Dir. F. W. Murnau (1922)
The vampire Count Orlok has his eyes set on a house and his real estate agent's wife.
The history of horror started well over a hundred years ago, with the first known horror film Le Manoir du Diable being released in 1896. The first feature-length horror movie came out in 1911, an Italian retelling of the first part of Dante's Divine Comedy called Dante's Inferno (or whatever that is in Italian, I guess). The genre would not go mainstream until 1920, when the German Expressionist auteur Robert Wiene made The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, a bizarre and surreal artistic horror that still makes audiences uneasy more than a century later. It was 1922's Nosferatu, however, that established just how terrifying a horror film could actually be. With stellar costuming by Albin Grau and an incredible performance from Max Schreck as the unbelievably eerie vampire, Nosferatu was a silent take on Bram Stoker's Dracula and the first every supernatural vampire film. It also resulted in a major lawsuit from the author's family, who believed it stole material from Stoker, in an attempt to remove the film from circulation and prevent the filmmakers from continuing to make money off of his work. They were totally right, by the way, but it's been an entire century, so who the fuck cares at this point.
Anyway. The film tells the story of a real estate agent named Hutter (Gustav von Wangenheim) who is tasked with traveling to Transylvania and arranging the purchase of a property for the mysterious Count Orlok (Schreck). He leaves his wife Ellen (Greta Schröder) at home in the care of his friends, because that's what you had to do with women in the 20's. When Orlok comes around to check out his property, he sets his sights on Ellen, which is bad news because absolutely no one had any idea how to fight vampires in the early 1900's. The vampire lord desires more than just Hutter's wife, however, and soon the town of Wisborg, Germany will pay the price.
It's a quaint movie, a slow-moving silent film that is well in the public domain and often comes with a more recently recorded score and mixed and matched subtitles. Such is the price to pay for watching a film that was almost erased from existence due to lawsuits and the sands of time. It is still, however, scary. Schreck delivers a legendary performance as the ghastly Orlok, whose limited screentime compared to others in the film establishes the theory that you don't need to be inundated with visual scares for a film to have a lasting impact on the audience. Sometimes, less is more, a fact that Murnau knew way back then and a trope that horror directors still use today. When Orlok is on screen, he commands your attention, a lurking demon that dares you to look away and one that waits in the shadows to rip out your throat.
If I were to close my eyes and imagine something coming at me in the darkness, Orlok is exactly what I'd picture, a pale otherworldly being with teeth made for piercing flesh and hands that resemble claws more than fingers. Despite the slowness of the film, a near certainty for a film made so long ago, Nosferatu is still very effective. It is, after all, the Dracula story, a timeless tale of evil and love that has spawned countless imitators in every decade since. It's a rough watch for anyone but the most dedicated horror historians, but it's also an important one: sometimes it is important to see where we came from to recognize where we can go. Nosferatu is a foundational film, a movie from whence so many things that we love came.
It's a little laughable at times, especially because so many of the things in the film have been done repeatedly since. "Your wife has a lovely neck," states the Count, and Hutter has no idea because what the fuck is a vampire? Hutter believes he has two mosquito bites close together on his neck, but we all know better. He laughs off a book about vampires that he finds in Orlok's castle, because, again, what the fuck is a vampire? We know the poor, pitiable fool will find out soon enough, but it's important to remember that in 1922, the audience likely didn't know either. As with any introductory film, the German moviegoers were seeing this for the first time, and when Schreck seemed to crawl out of the screen, it's difficult for us to imagine today how terrifying that must have been.
102 years later, Nosferatu still scares, though with much less intensity than it would have without all of the films since. It's very well done for the time, a time capsule film filled with the gothic architecture and Expressionist art design that reverberates to so many films of today. The effects are rudimentary at best, the story is well told but fairly barebones, and the acting is elementary as well. Again, it's important to remember how early into film this movie was. Nobody knew anything at all. The only thing present was the ability to tell a story, and Murnau tells this story with an artistic flair that is sorely lacking from many films today. While Nosferatu may not be as entertaining as a lot of today's cinema, it's a film every horror fan should watch. You'll still get some charming scares, and it's a great version of the Dracula mythology. Just don't expect to be on the edge of your seat.
Who this movie is for: Vampire film buffs, Horror historians, Foreign real estate agents
Bottom line: Nosferatu is still scary more than a hundred years later, but it lacks a lot of the punch necessary for modern filmmakers. Still, it's art in motion, and it's a fundamental film for fans of horror history. It's a movie everyone should see at least once, and it's got a vampire look that more films should strive for. If you have the patience for it, it's a must-see film that at the very least will make you appreciate modern films even more. Give this one a look, it's streaming now for free on Tubi.