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.

“But Are The Shadows Painted?”–Some Thoughts On “True” German Expressionism

October being the prime time of the year to rewatch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (and write about it here on Silent-ology!), while soaking it in recently I was struck again by how perfectly the story blends with its niche art design. Taking an avant-garde style from one medium–in this case mainly the stage–and translating it to a very different medium was no small feat. I’ve argued before that I’m not too sure about Caligari’s “bookend scenes,” since in my opinion, they imply the German Expressionism style is more of a gimmick than a style working hand-in-hand with the story. But whether you agree with that or not (and most people seem to like those scenes), the film as a whole just works.

And it’s such a beautiful film too, in its own strange way. The budget may have been small and the set materials just cardboard and paint, but good heavens they put a lot of thought into the details of each scene. The balance of dark and light surfaces, the creative use of perspective, even the way the actual lighting (less flat than other German Expressionist films) might play with the painted shadows in the background–it’s all such a treat for the eyes.

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.

Who Was Gustav Von Wangenheim?

Nosferatu (1922) fans such as myself (and, hopefully, yourself) are highly aware of its iconic status, its gothic cinematography, and its limitless ways to inspire today’s filmmakers. It may not be as jump-out-of-your-seat scary as some later horror films, but we highly appreciate how it broke ground and managed to create a beautifully haunting atmosphere.

Oh, and we’re also well aware of this guy:

Yup, that guy.

This acquired taste in human form is Gustav von Wangenheim, the source of a few unintentional chuckles in the early scenes of the movie. But maybe that’s a little harsh. As I wrote in my Nosferatu review, Gustav’s babyface and habit of laughing just a little too long actually make his later scenes with Count Orlok pretty effective–if a character that happy-go-lucky starts getting scared, it must be for a good reason.

In fact, his acting left enough of an impression that I decided to take a closer look at this young actor. How did he come to star in Nosferatu, and what happened to him thereafter?

Let’s just say his story…threw me for a loop.

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. 

12 Spooky Films I Watch Every October

To kick off the sacred Halloween Time, here’s a listicle that I thought would be fun. Like countless others, I love watching classic horror films around Halloween (spooky, atmospheric ones, not those gory slasher films), and there are certain classics that make up my “must see” list. Now, these aren’t just twelve films I watch every October. Oh no, these are twelve films I have to watch religiously every October, or Halloween will be RUINED (maybe). Plot twist: just a few of them are silent, mainly because I had to narrow the list down to twelve.

12. The Cat and the Canary (1927)

6 Silent-Related Locations Still On My Bucket List

So thanks to several carefully-planned Hollywood trips, I’ve been very fortunate to visit some really cool silent-related locations, such as the site of the former Keystone studio, Grauman’s Chinese Theater, the Roosevelt Hotel, the Chaplin studio, Buster Keaton’s gravesite, the Egyptian Theatre, Musso & Frank’s, and the closest a stranger can legally get to Buster’s Italian Villa.

About this close (before the guard comes out).

I’ve also had priceless experiences at both the Buster Keaton Convention in Muskegon, Michigan and the San Francisco Silent Film Festival. For a classic film lover, each and every one of these experiences was a dream come true–from the big festivals to the little moments like relaxing in L.A.’s Echo Park and thinking, “That’s the same lake all those Keystone comedians had to jump into!”

If the water wasn’t…questionable, I would totally jump in too.

But there’s still several places I’m bound and determined to visit one day, and as of right now these sites are in my top 6:

A Halloween Post Roundup!

Happy Hallowe’en, everyone!

This wonderful illustration is from Dennison’s Bogie Book, a book of Halloween decoration and party ideas that seems to have been published every year, with updates I presume. This comes from the 1925 edition–isn’t it priceless? Here’s another  illustration:

To celebrate this spooky holiday, here’s a roundup of all my Halloween-inspired posts from the past. Counting my posts from this month, this includes the films: