In Herzog's Nosferatu, the color cinematography seeps into your pores just looking at it. It's vivid, oily, both real and illusory. Things look cold and dirty. There isn't a lot of green, and it looks wet. Interiors are filmed in bold reds, browns and whites. It's a film of remarkable visual creepiness.
There's always something intimidating and awe-inspiring in Herzog's portraiture of the world. And here, shadows truly convey fear. The provincial bumpkins that Jonathan Harker meets en route to Dracula's castle are not quaint or idiosyncratic. They recoil from him. Herzog takes his time before first showing Dracula. He sets the stage with words and looks from people who can't believe he's seeking the Count.
Bruno Ganz, some 25 years before playing Hitler, owns the first third of the movie, playing Harker. His pilgrimage takes a lot more time than in the many other movies based on the Dracula legend. Herzog takes his time heightening anticipation before Dracula's entrance.
And once Klaus Kinski's Count does appear, it then takes some time getting over how he appears. He looks more like a bat than a person. His face and bald skull are pure white. His fingernails are spears, his ears are pointed, his eyes are deep-set. In most movies Dracula's fangs are longer versions of the ones we all have. Here, there can be no mistaking them in the center of his mouth.
Herzog is the most original of filmmakers, not much prone to remakes. Why was he beckoned to remake one of the most iconic and legendary silent films? I think it was mainly because he had Klaus Kinski. Opposite him is cast Isabelle Adjani, a French beauty whose angelic looks provide a virginal target for Dracula's fangs.
But their performances aren't so much honed to perfection as they are products of having been born to play these figures in this story. Nosferatu is genuinely creepy largely owing to Herzog's command of the color palate, his offbeat compositions and expressive contrast of light and dark. Nosferatu is a film that does justice to the corporal substance of vampires. If they were for real, this is how they would look.
There's always something intimidating and awe-inspiring in Herzog's portraiture of the world. And here, shadows truly convey fear. The provincial bumpkins that Jonathan Harker meets en route to Dracula's castle are not quaint or idiosyncratic. They recoil from him. Herzog takes his time before first showing Dracula. He sets the stage with words and looks from people who can't believe he's seeking the Count.
Bruno Ganz, some 25 years before playing Hitler, owns the first third of the movie, playing Harker. His pilgrimage takes a lot more time than in the many other movies based on the Dracula legend. Herzog takes his time heightening anticipation before Dracula's entrance.
And once Klaus Kinski's Count does appear, it then takes some time getting over how he appears. He looks more like a bat than a person. His face and bald skull are pure white. His fingernails are spears, his ears are pointed, his eyes are deep-set. In most movies Dracula's fangs are longer versions of the ones we all have. Here, there can be no mistaking them in the center of his mouth.
Herzog is the most original of filmmakers, not much prone to remakes. Why was he beckoned to remake one of the most iconic and legendary silent films? I think it was mainly because he had Klaus Kinski. Opposite him is cast Isabelle Adjani, a French beauty whose angelic looks provide a virginal target for Dracula's fangs.
But their performances aren't so much honed to perfection as they are products of having been born to play these figures in this story. Nosferatu is genuinely creepy largely owing to Herzog's command of the color palate, his offbeat compositions and expressive contrast of light and dark. Nosferatu is a film that does justice to the corporal substance of vampires. If they were for real, this is how they would look.