Alex Dawson of the Raconteur gives Metuchen Matters the lowdown on his new adaptation of NOSFERATU at Middlesex County College, opening this weekend:
I've always been a werewolf man.
For three Halloweens running, from second to fifth grade, I loped and howled, I
blackened my nose and did my best, with fake fur and crepe wool, to imitate the
yak fro of Lon Chaney's Wolf Man. My stepfather was a trapper (I grew up on a
farm in Alabama), and one year I even hung gray pelts, rabbit and squirrel,
from the shoulders and chest of my costume (I kid you not). But no one cares
about werewolves. Vampires, on the other hand, are everywhere. Long the staple
of fringe culture (genre fiction, comic books, B movies, Goth clubs), they have
since permeated the mainstream. Indeed, Sookie Stackhouse scribe Charlaine
Harris is the first author to have eight novels concurrently in the top ten,
and, just this week, scientists discovered a new fanged fish which they named,
you guessed it, Dracula.
But before Twilight and True
Blood, before Dracula even, there was Nosferatu. Nosferatu
is a 1923 German Expressionist film by F.W. Murnau (one of the most influential
directors of the silent era). Released ten years before the iconic Bela Lugosi
movie, Nosferatu a.k.a. Count Orlock is sometimes labeled "The
First Vampire." Dracula is handsome and aristocratic, a satin lined cape and
hair as black and shiny as the back of a beetle; Orlock, quite simply, is not. But this physical distinction, while
the most obvious, is decidedly superficial. On the other hand, the addition of
the bubonic rats, which Orlock shepherds and, with his medial incisors,
resembles, is profound. The vermin tie Nosferatu to the Black Death,
couching the story in world history and suggesting an epic context that Dracula,
I don't think, has. But it's a silent film, the plague references are brief and
few, just a handful of exclamatory title cards ("The plague!"); the context
needed cultivating.
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