Thoughts On: “Four Sons” (1928)

I can hardly believe it, but this is my 600th published post! And it’s about a John Ford film with a WWI setting, one of those late-Twenties silents with gorgeous cinematography–not a bad milestone. Thank you all for your continued readership, especially as Silent-ology inches closer to its 10th (!) anniversary!

A couple weeks ago, midway between Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving, I watched John Ford’s feature Four Sons. It struck me that this was the perfect time to see it, since on one hand it was a loving portrait of a mother thankful for her simple life with her sons, and on the other hand it showed how their lives were forever affected by World War I. It also struck me that this kind of American WWI film likely would not been released 10 years earlier–in fact, even a hint of a film like this would probably have been taboo.

How Did “Nosferatu” Make It To The U.S.?

Happy Halloween, my friends! As a final spooky season post, I thought I’d investigate a question a reader brought up the other day: Just how did Nosferatu (1922) make it to the U.S.? If you’re familiar with the history of the film, after Bram Stoker’s widow Florence pitched a court battle royale over the film’s obvious plagiarism of Dracula, German courts ordered prints to be destroyed. That was back in the mid-1920s, after the case had dragged on for several years, even as Prana-Film declared bankruptcy–and yet Nosferatu supposedly premiered in the U.S. in 1929. So how did this happen?

Cinea, July 1 1922.

First, it’s useful to remind ourselves of the practical reality of how films travelled around in the silent era. Copies in the form of physical reels of film, stored in metal cans, were rented from film exchanges and run for a specific length of time before the cans were (hopefully) returned in decent enough condition. I know that sounds blindingly obvious, but we’re so used to seeing countless digital copies of movies floating about in the Internet ether that it can take a minute to remember that silent films had finite copies. Some studios (mainly during the 1920s) diligently rounded up copies once the run was over, but some did not. Sometimes theater owners stored them, and sometimes they just threw them away–there were always new films to show, after all.

Greta Schröder, The Quiet Heart Of “Nosferatu”

It’s always fascinating to get to know the people who made great movies. If they were lucky enough to create or star in the classics, the ones that have been poured over with a fine-tooth comb in dozens of books and documentaries and any film history course worth its salt, getting acquainted with them is easy enough. But you’d be surprised at who doesn’t get covered, even in the current year, even in the most famous and decidedly non-obscure films.

These were my thoughts while investigating Nosferatu‘s lead actress Greta Schröder. Her dark-rimmed eyes, pale face and dark curls are nearly as iconic as Max Schreck’s Count Orlok, and she had the distinction of playing the earliest surviving example of a screen heroine who defeats a vampire–and one who adds a bit of heart and pathos to the proceedings, too. As writer Simon Baker described her in Nosferatu in the 21st Century: “Greta Schröder’s eyes reflect the horror of haunted dreams, and her reluctant release of Hutter is made more poignant by the actress’s yielding posture and outstretched arms.” Having previously covered Gustav von Wangenheim, I naturally wanted to cover his costar too–but the research was like a puzzle missing 2/3 of its pieces.

A Century Of “Nosferatu” (1922)

As you sit down to sometime this weekend to enjoy the great German Expressionist classic Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (just a hunch, but something tells me you will!), keep in mind that 2022 has a special significance: it’s the 100th anniversary of this milestone piece of cinema!

Its “birthday” of sorts is technically March 4, 1922, when the studio Prana-Film hosted its grand premiere at the Marmorsaal (“marble hall”) of the Berlin Zoological Garden. It was released in German theaters on March 15, and then slowly made its way around the Netherlands, France, Estonia, a few other European countries…and that’s about it, until it was finally released in the U.K. in 1928 and the U.S. in 1929.

The Strange Saga Of “Nosferatu”

One of the few silent classics virtually anyone’s willing to watch, Nosferatu has been iconic practically since its release in 1922. The strange, hunched Count Orlok has a permanent place in cinema history, a unique pedestal that keeps him apart from the suave villains of later pop culture.

I’ve reviewed this gothic masterpiece before, but didn’t delve much into the details of how or why it was made. A few of you may already know the tale, with its background of modern art, WWI, occultism, flu epidemics, and gleeful copyright infringement. But if not, do read on. 

Thoughts On: “Nosferatu”

Why do we hold such reverence for Nosferatu? Why does a film with such simple special effects and occasionally humorous acting linger in our minds? Why, when Hollywood offers a wealth of svelte–even sexy–vampires, do we keep turning to the gaunt, bushy eyebrowed Count Orlok with his protruding rat teeth?

It must be more than simple curiosity to see one of our earliest vampire films, although that’s probably a big factor for many. According to some of my non-silents-accustomed friends, its style and film speed can make it effectively creepy. That said, I’ll admit that plenty of people find it hysterical.

Thoughts On Herzog’s “Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht” (1979)

To be unable to grow old is terrible… Death is not the worst… Can you imagine enduring centuries, experiencing each day the same futilities…

My favorite vampire film of all time happens to be an homage to film history’s most significant vampire film of all time. You could call it a remake, but the word doesn’t fit…”homage” is far more appropriate. And to use another appropriate word, it’s deeply haunting: Werner Herzog’s Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht (1979).

Thoughts On: Murnau’s “Faust” (1926)

I always kick off the month of October with this Expressionist masterpiece. I hope you enjoy it–or will enjoy it–as much as I do!

Some of the greatest silent films can be described as collective dreams. They capture familiar legends, familiar places, and certain eras. These films are Art, and Art doesn’t age, not the way many older movies do. One of these works of Art is F.W. Murnau’s Faust (1926), a masterpiece of fantasy that’s often overlooked in favor of other German Expressionist works–such as Murnau’s own Nosferatu. Strange, considering that did nothing less than draw upon some of the most iconic imagery of good vs. evil in the world.

Happy Birthday, Nosferatu! (A.K.A. Max)

On this day, 136 years ago, an actor was born who would one day embody the idea of brooding, creeping, sinister evil in a way that no film actor ever had before–or arguably ever did since. His last name even translates to “terror”–I kid you not (get thee to Google Translate!). Here’s a brief overview of the life of this remarkable presence: