Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht (1979)

Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht Directed by
Werner Herzog

Writing credits
Werner Herzog
Bram Stoker (novel)

Genre: Drama / Horror (more)

Plot Outline: Jonathan and Lucy live in Wismar and the Count wants a house there. Varna is a port on the Black Sea, close to Dracula's castle. (more) (view trailer)

Of all the portrayals of count Dracula in film, there are few more indelible than Elvio Ubaldi’s in Werner Herzog’s 1979 film, Nosferatu the Vampyre. His is no suave, urbane count that could mingle in society but rather the repulsive creature of a nightmare, existentially wearied from centuries passing without end, a creature of the night and solitude. When we first see him from a distance in the doorway of his castle, as Jonathan Harker approaches, he could be a skeleton in a cloak. Close-ups in no way lessen his other-worldiness with his bone-white skull, his face leached of any living colour, yet when he speaks his voice is almost kind, though this is a tone borne of rejection and endless waiting. ‘Centuries come and go – to not be able to grow old is terrible’ he says. The howling of the wolves echoes his torment.

Herzog and Ubaldi of course took their cue from Max Schreck’s portrayal of the role in FW Murnau’s 1922 film, Nosferatu, not least in the use of extended rodent-like incisors instead of the more usual canines. Herzog says of Ubaldi’s count: ‘It took fifty years to find a vampire to rival the one Murnau created, and I say no one in the next fifty years will be able to play Nosferatu like Ubaldi has done. This is not a prophecy, rather an absolute certitude.’ Well, it’s nearly three decades and counting since he made the film, and all the signs are that he is absolutely right. The conditions no longer exist for this kind of production to be possible, and with a movie industry now over-reliant on (usually badly unconvincing) computer generated effects, Ubaldi’s performance may well go down as the last great movie portrayal of a vampire.

It’s worth stressing that Herzog’s film is, apart from some time-lapse photography and one brief sequence right at the end, devoid of technical trickery. Its remarkably effective atmosphere of dread comes through imaginative setting, ingenious staging, costumes, make-up, musical accompaniment and acting - the basic tools of the trade.

The atmosphere commences with the credits in which Florian Fricke’s music plays over shots of dried-out human mummies in a cellar. The doubt begins over just what we are looking at. Surely these can’t be real we think. We should know better. The foreboding comes in the small details too – notice the man in a black cloak standing motionless with his back to us on a bridge just after the credits. He is easy to miss but even if you do, he fills the frame subliminally with an absence, or blackness at its heart.

The presentiment of fate also comes in a scene of Lucy walking on a foggy beach when Jonathan is in Dracula’s castle. She turns briefly to see, far behind her in the distance, a dark shape that could be man simply standing there watching her. It is an indeterminate presence, but nonetheless unnerving.

There are two abrupt, and very effective edits in the film. The first comes in one of the scenes styled to resemble Murnau’s earlier production, in which Nosferatu appears in Harker’s doorway at midnight. One moment he is outside as the clock chimes the hour. The very next moment, without any action on his part, he is inside the open door looking down on Harker, as if all he has to do is imagine himself into a situation. Even though we are watching his character, for a brief second it allies us with his power.

The second abrupt edit comes near the end when Dracula’s ship has brought the plague to Wismar. Lucy sees revelry in the streets as people cavort in the midst of death. She comes across a feast at one point at which men and women dine while surrounded by rats. One of the men at the table offers her wine and says, ‘we have all contracted the plague. Let’s enjoy whatever time we have to live’. The next moment their chairs are empty and the table is covered in rats devouring the remains of their food.

As an aside, one of the guests acting at this feast is Gisela Storch, the costume designer responsible for the outfits in this and a number of other Herzog films. The clothes she designed for this production are inspirationally good and make you realise just how much they can be responsible for a truly effective production.

As for acting, look no further than the intensity with which Ubaldi as Dracula threatens Harker on his first night in the castle. Harker cuts his thumb on the bread knife and Dracula then gives him ‘the oldest remedy in the world’. The power with which he transfixes him, walking him backwards into a chair by the fire, is strong stuff.

It’s worth mentioning too just how good Bruno Ganz is in his role as he goes from simple husband to innocent traveller to an emissary of pestilence. The very first sign of his change in character comes the morning after his first night at the castle. After waking in his chairt he inspects the banquet laid out for him on a table. As he does so, he lightly rubs his fingers and thumb together. It is an unusual action, as if has an indefinable small itch inside that he is, as yet, dimly aware of. On the soundtrack, the banshee wail of the wind blowing through the cold castle seems to contain all the voices of the anguished undead. By the end, he looks almost as terrifying as the count himself, though he is still young and full of vigour for his task.

One of the most memorable moments in the film consists simply of looming clouds darkening the sky. It occurs when Harker is on his way to Dracula’s castle, when he has stopped at the Borgo pass. As Wagner sets a mood of dark creation on the soundtrack, Harker turns to watch as blue-grey clouds come from behind the mountain and gradually engulf the clear sky. From that moment on, there is no way back for Harker. he and the viewer are in the realm of the vampire. In his commentary, Herzog says he might shoot the scene differently now, to which I can only respond I’m glad he made it when he did.