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Shadow of the Vampire [DVD]

Screenplay : Steven Katz

MPAA Rating : R

Year of Release : 2000

Stars : John Malkovich (F.W. Murnau), Willem Dafoe (Max Schrek), Udo Kier (Albin Grau), Cary Elwes (Fritz Arno Wagner), Catherine McCormack (Greta Schrsder), Eddie Izzard (Gustav von Wangenheim), Aden Gillett (Henrick Galeen)

Shadow of the Vampire is a darkly humorous reimagination of what went on behind the lights and cameras during the filming of F.W. Murnau's legendary silent horror film, Nosferatu, which was made in 1922 during the height of German expressionism. Murnau's film was almost lost because it was an unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula, and Stoker's widow at one point sued to have all the prints destroyed.

In screenwriter Steven Katz's fantastically fictional version of the story, Murnau did much more than just steal Stoker's storyline. As played by John Malkovich, Murnau is a driven, single-minded director who is willing to do anything for his "art." He stalks up and down the sets, yelling at crew members when they do not please him, passionately directing his actors in their roles, and always staring intently as the scene unfolds before him, the hand-crank cameras clicking away. Murnau knows that his horror film has to be a masterpiece, something vital and original, something that will live up to its subtitle, A Symphony of Horror. So, to fill the lead role of the vampire, Count Orlock, he enlists the services of a real vampire.

When filming is finished in Berlin, the production moves to a remote area of Czechoslovakia, where the actor Max Schreck (Willem Dafoe) awaits. Murnau tells his crew that Schreck is a peculiar actor whose methods are quite unorthodox. He informs them that he will be staying in character at all times, even when the cameras are not rolling. Thus, he will never take off his make-up, and he wishes to be referred to only as Count Orlock. Of course, Schreck can't take off his make-up because the pointed ears, rat-like fangs, and extended finger claws are not make-up--they're real.

Orlock has agreed to work with Murnau on the condition that Murnau allow him to feed on the blood of the leading lady, Greta Schrsder (Catherine McCormack). But, as it turns out, Schreck is an impatient vampire who gives into his blood cravings easily, and some of the film's most wickedly funny scenes involve Murnau angrily chastising his leading man for feeding off his crew, especially his cinematographer. "I need a cinematographer!" Murnau screams. (And I know that Katz had a good laugh in front of his word processor when he wrote Schreck's follow-up line: "What about the writer? You don't need a writer.")

Of course, Shadow of the Vampire is fiction from start to finish. Although all the characters bear the real names of people who were involved in the film, they are fictional creations who have no relation to their historical counterparts. Katz and director E. Elias Merhige have no real interest in the history of the making of Nosferatu or the people involved. Rather, the historical mystery and aura surrounding the film (very little is known about Schreck) makes it an easy target for reimagining a scenario about the price of making one's art, which in this case turns out to be death for almost everyone involved. (Some critics and film purists have expressed dismay that legendary artists of the silent screen era can be reappropriated in this way, and in many ways theirs is a valid argument that bears consideration. However, I would counter that we never really know artists; we only know their myths, and myths are inherently fictional.)

Although the film is shot in moody low contrast, very much duplicating the dark, shadowy feel of Nosferatu, Shadow of the Vampire is a black comedy through and through. There are moments of abject horror, yes, and it is quite literally a vampire movie. But, at the same time, the whole premise is really nothing more than a bad joke, a long play on a clever "what if ..." scenario. Critics today still write with feverish pitch about the effectiveness of Schreck's portrayal of Nosferatu--how his creepy inhumanity strips the character of the Romantic associations envisioned by Stoker and embodied by Bela Lugosi and turns him into a character of true evil. So, Shadow of the Vampire takes the next logical step, and asks, What if the reason Schreck was so good was because he was simply playing himself?

Both Malkovich and Dafoe give excellent performances that mesh well with the film's slightly over-the-top feel. Malkovich rants and raves, but always maintains the artist's forced dignity. Dafoe is simply uncanny as Schreck--with some make-up to extend his nose and emphasize the sunken nature of his eyes, the resemblance is extraordinary. The physical resemblance is transcended, though, by Dafoe's delicious scenery chewing. Hissing and slurping his way through the film, he is a daunting presence who surprises and unsettles you by both his grotesquerie and his wicked sense of humor. It was also gratifying to see Udo Kier, a veteran of numerous Eurotrash horror movies like Mark of the Devil (1971) and Paul Morrissey's Flesh for Frankenstein (1973) playing Albin Grau, the film's producer and art director.

However, for all the humor and campy shivers induced by Shadow of the Vampire, there is a disturbing undercurrent that only really comes to the surface near the end. This is the fact that, when others in the production learn that Schreck is really a vampire, they go along with it. While it at first seems that Murnau is simply an aberration, a filmmaker with no moral compass who believes his art is worth the sacrificing of human lives, it turns out that he is in like company. Grau and the cinematographer, Fritz Arno Wagner (Cary Elwes), are only too compliant in helping Murnau shoot Greta up with morphine so she will be more compliant when Shreck goes after her neck.

The black comedy of the early portions of the film give way to the disturbing final sequence that involves the filming of Nosferatu's last night with the heroine, in which she tricks him by allowing her to suck her blood, but only to keep him out until daybreak. Merhige builds the tension and rhythm of this sequence until it becomes nearly unbearable, and then he closes the film with a close-up of Murnau and a final line that guarantees that, even if you keep in mind the fictional nature of the film, you will never be able to watch Nosferatu in the same way again.

©2001 James Kendrick