Director: E. Elias Merhige
Writer: Steven Katz
Stars: John Malkovich, Willem Dafoe, Udo Kier
This is one of those films it’s hard to imagine being made nowadays, both a prime example of an international hodge-podge production but also a surprisingly clever, witty affair; not so much a horror film as a film about horror… and about filmmaking. In fact, it’s one of several titles released at around the same time (Fade to Black, Gods and Monsters, The Cat’s Meow) which re-worked cinematic history, placing familiar figures from the industry into broadly fantastical situations while at the same time playing on the work they created. This is probably the best of the bunch, smoothly directed by the surprisingly non-prolific E. Elias Merhige (who made the serial killer thriller Suspect Zero in 2004 but otherwise was best known for his work in the music video field) and based on a tight script by Steven Katz which manages to make the most of its killer central conceit.
It’s 1922, and autocratic director Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau (John Malkovich) is busy prepping his latest work, Nosferatu, an unacknowledged adaptation of Bram Stoker’s literary sensation Dracula. The rest of the crew – producer Albin Grau (Udo Kier), writer Henrik Galeen (Aden Gillett), co-star Gustav von Wangenheim (Eddie Izzard) – are concerned that there’s nobody to play the title character, but Murnau has it all arranged: he’s signed a contract with Max Schreck (Willem Dafoe), who he claims is a character actor from the Stanislavsky school and as such will always remain in character while he’s on the set. The doubts of the others are assuaged when they travel to the shooting location and finally meet the man, who proves to be suitably sinister and believable. A bit too believable, in fact: it turns out that he’s a real vampire, a true-life Nosferatu playing an actor who is playing him, and he’s agreed to take part in the production in exchange for being allowed to have his thirsty way with the lead actress, Greta Schröder (Catherine McCormack)
It’s a very ornate film, with a lot of care taken over the art design and the period trappings. The way in which the reconstructed footage from Nosferatu is worked into the story is done with a lot of thought; and although the depiction of Murnau and his associates at work isn’t particularly authentic, it certainly looks good (I particularly liked the white lab coats and sunglasses that they all wear, giving them the impression of being boffins at work). In essence, it’s a kind of post-modern update of those creaky old movies in which a bunch of metropolitan ‘artistes’ end up marooned in an old castle and are systematically preyed upon by its vampiric owner (The Playgirls and the Vampire, The Vampire and the Ballerina (60)). But, as with all the best films, there’s also a lot going on just under the surface. Set during the years of the Weimar Republic, this shows the clash between the new, modern Germany and its ancient past, but also implies the transition from liberal debauchery to a more fascistic kind of obsession, as epitomised by the crazed Murnau, who happily watches over as others are killed, if he’s able to get it all on camera. Murnau is depicted as a singularly Faustian character, with the dubious contract he signs with Schreck mirrored by the focus on scenes from Nosferatu in which Thomas Hutter is shown signing a similarly doomed contract with the vampire (some critics have drawn comparisons with the fractious relationship between Werner Herzog and Klaus Kinski on the 1979 Nosferatu remake). It all concludes in a slightly uncomfortable manner, with the unfortunate Greta being essentially set up for an assault by the serial abuser Schreck with the willing collusion of her male colleagues, all in the name of art.
Shadow of the Vampire was a modest critical success, picking up generally favourable reviews and a couple of Oscar nominations (for Willem Dafoe and makeup artists Ann Buchanan and Amber Sibley). Dafoe very much deserved it, adopting a very striking look and emphatic, silent movie style facial expressions. But he also brings out a little of the tragedy of the character – at one point he’s shown nostalgically watching film footage of daylight, and there’s a great scene where he deconstructs Stoker’s novel from the viewpoint of the vampire – as well as bringing a good deal of black humour to the part. With Malkovich doing his patent crazed aesthete act and Udo Kier in one of his most substantial second wind roles (you’re in for a weird time when Kier’s character is the voice of reason), it all makes for an enjoyable, rather leftfield package.
Rating: 7/10
