnau wanted audiences to be mesmerized by the action and by Max Schreck's eerie performance.
But, that doesn't explain the power and impact of Nosferatu. That comes from the unique quality of rawness it conveys. Stoker, too, wanted to shock his audience. Consider this passage concerning the count's slavish supplicant, Renfield, as told by an attendant at the mental hospital where Renfield is under observation: "He disgusted me much while with him, for when a horrid blowfly, bloated with some carrion food, buzzed into the room, he caught it, held it exultantly for a few moments between his finger and thumb, and before I knew what he was going to do, put it in his mouth and ate it." That phrase, "…horrid blowfly, bloated with some carrion food…" is exquisitely graphic. Picture yourself popping the insect into your mouth. No thanks, I'll take a gumball, please. What's even more remarkable is this was written for the gentler readers of the late 1890's. The movie, Nosferatu, is faithful to Stoker's spirit in a way later interpretations were not. Murnau spared few details to demonstrate the primitive, uncontrollable blood-lust of Orlok, a creature single-mindedly compelled to satisfy his appetite at all costs. Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee, and Frank Langella are too polished, too charming and classy to produce the loathing Schreck's Orlok oozed. They play Dracula as though he was a real royal personage-the poor count gone astray. Schreck makes us feel what his victims feel-horror, terror, confusion, incomprehension about what is happening to them. His Orlok is a creature so corrupted by eternal life and the evil that pervades that life, that one can almost smell the fetid fragrance of rot emanating from deep within its soulless guts.
Three men deserve the credit for this faithful adaptation of Stoker's Dracula. Producer and production designer Albin Grau drew the pre-production sketches detailing Orlok's rat-like appearance. Grau's Orlok is more muscular than Schreck's mantis-like finished product. But, in most other aspects, Grau's drawings clearly define the creature's final perverse form. Grau also made drawings of what the sets should look like, heavily accenting shadings and shadows to infuse an ominous, overbearing tone throughout the film. Again, this is truer to the spirit of Stoker's dark vision than succeeding filmings of his story.
F.W. Murnau, the director, held fast to Grau's dark renderings, but he also injected an element of symbolism that elevates the movie above mere entertainment. Murnau was a devotee of the German expressionist movement of painting popular in the late 1800's. Painters of this school used symbols, such as the branches of two trees forming an arch to represent the doorway one passes through on the journey from life to death. Murnau employs similar symbolism with his pervasive images of arches, windows, and mirrors throughout the film. Indeed, the first nine camera shots of the film (not including close-ups of the same shot) all contain mirrors, windows, and doorways. Later, when Hutter enters Orlok's castle to greet the waiting count, he walks through a long, tunnel-like arch that symbolizes leaving the world of humans behind. But, Murnau went a step further. He used a dark matting on the outer portion of the frame so that the mat, the castle wall, the arch and the world beyond the arch form alternating light and dark concentric rings-a bulls-eye-with Hutter and Orlok framed squarely in the center. Neither was Murnau was not afraid to try innovative techniques. A black carriage drawn by black horses transports Hutter through the woods to Orlok's castle-the last leg of his journey. At one point it seems as though we are looking at a negative, but not quite a negative-the carriage and horses are still black. The effect is disorienting-we are not sure what we are seeing-probably the precise effect Murnau was striving for. To comply with Henrik Galeen's script, which called for the carriage to drive through a "white forest," Murnau cloaked the carriage and horses with white material and developed the footage as a negative. The result is that the white material shows black as the carriage drives through Galeen's ghostly forest.
Finally, Max Schreck's portrayal of Count Orlok is so complete that, as we watch, we find ourselves straining to admit that a human being, transformed by makeup, exists beneath the black wardrobe. Yet, despite all of that makeup, Schreck managed to appear cordial as Orlok hosts Hutter in his castle and completely malevolent and otherworldly when he stalks the sailors on the ship that brings him to Germany. It is a performance that defies description-It must be seen. If you doubt Schreck's effectiveness, remember, 78 years later another movie was made, which, in part, pays homage to the character he made his own.
Of course, I am speaking of…
Shadow of the Vampire
(2000)
Based on the 1922 film, Nosferatu, A Symphony of Horror
Screenplay: Steven Katz
Director: E. Elias Merhige
Cast: John Malkovich: F.W. Murnau; Willem Dafoe: Max Schreck; Udo Kier: Albin Grau; Cary Elwes: Fritzy Wagner; Aden Gillett: Henrik Galeen; Eddie Izzard: Gustav von Wangenheim; Catherine McCormack: Greta Schröder
Shadow of the Vampire is a tribute to Nosferatu presented as dark humor. The joke is: Why were F.W. Murnau and Max Schreck able to combine their talents to make such an effective movie? The punchline: Schreck really was a vampire and Murnau knew it, in fact hired him for the sake of authenticity.
A premise like this, scripted by a less sensitive writer, guided by a heavy-handed director and played by a less talented cast, could easily crumble into parody. Not so with Shadow of the Vampire. Like a seasoned comic, it draws us into the joke as it maintains a straight-face. This leads to some juicy, multi-layered roles, which the cast-supporting players, too-exploits with expert aplomb. The two leads of this conspiracy, John Malkovich as F.W. Murnau and Willem Dafoe as Max Schreck/Count Orlok, make the most of their roles. Malkovich milks Murnau as a flawed cinematic genius willing to indulge in the gross excesses he is sure will bring perfection to his art; Dafoe, brilliantly alternates his Schreck/Orlok character to meet the challenge of vampire-playing-actor-playing-vampire. The music-my DVD had both an orchestral arrangement and an organ composition-is suitably somber without becoming morose.
More than this I dare not reveal lest I give too much away. But, I can say this. Shadow…can be appreciated at many levels: as a take-off of a great movie, as a commentary on the excesses of genius, as a probe into the nature of art, or, perhaps, as a philosophical treatise on the affect of immortality. Or, it can simply be enjoyed as a well-made horror movie. The choice belongs to the viewer.
One final comment: It doesn't matter which of these movies you see first, Nosferatu or Shadow of the Vampire. They are mutually complementary-the enjoyment of one will enhance the appreciation of the other. I watched Shadow… first. Its impact was potent enough to make me freeze-frame the final scene of Nosferatu to see whether Orlok's image was reflected in the mirror. Was it? Hmm, I'd better keep that answer to myself until the light of day.
Do you have comments about Jim's reviews? He'd love to hear from you. Contact him at:
ReadersRoom2@aol.com
Copyright 2003 by ReadersRoom, LLC. All rights reserved.
