Nosferatu

A vampyre for all seasons

We who love vampire fiction could argue all day and, more aptly, all night about the most significant progenitors of modern vampire mythologies. Bram Stoker, hard yes. After that ... it’s complicated. But if we limit it to movies, Dracula has two daddies.

First and foremost, 1931’s Dracula, directed by Tod Browning and based on the 1924 play adapted from Stoker’s 1897 novel — the wellspring of the overwhelming majority of subsequent vampire movies, the ones that revolve around a handsome literal lady-killer with a dark and bloody secret.

The other, coming even before the play, is Nosferatu: Eine Symphonie des Grauens (“A Symphony of Horror”), the 1922 German silent film directed by F.W. Murnau. This unauthorized adaptation went so far as to acknowledge in its credits the then still-copyrighted book, even though low-budget studio Prana Films, in its one and only release, never actually paid a licensing fee. (Stoker’s widow sued and eventually won her case.)

While Murnau and screenwriter Henrik Galeen did make some changes — different character names and a different year and locale, plus the enduring contribution that sunlight kills vampires rather than, as in Dracula, simply weakening them — the most striking alteration is one of focus. Stoker’s Dracula has learned to mask his predatory side beneath good manners and fashionable clothes. Universal Pictures’ Dracula also leans into the “smiler with the knife” trope that originated with Chaucer, the façade that masks murderous intent. But Count Orlock (Max Shreck) of Murnau’s Nosferatu is, by contrast, a twisted freak whose monster past is wrapped way too tightly around bone with no flesh padding. He is a neon DANGER sign, albeit one that doesn’t seem to register as quickly as it should.