nosferatu herzog

As the first film adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, director F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu (1922) was masterpiece of early cinema. It was also completely unauthorized by the Stoker estate and all prints were ordered destroyed. But its influence (and more than a few copies) survived and left the world with a truly unique vision of the vampire, one far removed from the more celebrated and suave performance by Bela Lugosi nine years later.

In 1979, Werner Herzog announced a remake. As the figurehead of the small German filmmaking movement, it seemed an odd choice for a director whose subject matter was typically more spiritual than supernatural. But once the obligatory Stoker plot points fall away and Murnau is given his proper respect, Herzog’s Nosferatu becomes it own creation; one that finds a tragic beauty in its monster’s cursed existence and artistic ambitions in a genre that rarely reach that far.

Like Stoker’s novel, the film is split into two halves: the first taking place at Dracula’s castle in the mountains of Transylvania, the second in a nameless European city where the Count arrives via a ghost ship, rising from his coffin in what has become the most iconic image from Murnau’s original film. Herzog’s Nosferatu recreates much of that expected imagery, including Klaus Kinski as the rat-like incarnation of evil himself. But this is not the raving actor to which we’ve become accustomed. Kinski painfully restrains himself, projecting hundreds of years of agony from his bulging eyes and clawed hands. It’s a performance every bit as powerful as any in his career despite being buried beneath make-up and bereft of any significant dialogue.

But the most obvious difference occurs in the second half of the story, with Isabelle Adjani’s character – Lucy – taking a more active role. Her self-sacrifice by giving up her body and soul to the vampire remains the same, however the stakes are much higher. In Herzog’s film, Dracula’s arrival brings the Black Death, rapidly spreading through the city in apocalyptic fashion. Images of Lucy wandering through a funeral parade that turns into one last plague-infested celebration are some of the most chilling in the film.

While this version of Nosferatu retains some art house pretensions when compared to the Hammer films or (God help us) post-Twilight mythology, it’s also one of the most nightmarishly lyrical representations of the vampire ever committed to the screen. And Scream Factory does us all a great service by bringing Herzog’s vision to blu-ray. The image is so stunningly sharp, one can’t help but dream of what the rest of his film catalog will look like. Both the English language and German language versions are included (each take was shot separately during filming) plus an audio commentary with Herzog and vintage “Making Of.”