The Vault: Unearthing Forgotten Films (…So You Don’t Have To!)

26th January 2014

By Sebastian Skelton.

Shadow of the Vampire (2000)

Here’s the basic premise to E. Elias Merhige’s Shadow of the Vampire: what if the seminal 1922 F.W Murnau masterpiece Nosferatu was actually filmed using a real vampire?

As far as concepts go, it’s an interesting one as it essentially plays as a dramatised ‘making of’ Nosferatu with an additional fictionalised horror element thrown in. It’s a treat for fans to see many classic scenes recreated (and often subverted) but the execution of the concept does get a bit a wobbly the longer the story goes on.

Only the director knows that Count Orlok is a real vampire and convinces the rest of the cast and crew that “Max Schreck” (the name of the real actor who played him) does things strictly method – he will remain in character at all times and only appear when needed to shoot a scene. As various members of the cast and crew mysteriously start dropping like flies, the (ahem) stakes get increasingly higher.

Aside from the actual concept, the reason that most people will likely be interested in revisiting this is fir the casting and the performances. It features the likes of Eddie Izzard and Catherine McCormack as the actors of the film being shot (great scenes of them recreating moments in Nosferatu via their exaggerated ‘silent’ performances), Cary Elwes as a hotshot DP and Udo Kier as the producer Albin Grau. Note: Udo Kier automatically makes any film better – especially if it involves vampires.

So far so good, but the real draw here are the two leads: John Malkovitch as the obsessed director Murnau and Willem Dafoe as the vampire. Despite being terrible at accents (for another example check out his ‘Russian’ drawl as Teddy KGB in Rounders) Malkovitch is a commanding presence onscreen, bringing just the right amount of madness portraying a crazed auteur who will go to any lengths to get his film finished the way he wants. His best scenes involve him giving directions to his actors whilst wearing goggles and cranking his camera, utterly fixated in his work. He is a man so obsessed with his vision it is he that ultimately becomes the monster.

On the flipside, the monster (playing at being a man playing a monster) is memorably played by Willem Dafoe. His effective recreation of the gaunt, bald, long-nailed and rat-toothed Orlok that helped make Nosferatu so iconic is startling. He has an unconventional look anyway, but combined with the make-up, wardrobe, weird animalistic mannerisms and sneering speech – he is easily the best thing about this film. In fact, this role got him nominated for both an Oscar and a Golden Globe for best supporting actor that year (he sadly won neither), but he was cast as the Green Goblin in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man (2002) as a direct result of this performance.

His portrayal is that of an ancient and monstrous being (a far cry from the glittery vampires of today’s popular culture) who, in a direct contrast to Murnau, starts as a monster but occasionally shows glimpses of that lost humanity (marvelling at seeing images of a sunrise on film or sharing a drink with other members of the crew around a campfire). It’s a shame then that instead of going all the way and making him the tragic hero of the piece, his evil nature gets the better of him and he ends up dying a movie monster’s death.

The uncertain tone of the movie also occasionally serves to undermine itself. For the most part it’s a slow burning drama, but the occasional moments of awkward comedy clash with the atmospheric horror that the film is also trying to accomplish. The end result is that it really works as neither.

There are the myriad of different accents across the board from the actors, subplots that aren’t properly addressed and some pacing issues that will have modern audiences losing attention very quickly (even the opening credit sequence can be a challenge to patiently sit through) and yet the film still remains oddly compelling and occasionally even poetic.

Aside for fans of the Nosferatu (or indeed Willem Dafoe) it’s hard to recommend Shadow of the Vampire and will likely be remembered simply as a ‘what if’ curio rather than an unmissable classic.

Plus, the inclusion of Udo Kier automatically makes every film better.

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