Revisiting “Nosferatu” (1922)
I originally reviewed F.W. Murnau’s silent horror classic Nosferatu (1922) back in March 2008 — two years after starting this blog site, when I was three months pregnant with my oldest child. That daughter is now an 18-year-old adult taking a college class all about vampires (woot!). She asked me today if I would watch this movie with her, and I jumped at the chance.
(Spoiler alert: She watched Dracula [1931] last week with her class, and had to write about which adaptation she preferred; she chose that one over this.)
I first saw Nosferatu (1922) many, many years ago — sometime in the 1990s, most likely taped off of AMC (prior to the emergence of TCM), or perhaps I tried to go out and see it on a big screen somewhere. I can’t recall. At that time, I was frantically busy watching as many of Peary’s GFTFF titles as I could, trying to absorb the enormity of film history in a condensed and obsessive manner. I had convinced myself I couldn’t — or shouldn’t — “legitimately” write about movies until I was much more familiar with them vis-a-vis the arc of cinematic history; hence, waiting until 2006 (at the age of 32) to finally start this site.
Was that wise, or necessary? I’m not sure. But once I did jump into this project, I was committed to finally start recording all my reactions, and to engage in ongoing, explicit sensemaking-through-writing about the massive world of Cinema.
To that end, I’ve always appreciated the concept of recursivity in film viewing — that is, returning to a movie numerous times, and reflecting on how your views on it have changed alongside your own development. Peary seems to be a fan of this, too: his books are based (in part) on the idea of not only watching what’s new-and-exciting but revisiting older movies again and again — sometimes obsessively and repeatedly as a cult favorite, sometimes out of curiosity for how a childhood favorite has held up, sometimes because a film simply keeps showing up on television… My distinction here between “recursivity” and “rewatching,” by the way, is that it’s assumed with the former you won’t simply see and experience the same feelings each time; your response may shift. I’ve never had a great memory for details of movies, thus making it incredibly easy to re-enjoy something (or not) time and again; I think my novelty-seeking brain is too interested in seeking out new things to have space to hold on firmly to the old. My “poor” memory is actually one part of why I started this project: to archive my thoughts before they disappear, and have access to an entire trove of my own documented responses.
Recursivity can be generational as well. As I’ve discussed before on this site, how we view (and re-view) films has continued to evolve in ways that each previous generation may have found unfathomable — and yet, here we are, with my 18-year-old Gen Z daughter and her peers emerging as enthusiastic cinephiles (hurra!); maybe there will be a renewed interest in movie sites like this one. There are certainly many more video reviews now available on YouTube, which I enjoy checking out; I tried this myself and simply found it too time-consuming. My 16-year-old Gen Z son is fascinated by certain movies — Hundreds of Beavers (2022) is a title he insisted on going to see with us in the theater — and he’s almost always up to going to see a random classic film with me; for instance, we saw Raw Deal (1948) when it rolled into town as part of an annual Film Noir festival, and shook hands with host Eddie Mueller. My youngest (13-year-old, cusp Gen Z) isn’t (yet) a movie fan; she is obsessed with K-Pop, and that’s what we share during our time together.
Back to Nosferatu, when I re-read my original review, I noticed I hadn’t included too much detail, other than basics described by Peary in his GFTFF review (and now widely known about its origin story) — i.e., the film nearly being destroyed into oblivion after a successful law suit by Bram Stoker’s widow. This third visit allowed me to reflect on what it’s like watching a film over 100 years old, with all its actors, even the youngest, long gone.
Knowing it celebrated its centenary when COVID-19 was still raging in 2022 made the plague-driven plot elements especially eerie.
I talked out loud with my daughter while watching, having a bit of fun with elements of silent films that are undeniably archaic and often laughable — like overly expressive acting styles (though she added that today’s actors could use a bit more of this in their approach!).
She commented on the color shifts, and how the directing team clearly struggled to depict night-time (they simply used blue). We laughed when seeing the striped hyena posing as a wolf after Hutter is warned at the inn about the local “werewolf”.
She and I both lamented the clear anti-semitic overtones in Schreck’s prosthetic head-mask. (Yes, they are there.)
We struggled to discern some of the letters on the original title cards (specifically the capital H):
… and we oohed and aahed at the film’s most iconic images — this is the one that got her: “Okay, that’s cool” she said.
She talked quite a bit about narrative elements which differed from the novel, which I haven’t read since — well, since I was roughly her age; she pointed out, for instance, that Hutter “should” have been given a cross by the innskeeper to help him ward off Count Orlock.
She lamented the sacrifice of Hutter’s wife at the end, asking if I’d heard the term “fridging” — I hadn’t.
A closing side note: Though I try to keep up somewhat with newer cinematic releases (this is part of why I occasionally disappear from here — I’m busy with current titles), I hadn’t realized that Nosferatu (2024) was recently remade yet again, which surely has brought younger audiences back to this earlier version. In a lovely instance of recursivity, the cast includes Willem Dafoe, who played actor Max Schreck in Shadow of the Vampire (2000), itself a “meta-film” about Nosferatu.
Long live vampires — ha, bad pun. Seriously, though, they’re as popular as ever; here is one Letterboxd user’s chronological list of their presence in films. (Letterboxd is the latest film fanatics’ online gathering place.)
Speaking of which – long live obsessive film fanatics! We are here to stay.















































































































