Vampires (pt. IV)

Shadow of the Vampire

Norway

Howdy, my haunted honeys, I hope you’re having a fangtastic week! I, personally, am continuing to teeter on the typical October tightrope between anxiety and delight—both of which are a guarantee of my favorite month. My melancholic misanthropy mostly stems from the persistently-hot weather. For even the darkest, most depressed days can be tolerable if the weather is below 75 degrees. But I guess that’s too much to ask of stubborn-ass, globally-warmed, tech-bro-infested Texas. But it’s still October, dammit, and I’m gonna have a good time if it kills me. So, naturally, I’m watching more horror double features, to distract from the horrors of real life and at least TRY to get into the Halloween holiday spirit. This week, for the first time since 2022, I’m dabbling in some diabolical vampire cinema. Vampires are perhaps the best-represented monster in media—and in art, as a whole—so I had an abundance of options to explore. There are sexy vampires, scary vampires, ancient vampires, broody and moody vampires, lonesome and lush vampires, vampires that are philosophical, and vampires that are more low-brow. Some are depicted as beastly, with almost no human qualities beyond walking on two legs, and some are so no-threatening that they sparkle. There is no wrong way to portray a vampire, but there are definitely vamps that I prefer over others. At this current chaotic moment in the culture, the AMC television adaptation of Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire is not just the perfect imagining of this well-known and oft-butchered story, but it is the ideal manifestation of every vampire trope every gothic novelist ever dreamed up. It’s romantic, it’s horrific, it’s horny, it’s shocking, it’s artistic, it’s funny, it’s emotional, it’s melodramatic and macabre and bloody and gay and literally everything you could ever desire from vampiric storytelling—to the point that my standards for blood-sucking cinema have only been raised. Nevertheless, I kept an open mind as I ventured into new vampire territory with tonight’s two films.

Up first is a meta-classic that I’ve heard discussions about for years, with an impeccable cast and gorgeous set pieces, yet I’m only just now learning of its director, and the fact that it was produced by (and originally meant to star) Nicolas Cage: this is E. Elias Merhige’s film from the year 2000 titled Shadow of the Vampire. In one of the most promising-sounding premises I’ve ever encountered, Shadow of the Vampire follows the real-life legendary silent film director F.W. Murnau (played by the legendary weirdo John Malkovich) on the precipice of the creation of his most famous film, Nosferatu. Murnau wished to make a film adaptation of Bram Stoker’s iconic novel Dracula, the only problem is that he was refused permission by Bram Stoker’s estate. So, in a creative case of problem-solving, Murnau simply changed the character of Dracula to “Count Orlok” and changed the title of the film to “Nosferatu.” But the real beguilingly brilliant aspect to this historical fiction is that Murnau somehow tracked down Dracula, himself (Willem Dafoe), to play the lead antagonist’s role. This idea came from a real rumor of old film lore, one that Ado Kyrou started in his 1953 book Le Surréalisme au Cinéma: “The credits name the music hall actor Max Schreck as the vampire’s performer, but it is well-known that this information is deliberately untrue. No one has ever been able to reveal the identity of this extraordinary actor whose brilliant face made him forever unrecognizable. What is hidden behind the character of Nosferatu? Could it be Nosferatu himself?” Although he was completely misinformed, Kyrou’s rumor that a real vampire played Count Orlok caught on and is still believed by many. Since the tale of Dracula has been told too many times to count, the plot of this film seemed so refreshing, in theory. We meet Murnau and his hectic harem of a film crew in Berlin in 1921, just as they’re set to begin filming Nosferatu, and everyone—from the producer (Udo Kier) to the screenwriter (John Aden Gillet) to the lead actor (Eddie Izzard)—is curious as to who will be playing the titular villainous role. But Murnau keeps his cards very close to his chest, and only after several philosophical soliloquies about cinema, where he says things like, “We are scientists engaged in the creation of memory and our memory will neither blur nor fade”, does he begin to explain. Murnau has expensive, intricate, complicated plans for this film and its mysterious lead, and the producer, especially, is confused why this is all necessary. Murnau goes on to spin a yarn about this obscure but talented German actor he’s found named Max Schreck (Dafoe), who was allegedly in the Reinhart Company and studied under Stanislavski. He’ll also only ever appear in full makeup, costuming, and character, and they can only film him at night, because he is that dedicated to this role. First, Murnau shoots some preliminary studio scenes with his female lead, Greta Schroeder (Catherine McCormack), then suddenly, the entire crew is on a horse-drawn carriage road trip to Czechoslovakia. They arrive at an isolated inn, that seems even older than the 1920s, and the locals are immediately disturbed by Murnau’s methods. He’s removed crosses from walls that were clearly put there for protective purposes, and there is a bottle full of a suspiciously blood-like substance in one of the storage carriages. At long last, Max Schreck aka Dracula aka Count Orlok aka Nosferatu aka Willem Dafoe shows up, hits his mark, and is so terrifying without uttering a single word, that his scene partner gives the most convincingly frightened performance of his life. Shortly after filming the first scene with Orlok, Wolfgang the camera man falls into a hypnotic state and collapses, forcing Murnau to hire a new camera operator, Fritz Arno Wagner (Cary Elwes), who has more input to give than Murnau would like. But the biggest diva on set turns out to be, shocker, the real-life vampire, who immediately has notes of his own to give the director. Though he is effectively menacing in his full, pale, deadman get-up, Willem Dafoe’s vampire is playful and curious, and at least somewhat entertained by the frivolity of this crop of humans, especially when he has the power he does. But Murnau is a dictator of a director, who will stop at nothing to bring his vision to life—even going so far as to offer up his leading lady in return for the vampire’s participation—and it’s no spoiler to say that while the film is completed by the end, things only get darker and more deadly as the shoot continues. Shadow of the Vampire is a curious, interesting little film. It is sophisticated and artistic, and certainly self-aware in its endlessly meta format. And yet it is not bold, it is not suspenseful, it is certainly not scary, and while I enjoyed the light humor and queer-coded entourage of pretentious artists, I was shocked by how little even happened in this film. It is pleasantly goofy, yet too committed to its industry-as-the-butt-of-the-joke sense of humor. I love Udo Kier, but why was the majority of his dialogue reserved for discussing budgets? Willem Dafoe is excellent (he even received an Oscar nom for this role), and John Malkovich was reliably strange and off-putting, but I would’ve loved to have seen more of these two together. When did Murnau discover this vampire, and when did he decide to cast him in his movie? How did this Faustian deal get made, exactly? Does the vampire merely wish to feast on the female star of this film, or is he looking for an eternal companion? I thoroughly enjoyed the very end of this film, but I’m not sure the rest of it made much of an impression. Given the stacked cast and the potential for chaos with this premise, I expected Shadow of the Vampire to be much weirder, scarier, and more unpredictable than it actually was. This is not to say that it’s a bad movie. I was compelled enough, but I would’ve loved it if literally every single aspect of this film was turned up to eleven.

Tonight’s next film was similarly low-energy, and way more low budget, but these factors surprisingly worked a bit better with its story and tone and overall bizarre vibe: this is Yannis Veslemes’ 2014 Greek mumblegore film Norway. Norway follows a hedonistic, 1980s vampire named Zano (Vangelis Mourikis) who is travelling to Athens to meet his friend, Jimmy. Zano looks like a washed up punk with shaggy hair and sunglasses perpetually on, and we meet him as he boards a train. Zano narrates, saying “The winter of ‘84 was pure hell, night after night you’d walk in the rain praying that the music would never end, and the only thing you needed was a warm girl.” When he arrives at Jimmy’s place in Athens, he finds a very chic and expensive-looking coffin, but no Jimmy. Zano wanders around briefly before stopping at a phone booth to call Jimmy, and tell him he doesn’t know where he is but he will be waiting for him at “Disco Zardoz”—an extremely small and dingey club that is mostly empty. Zano asks the bartender if he knows where Jimmy the gravedigger is, and says he hasn’t seen him in over a month. This news is troubling, but as long as there’s music playing, Zano is happy. For the majority of this film, regardless of what our vamp protagonist is going through, he is dancing. And as Zano dances his way down the stairs of this hole in the wall, he finds another vampire, shooting up heroin. He’s all skin and bones and fangs, and he tells Zano, “I haven’t sucked blood in over 10 years. I got hooked on dope. It’s all about willpower, man.” Zano ignores this fellow fanged fellow, and goes back to dancing alone on the dancefloor. Another day goes by and there is still no sign of Jimmy, so Zano makes his way back to the Disco Zardoz, where he finds more of a crowd this time—including a fashionable and sultry woman named Alice—who actually gives him the time of day. Alice has a man on her arm already, a tall blonde European whom Zano refers to as “Norway” and “this loser”, but he doesn’t stop Zano from coming on to Alice. And when this gentleman does become a nuisance, Zano simply bites him. The man’s blood comes gushing out of his neck, a neon Gatorade-yellow shade, likely tainted by heavy drugs, but the hypnotic state of vampirism takes effect nonetheless. Zano starts to follow this odd couple around, not necessarily because he feels responsible for this freshly-turned vampire, but because he is entranced by Alice, and wishes to see where she’s going. She says she has to work, but she might just have a job Zano that would be great at. And with very few questions asked, Zano saunters and dances around Athens with Alice and Norway, unsure of where he is being led but enchanted by Alice’s attention and affection. After traversing tough streets and winding forests, this trio finds their way into a dark, dank cave. I won’t reveal who or what is waiting for Zano at the center of this remote cavern, but I will say it is a hell of a reveal after the semi-slow, meandering weirdness that it took to get there. It feels satisfying in ways and yet seemingly unfinished in others, and similar to Shadow of the Vampire, I would’ve loved it if even more had happened. Norway isn’t frightening or particularly freaky, but it is completely unique, and its big reveal at the end made the hallucinogenic, haphazard journey there worth it. And on top of its rewarding pay-off, it’s just a really cool-looking movie. Every frame seems to be color-graded through a yellow cloud of smoke, and every song that Zano dances and frolics to is electric and really fun. The writing was clever, the stylistic choices were creative, and I had a good time watching Zano just vibing and remaining terminally chill, even when he becomes fully immersed into this drug-addled, character-crowded Athens underworld. There is very little, dare I say, nothing, written about this film on the internet—which is extremely rare to experience. But the lack of details and answers surrounding Norway, and the production of it, only adds to the kooky, cool mysteries that it holds within it. If I’ve been hard on either of tonight’s two films, it’s only because I have such high standards for the vampire content I consume. Even the vampire stories I do not like—namely, Twilight (I’ve gotten over my middle school hatred but I still don’t fuck with it)—I at least have some kind of passionate feeling toward them. The combination of the animalistic with the human that is so essential to vampire lore, is so enticing and interesting and storied, that it should stir some kind of feeling in you (if you’re into that sorta thing) but neither of tonight’s films stirred me much, especially not Shadow of the Vampire. Nevertheless, I am always thankful to see a new spin on vampires—perhaps the oldest, most-established monster that exists within storytelling and pop culture—and at least these two films attempted to do something different. Well, that’s all the vampiric shenanigans I have time for this week, but thank you for taking a bite of these weird, bonkers stories about bros with a habit for bloodsucking. Talk to you next time, my nosferatus. 🧛