Nosferatu ( Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens)1922 **

Suave, sophisticated, and outright sexy is what you think of Max Schreck's Nosferatu, right? Don't be ashamed to admit it... What? You don't like pasty skin, pointed ears, sickening-long and pointed nails, and the gait of a floating corpse? Aren't you a fan of German Expressionism?

This 1922 silent by F.W. Murnau is a classic retelling of the Dracula myth that has often been imitated, but never surpassed. For those not in the know, Murnau had some problems with Bram Stoker's people, so he changed the setting and the names of the characters from the original novel. Instead of Count Dracula wreaking havoc in London we have Count Orlock, played by Shreck, decimating Bremen, Germany. However, the core plot is the same as the book. I'm sure you know the crux of the story, so I'll move on to what is great about this picture.


The interplay between shadow and light in some scenes is just fantastic. Photographers Gunther Krampf and Fritz Wagner do an amazing job of capturing just the right amount of light to capture the creepiness that is Orlock's shadow.

Max Schreck is unforgettable as Count Orlock. To allow yourself to become so embedded in the skin of your character takes talent. Hand movements, facial expressions, the tautness of his frame--all of these were perfectly orchestrated in such a way as to make Count Orlock a timeless movie monster. Those of you who have seen Willem Dafoe's portrayal of Schreck in Shadow of the Vampire might have a deeper appreciation of Schreck's work.

My favorite scene is when Count Orlock arrives by boat in Bremen and eerily glides off the boat and through the darkened and deserted streets. This scene gave me nightmares when I first saw it as a child. Do you have a favorite scene?

This film is a classic and should be watched--even if you don't think Max Schreck is the Sexiest Man Alive

 

 

 

Tabu: A Story of the South Seas (1931) **

What’s more tabu: wearing a white thong in public after Labor Day or not mourning Michael Jackson because you know he was a sick SOB?

F.W. Murnau directed this 1931 silent classic filmed completely in the South Seas with a cast of natives (or whatever PC term you want to insert). It is part documentary and part fictional romance. At the start of production the film was supposed to be a collaboration between Murnau and the acclaimed documentarian Robert Flaherty (Nanook of the North), but things went sour when Murnau started to take the film in a fictional direction. It took two years to complete and sadly, Murnau died in a car accident prior to the release.
The story follows the tragic love story of a very gorgeous island girl and her EXTREMELY hot pearl fisherman lover. When the tribe’s sacred maiden dies the holy man chooses our heroine to take her place and be consecrated to their gods. She becomes tabu and cannot marry her love. The couple attempt to run (or more accurately row) away in a canoe and travel for what seems like forever. They land on a French colonial island and the man takes a job diving for pearls. Mind you, these two have never had to pay for anything in their lives, as there was no such thing as money on their old island. Accordingly, the man happily signs an IOU for cases of champagne, which comes back to haunt them. Meanwhile, the girl is plagued by dreams of the holy man telling her to return or he will kill her lover. She wants to flee the island, but they can’t buy tickets off the island because of the IOU. In order to make enough money, the man decides to dive for pearls in a tabu area known for its man-eating sharks. Ironically he is victorious in this pursuit only to find when he returns home that the holy man has taken the girl away. He attempts to swim after them but cannot catch them and so he decides to drown himself in the ocean.

For not being professional actors, the two lovers did a great job. They seem very natural and both deliver subtle performances. Plus, they are both drop dead gorgeous.

The actual cinematography and scenery are beautiful. It may be difficult to believe that a black and white picture could do justice to an island picture, but it does. Murnau employs his love of shadows in the darker parts of the film to emphasize mood.

The story itself is compelling. You find yourself rooting for the couple and commiserating in their misery. The fact that this is a story about the “other” makes it even more entertaining. It was nice to watch a film about another culture from this period of filmmaking where the actual culture is portrayed by correctly casted performers.

Murnau went out on a limb here and I think he did a wonderful job. I suppose if you had to die tragically in a car accident that this isn’t a bad last picture to make.

Sunrise (1927) **1/2

Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Evilly, Evilly, Evilly, Evilly,
Wife is gonna scream.

Catchy tune, eh? Too bad the musical directors of this 1927 Oscar-winning, silent classic from F.W. Murnau weren’t as clever as me—they could have made a fortune selling records to two-timing husbands looking to get rid of doe-eyed wives!

The crux of this story is a simple one: a married farmer (George O’Brien) falls for a seductive city girl (the outrageous Margaret Livingston) who convinces him to sell his farm and run away to the city with her…oh, and for good measure drown his wife (Janet Gaynor in an Oscar winning performance) in the process. What follows is one of the most riveting stories ever told in silent film history.

After making the necessary preparations for his wife’s demise, the farmer takes his wife on a rowboat trip. While rowing across the lake he menacingly glares at her and imagines throwing her overboard. He then stands up and is just about to take action when a ringing bell stops him. After they reach the shore the fearful wife jumps out of the boat and runs for her life. When the husband catches up to her he assures her there’s nothing to fear. After taking a streetcar into the city the wife runs into the street and is rescued by her husband from an oncoming car. Trying to assure her of his love, he buys her sweets and flowers. They then go into a church where a wedding is taking place and the husband is wracked with guilt. After leaving the church, the couple’s love appears reborn and they engage in a number of loving activities. Later, while they are rowing back home a storm strikes up and the man ties bulrushes to his wife to ensure her safety. The boat capsizes and the man swims to shore only to discover that his wife is missing. After seeing bulrushes drift ashore without his wife the man believes she’s dead. He then rushes home and is overcome with anguish. The other woman gleefully appears and is shocked when he chases her out of the house and begins to strangle her. Luckily for her, the husband hears that his wife has been found and he races home. Just as the sun rises the wife wakes up and kisses her husband.

The story itself is wonderful, but what makes this film great is the photography of Charles Rosher and Karl Struss. Every image in this film is masterfully framed, lighted, and shot. Of course, the final image of the husband and wife kissing at the break of sunrise is what most people remember, but there are countless images just as beautiful as this last one, especially the rowboat scenes. Other notable accomplishments for this film are the use of sound effects and double exposures.

It is difficult to believe that this film was a box-office failure. Yet, when you look at box office trends today you do see that absolute trash makes loads of money whereas films of merit often do poorly. Whatever may be the case, this film is one of the greatest silent films ever made in America.

The Last Laugh (Der letzte Mann) 1924 **

Clothes do make the man…or in this case a uniform with shiny brass buttons.

Emil Jannings plays a very proud doorman in this classic 1924 F.W. Murnau silent. In the beginning of the film, we find Jannings’ pompous doorman happy and a bit condescending to his co-workers—he has the brass buttons and fancy braids after all. When he is demoted to washroom attendant due to his age (Robert Osborne better watch out), we see a humiliated and scorned Jannings. Unable to face the world outside the hotel without his uniform, Jannings steals one from a locker to wear home. In the end, Jannings becomes a drunkard and a pitiful character that lives the rest of his days in abject misery. Actually, this is the ending I saw in a film class because my professor refused to show the ending Murnau was forced to use by the studio. Later, I learned that Jannings inherited money and went back to the hotel and flaunted his newfound wealth in the faces of those who had laughed at him. Hence, he who laughs last laughs best.

This film is 99% title card free—only at the very end does Murnau use one card to explain the tacked on ending. So, this means the viewer must pay close attention to what Jannings’ face and Murnau’s camera are saying about the narrative. Karl Freund’s camerawork in this film makes the viewer feel like a voyeur of Jannings’ life. The bathroom scenes are truly heartbreaking.

An interesting film to watch, but the ending is trite.