It's the early 1920s and German silent filmmaker F.W. Murnau is about to
make the world's first vampire movie. His script is ready and he's
assembled a top-notch cast and crew willing to follow him on an eerie
location shoot in Eastern Europe. What they don't know is that, in order
to make his production as realistic as possible, Murnau has done
something quite unusual. For the crucial lead role in the horror epic,
he's hired a real vampire.
"Shadow of the Vampire" takes a skewed look at the making of the seminal
film, "Nosferatu," and the determination of the legendary director
behind it. While the movie fumbles when trying to make grand statements
about the creative process, it works very well as a straightforward
black comedy and homage to early cinema.
"Nosferatu" seems a natural for fanciful speculation. Details are
sketchy on the life of F.W. Murnau, who made 22 films before dying in a
car wreck at the age of 42 (according to Kenneth Anger's "Hollywood
Babylon," the driver of the car was an underage Filipino lad that Murnau
was "servicing" when the Packard leapt off the road). Murnau based his
most well-known film on Bram Stoker's "Dracula," but had to change the
character names due to legal problems with Stoker's estate. So Count
Dracula became Count Orlock, a feral thing light years from the elegant
Prince of Darkness that became a cinema standard a decade later. Orlock
was played by Max Schreck, once described as "an actor of little
distinction." Virtually nothing is known about the man.
Screenwriter Steven Katz found the mystery captivating. "About 10 or 11
years ago I became very interested in 'Nosferatu,'" he said. "I
especially liked the fact that the film looks incredibly realistic – to
the point that you almost think you are watching an old documentary
about a vampire. I then got the idea of what would happen if the actor
playing the vampire in the film was really a vampire. As it happens,
Schreck is the German word for shriek or fright – it seemed a little too
pat. I started to do some research on Murnau and I saw this amazing
picture of him filming – all his crew were wearing lab coats and
goggles. From that I got the idea of Murnau really treating the whole
thing as a documentary, as a scientific project."
Enter "Shadow of the Vampire" director E. Elias Merhige, who dutifully
outfits his "filmmakers" in lab coats and goggles while recreating the
look of "Nosferatu." The story is as simple as the conceit is ingenious,
following the production of the film, with Murnau explaining to his cast
that Schreck is a fiercely dedicated method actor, trained by
Stanislavsky himself, who will only appear in full make-up, at night,
while remaining in character. In fact, Murnau has cut a deal with his
vampire star; if he behaves until the film is completed, he will be
rewarded with the leading lady's neck. Schreck can't manage to control
himself, of course, leading to horror and gallows humor as Murnau
struggles to finish his opus before his star finishes the cast and crew.
None of this could work without the right actors and "Shadow of the
Vampire" boasts a fine group, led by John Malkovich as Murnau and Willem
Dafoe as Schreck. Actually, the teaming of Malkovich and Dafoe, two
phenomenally talented, but decidedly creepy performers, is a scary
notion all by itself. Had Merhige also hired Steve Buscemi and
Christopher Walken, he could have made a horror film without a script
simply by outfitting the four men in black and saying, "Okay boys,
mingle."
Malkovich is at his reptilian best as the perfectionist director, but is
burdened by having to recite lines intended to make a statement about
creative obsession, stilted lines like "If it isn't in the frame, it
doesn't exist." Dafoe, on the other hand, gets to deliver one juicy
sentence after another in the role of a lifetime. He finds the perfect
pitch for Schreck, playing the character broadly without ever going over
the top. In one wonderful scene, he explains that the romance of the
Dracula novel saddens him, because real vampires, by nature, end up
detached from mankind. "Can he even remember how to buy bread?" Schreck
muses. "How to select wine and cheese?" At that moment, the monster
becomes more human than anyone else in the story, which highlights the
weakness of the film.
Despite a tendency to confuse glibness with substance, "Shadow of the
Vampire" is still a treat, courtesy of its clever premise, rich music
and cinematography, and an enthusiastic cast gleefully overdoing their
German accents. Fans of "Nosferatu" can rejoice. Thanks to the
extraordinary efforts of Willem Dafoe, Max Schreck lives.
Copyright © 2001 Edward Johnson-Ott