Murnau's Nosferatu and the Otherworld of Stoker's Dracula

"Life is nothings"' - Bram Stoker Itbough ibe credits of F. W. Murnau's Nosferalif acknowledge Bram Stoker's Dracula as the fictional source of Henrik Galeen's screenplay,' most critics tend to dismiss any thematic connection between novel and Him. To Lane Roth, for instance, Nosfcmlu, tar from being "an individual filmmaker's vision of a literary work." is essentially "an expression of ihe tJerman 7.vii^cisi" ol'lhe Weimar Republic and, particularly, of the "mysticism and fantasy" that the expressionist Schauerj'ihn bad inherited from traditional German Romanticism (312-13). David Walker concurs, adding \.\\aiNosfera!u\ "teutonic flavor" actually undermines it as an "adaptation that best captures the spirit [of Oratw/al" (48). Such exclusively "Germanic" interpretations should not go unLjuestioned, however, for Murnau takes tnnre than just a few plol elements from Drattila. 1 intend to examine this issue, thereby redressing ibe balance in faviir of Stoker's influence by suggesting that Dracula offered Murnau a complex reworking t)f major Gothic motifs extracted from Germanic literature and culture. Arguably, then, what seems to have inspired Murnau to rework Dnuula on film was an awareness that Stoker had appropriated much of Murnau's own aesthetic

229

230/Mumau"s Nosferatu and the Otherworld of Stoker's Dracula affinities with the German Romantic spirit in his novel. In order to demon.strate how Murnau distills the Stimmimg or existential mood of German Romanticism through Stoker's influence, ! shall focus on two intermeshed aspects of what critics label I^osferalu's fantastic Germanness: absent presence and liminal landscape. As Angela Dalle Vacche rightly remarks, Mumau "slim[s] his protagonist down to an evanescent, flickering fragment of the German nocturnal imagination [. . .]" (182). Lloyd Michaels echoes her insight by observing that what distinguishes the Mumau and Herzog Nosferatus from other non-German film versions oi Dracula is that their vampire-counts, '[un]Iike their English-speaking counterparts [. . .| manage to signify elusiveness, rather than presence, lack rather than excess [...]" (68). The implication is that there is something innately Germanic about the motif of absent presence on which Murnau pivots his Nosferatu. and which he culturally bequeaths to Werner Herzog's 1979 remake. Conversely, it could be argued that Mumau inherited this bizarre theme from, say, Friedrich de la Motte Fouqu^, whose novel The Magic Ring epitomizes the German Romantic obsession with the shadowy self fragmenting into a more insubstantial parallel realm. Such a preoccupation with the ghostly double of a dislocated or dissolving personality is clearly an earlier manifestation of Helldunkei which Lotte H. Eisner defines as "a sort of twilight of the German soul" (8). In temis of Nosferatu as adaptation, however, this is only half the point. For absent presence is a reiterated theme in Dracula. That Nosferatu terrifies the Empusa's sailor by his diaphanous appearance owes, in fact, much less to such Hoffmann doppelgdnger tales as "The Story of the Lost Reflection" than to Stoker's description of the Demeter mate's ordeal with Dracula's physical vacuity: "On the watch last night I saw It, like a man. tall and thin, and ghastly pale. It was in the bows, and looking out. I crept behind It, and gave It my knife, but the knife went through It, empty as the air" (113). Such testimony confirms that Dracula's disappearing act before Olgaren's eyes is neither a product of madness on this sailor's part nor a trick of the dark, but rather Dracula's uncanny ability to be. and not to be, simultaneously. Evidently, then, what haunts the Empusa's holdan entity through whose insubstantiality stacked coffms are clearly visibleoriginates from what lurks on the Demeter\hovj\ the spectreof "noone"(112). The disclosure that Dracula's realm is darkly ethereal is funher proof that he is the literary prototype of Mumau's translucent count, ' i love the shade and the shadow" (32), Dracula tells Harker, whose initial encounter with him as the dark driver establishes the latter's physicality as one of immaterial materiality: "When he [Draculal stood between me and the flame he didn't obstruct it, for 1 could see its ghostly flicker all the same" (18). Gwenyth Hood implicitly draws attention to this incorporeal materiality in her comparison of J. R. R. Tolkien's Sauron with Stoker's vampire: "Unlike Dracula, he [Sauron] has completely lost his body |. . , |" (223). As retribution for having defied the ban of the Valar prohibiting the invasion of the Undying Lands. Sauron's fair physique dissolves into what Tolkien calls "a dark wind" (111, 317). Dracula is really no such evil discamate. Still. Dracula's is the body of no body, and thus what he most closely anticipates in Tolkien's world is what Patricia Meyer Spacks calls the "physical nothingness" (86) of the Nazguls or Ringwraiths. What the Black Riders, and indeed both Sauron and Nosferatu, inherit from Dracula then is his unholy holtowness. Hence Dracula's shadowlessness. Dracula, in Van Helsing's words, "throws no shadow [and] make[s] in the mirror no reflect" (289), further indicating that it is again in Stoker that Mumau finds his thematic justification for that startling shadow that renders Nosferatu so untypical of the Victorian Gothic vampire. The crucial point here is thai it is partially because of the shadow he casts that Nosferatu comes to embody the disembodiment of his shadowless counterpart. Nosferatu as shadow is, in fact, one of Mumau's ingenious ways of incarnating in visual images Stoker's verbal descriptions of what is visible but incorporeal. This is true especially of Nosferatu's preying scenes, where Hutter (Harker) and his wife have to contend with the swelling insubstantiality of a silhouette. While recognizing ihat Murnau clearly displays in such scenes "the taste for shadows" (133) that Eisner finds prevalent in "most film-makers of Germanic origin" (133), one cannot really endorse Roth's interpretation of Nosferatu's shadow as just an expressionistic

Mumau's

Otheruorld of Stoker's Dracula/231

manifestation of the Romantic literary doppelganger motif, whose source Roth traces to the "tradiiional Germanic preoccupation with Dualismus" (5). Judith Mayne delves deeper into such "dualistic categories of thought" in both Mumau and Stoker: "Central to both Dracula and Nosferatu [. . .| is a dangerous territory where opposing terms are not so easily distinguishable" (27). For Murnau's is essentially not a vision of polarities. Nor for that matter is Stoker's. Indeed, Nosferatu comes closest to Dracula in its appropriation of the central Stokerean notion that light is darkness. This motif is a vital variant of the "absent presence" theme in both novel and film. Consider, for instance, those two scenes depicting the Empusa captain's deserted cabin where Murnau's focal point is lilerally the most minima! of visual detailswhat Eisner accurately describes as "the reflection of the sustained, monotonous swinging of a suspended lamp" (105). Whai should be added, however, is that the lamplight subtly evokes by iis sudden abrupt shifting the vampire's jerky movement, thereby hinting at Nosferatu's ethereal presence in the cabin. Nosferatu powerfully exemplifies Murnau'.s "cinema of thin air" (15). as Gilberto Perez insightfully labels it, through such haunting moments as this one when the ethereal darkness that heralds Nosferatu's rattish entry into Ellen's (Mina's) bedroom suddenly becomes a wild oscillation of light. Gregory A. Waller seems therefore off the mark when he writes ihni "in No.'iferatu. opening a door or window is an action [.. .| thai creates the possibility for (. . .] letting in the sunlight and letting in infection and darkness" (182). For Murnau conceives light in tenebrous terms, and dawn becoine.s no less deadly than twilightas the vampire's sunlit death dramatically demonstrates, Mumau could have hardly conceived a more elementally fitting demise for his vampire of dark light than this change from Dracula's death by impalement of the heart to Nosferatu's dissolution by the sun. Mumau's denouement may be superior to Stoker's but this in no way minimizes, however, what theGemian film owes lo Dracidu. For the concept of the "dark light" vampire is Stoker's. It would be best, in fact, to emphasize that ihe three vampiresses at Castle Dracula are. significantly, spectres of dark light when first they gleam on Harker's sight. Indeed, what alarms Harker terribly is that their "phantom shapes become [...) gradually materialised from the moonbeams" (60); and much to his amazement, they again "fade into the rays of the moonlight" (53) after their visitation. Rather than simply deleting Stoker's vampiresses, then. Murnau righlly appropriates for Nosferatu their "moonlight" properties as a means of recreating Van Helsing's vision of the vampiric ct)unt "comling]" on moonlight rays as

232/Mumau's Nosferatu and the Otherworld of Stoker's Dracula

elemental dust" (290). Such Stokerean images are also evidently the source of Nosferatu's weird and allegorized surrogate: the polyp that Professor Bulwer, the film's noncmsading Van Helsing, presents as evidence of a preying force that is paradoxically a visible invisibility, "transparent. .. almost incorporeal . . .almost a phantom"(252). If Nosferatu is viewed in terms of Andre Bazin's imprint concept of the cinematic image as a kind of death-mask moulding through light manipulation (12), one might say that what Mumau imprints on screen is Dracula's insubstantial substantiality. Nosferatu is almost the quintessence of Dracula's evanescence: an ethereal manifestation of that "unmirrorable image" (74) that David Glover rightly labels "physiognomy's tme vanishing point" (74). Hence Mumau's reliance in the latter half of his film on high-angled long shots that establish quite disturbingly the viewpoint of something unseen hovering over the Bremen streets. As Perez says of Nosferatu's sightlessness: "His presence is felt in the air" (19), much like Dracula's is in Whitby, where old Mr. Swales draws Mina's attention to it in words of eerie poetry: "Maybe it's in that wind out of the sea that's bdngin' with it loss and wreck, and sore distress, and sad hearts. Look! look! 1. . .] there's something in that wind and in that hoast beyont that sounds, and looks, and tastes, and smells like death. It's in the air" (99). Just like Dracula in Whitby. Nosferatu in Bremen is essentially a flitting iiminality. What Nosferatu crucially shares with Dracula is this threshold kind of existence: they are borderers or liminal figures helplessly hedged between the seen and the unseen. Significantly, while edging into Ellen's sight, Nosferatu manifests invisibly in terms of a symbology of infinity, which finds embodiment in the illimitable seascape Ellen scans from the beach cemetery where she stands. Dalle Vacche roots this culturally in the influence on Mumau of David Caspar Friedrich's "elegiac or sublime" (171) marine painting, and specifically of The Monk by the Sea (1809-1810). That Mumau shares Friedrich's aesthetic preoccupation with "mak[ing| visible the invisible" (168), as Dalle Vacche rightly puts it, can hardly be denied. It is, however, highly debatable as to what extent Ihis shared concern is simply the result, as Dalle Vacche suggests, of Carl Neuman, Mumau's art mentor at Heidelberg, having convinced his pupil that he should concern himself "with what makes German art German" (165). Notwithstanding the likelihood of such Wolflinian nationalistic aesthetic tendencies (164-65), Mumau's beach scene ultimately owes its inspiration to Stokerand not to Friedrich. What is truly at stake here is that Mumau's Ellen only seemingly shares Friedrich's monk's marine edge-for the awe of the "hollow space" (17), to quote Perez's phrase, that she confronts at this existential border, recalls not Friedrich's monk but Mina Harker. Mina is not only another RUckenftgur. but also one whose scrying of the seascape from an equally liminal location, the churchyard cliff at Whitby, powerfully portends in terms of Burkean limitlessness the horror vacui of her German equivalent. As Mina notes in her joumal: "The horizon is lost in a grey mist. All is vastness; the clouds are piled up like giant rocks, and there is a 'brool' over the sea that sounds like some presage of doom" (98). As in Mumau's beach scene, the terror of the Stokerean Undead is all the more invisibly grand because it is not visually affirmed. It is evident that it is to Stoker's seascape of unrelieved greyness, and not to Friedrich's darker sea redeemed by intimations of immortality through seagulls on the wing, that Mumau owes the sublimity of the vampire's vacuity. It is rather strange then that Dalle Vacche should pivot her Murnau/Friedrich beach parallel on the following quotation from Joseph Leo Koemer: "Friedrich empties his canvas in order to imagine, through an invocation of the void, an infinite, unrepresentable God" (16). What Koemer's trenchant comment recalls to mind, rather, is Friedrich's Wordsworthian pantheistic statement: "The divine is everywhere, even in a graiti of sand; there I represented it in the reeds" (16),' The Wordsworthian echo is unmistakable, for Friedrich's vision of ubiquitous divinity is not dissimilar to what "Tintem Abbey" extolsthe "spirit rolUing] through all things" (II. I(X), 102;262).^Significantly, what Friedrich's/^wrfeffi/igHr evokes in this respect is what Koemer calls Wordsworth's "halted traveller" (183) since both are figures in an epiphanic landscape where what remains visually out of reach is a nevertheless immanent divinity. As Charles Sala states, what we have in Friedrich is "land-

Murnau's Nosferatu and the Otherworid of Stoker's DracuIa/233 scape as spiritual hierograph" (78), But what Friedrich says about his painting Swans in the Rushes (c. 1819-1820), and particularly about the divine essence of his reeds, is in no way applicable to the reedy dunes of Murnau's beach. Admittedly. Murnau's seascape, like Friedrich's in The Monk hy the Sea, is a meditation on spatial vacuity; but what Mumau's void leaves unrepresented is not a divine transcendence but its inverted presence or what may be termed an anti-divine state. Murnaii's Nosferatu incarnates in ihis respect S. L. Vamado's concept of his Stokerean progenitor as the embodiment of Rudolf Otto's "negative numinous" (Varnado 101-02)." Hence Mumau's tottering crosses, which suggest that the "contamination" (8) Robin Wood rightly detects in Mumau's beach scene, with its promise of sea-home pestilential coffins, is essentially a malaise of the spirit, Mumau inverts the traditional association of the sea with what Wood calls "purity, or purification" (8). rooting the point of liminality in a beach cemetery. To conclude, however, as Rona Llnrau does, that what therefore concems Murnau is not Stoker's "fear of becoming Un-Dead"(236) but "fear of human extinction [or] mortality" (236-37) a feature she finds "typically German" (237)is to simplify both film and novel. What is central in both Murnau and Stoker is not fear of the Undead, of being in an absent present state, but the ambivalent attraction/repulsion that such a state elicits in mortals. Significantly, though Harker shares none ofhis filmic counterpart's interest in the vampire's coffined body, but simply his revulsion. Mutter's advancing/retreating movements in the "crypt coffin" sequence are as explicitly at cross purposes as Lucy's repeatedly clutching and dropping the antivampiric garlic in Stoker's novel. Wood rightly intuits that, no less than Nosfcriilu. Draciihi is "about the human fear of death" (16),' for it is fundamentally such a fear that determines the attraction/repulsion complex in both Mumau and Stoker, The vampire attracts and repulses simultaneously by offering immortality to nonliving entities. Hence the absent presence and its mesmerizing/terrifying influence on Ellen, But Ellen's sea vigil is set on a Stokerean beach of graves, since Death is equally the,^fH/H.v/cc/ of Whitby, More thematically apposite in this context is the visual parallel Dalle Vacche draws in temis of "spectral quality" (164) between the image of Nosferatu crossing a Bremen canal in a boat "which glides across the water by itself (164) and Amold Bocklin's barge scene in the painting The Isle of the Dead (1880). For Mumau's Ellen, as has been stated, is sublimely perched on the edge of a seat of death that the unseen Nosferatu navigates like the Stygian ferryman. But once again. Mumau's vision of Nosferatu's ship as a seif-sieered Charon skiff recalls Stoker rather than Bockiinfor Dracula's "strange ship" (100), riding the gales beyond Mina's ga/e, is, unlike Bocklin's barge of death, supernaturally steered like the ghostly galleon in Cokridgc'fi Rime of rhe Ancienl Mariner. As Devendra P, Varma observes: "in its voyage from Varna to Whitby the Miiterial Ship tums into a Phantom Ship" (211), There is, however, no supematural navigation in Bocklin's 1880painting, which Dalle Vacche reproduces in her text, nor for that matter, in any other version of The hie of the Dead. Every element, then, in both the canal and beach scenes points to Stoker's Draciila as the major source of Mumau's uncanny vision. The very name of Stoker's ship, Demcter. reinforces, for instance, Evans Lansing Smith's reading of Murnau's vessel as "the mother of Death" (243). since "Demetcr is the name of the motherof Persephone whose yearly abduction into Hades" (243) leaves an absent presence in its wake. Even the way old Swales describes Dracula's ship when he glimpses it"steered mighty strangely |, . .] changes about with every puff of wind" (I(X))prefigures visually Murnau's wildly shifting patch of light in the captain's cabin. As James Craig Holte as,serts: "No other adaptation of DracuUi has captured the terror of the discovery of evil aboard an isolated vessel as effectively as Nosferalu" (32), Here, as elsewhere, what really haunts Murnau is Stoker's nadci. Indeed. rather than pondering on divine imponderables as Friedrich does in the alleged self-portrait of the sea monk, Murnau's Ellen surveys the abysmal absence of the selffor when Friedrich's spiritual horizon disappears, what then appears is the horizon of soullessness. Ellen is then not fundamentally different to her Stokerean equivalent whose experience at Whitby cliff similarly reveals the nothingness beneath her feet. True, Stoker refrains frotn

234/Mumau's Nosferaiu and the Othenvorld of Stoker's Dracula tossing Mina over the edge, but it is still to Stoker, and not to Friedrlch. that Mumau owes his inspiration for Ellen's plunge into perdition. Nosferatu recreates Dracula in the sense that it propels Stoker's text onto what both the Victorian novelist and Weimar filmmaker anticipate: the Heideggerian/Sartrean vision of the nothingness of being. Mumau's unsettling journey into the darkest of existential iiminal territories is essentially a voyage into the Stokerean nothing: and this is further evidenced by Hutter's phantasmal coach ride that Dalle Vacche associates exclusively with Gernian Romantic expressionist painting: "Hutter's cross[ing] into the land of phantoms [. . .| provides a possible reference to Alfred Kubin's fantasticpicturesofcoaches travelling through the forest | , . . ] " (170). Admittedly, what Thomas Elsaesser notes about Albin Grau. that he was "a friend of novelist-painter Alfred Kubin" (13), seems to validate such intriguing attempts to trace the negative or reversed phantom carriage sequence to the coach drawings of Kubin. For it was Grau who designed the film's costumes and decor for Murnau. Quite understandably, then, Michel Bouvier and J. L, Leutrat go further than Dalle Vacche and actually suggest that Mumau's source could be Kubin's The Road to Zwickledt (323).'* It should be noted, however, that though Murnau's negative image transforms Galeen's "fairy-tale forest" (Murnau 242) into a Mdrchenwald of spectral paleness, it still retains the carriage's blackness, thereby differentiating the latter frum Kubin's Zwicklcdi moonlit equivalent. Ironically, It is Mumau's carriage sequence with its reversal of what Bert Cardullo calls "the usual positions of light and shadow on objects" (29) that creates the "chaos of light and shadow"{ 18) in which, as Eisner says, Kubin usually excels. What Murnau charts through the progress of the black caleche is a geography of unearth I i ness. For the coach's startling unbleached appearance in a completely bleached landscape hints at a realm that transcends the eerie forest of Kubin to evoke the Iiminal portal of Stoker. What the carriage's saccadic or fast-motion rhythm suggests, in fact, is the chilling line which, as Diane Milbum rightly notes. Stoker "slightly misquote[s]" (45) from Burger's ballad "Lenore": "For the dead travel fast" (15). Significantly, Murnau's carriage plunges into the descent of no retum by accelerating to the spirit speed of its Stokerean counterpart at the Borgo Passthai equally bizarre border of paradoxes where a Zeno-likc trajectory of "straight road[s]" (16) takes Harker's caliche "over and over the same ground again" (16), Again, despite the intriguing paiallels David B. Dickens draws between Lenore's "midnight ride" (i36r and Harker's, with their shared pretematural celerity that makes "time race [. . .] past [while] also seem[ing] interminable" (136). the nightmarish spatiality of Burger's road ballad, like that of Goethe's "The Erl King" that it prefigures, lacks the antithetical Stokerean motif of journeying in linear circles. So does Goethe's Fauaifor though its Mephistopheles does mention the damnation of "endless circles" (34),'" as Dickens quoting Leonard Wolf re-emphasizes (16 n.58), such circular movement differs radically from Harker's whose fate is to circulate by travelling straigbt. Such is the Stokerean road to nowherewhat Clive Leatherdale calls a "dream-like unreality" (169)that leads Harker to the invisible approach to Castle Dracula. Mumau similarly shows a path where there is none by subjecting Hutter to a joumey conceived as "unmappable in lits) contours" (93)" a joumey in negative images whose inverted chiaroscuro properties hint at phantomland unseen, or what Perez filmically calls "the space off screen" (16). The right realm, one would say. for an absent present wraith: the realm of the "out of frame" (16), to use again Perez's phrase. In Derridean terms, Nosferatu excels because it recreates Stoker's verbal text (where, as Glover states, what matters is "matter out of place" [711) in an out-of-filmic text, beyond the frame: the hors-champ is virtually its (un)seen world. The source of this extraordinary achievement remains Stoker's less experimental novel, however, with its alluring Iwilit liminality blurring worldly and otherworldly states of being. Consider, as a final example, how Murnau transfonns the Dracula/Lucy tryst at Whitby. with its full moon highlighting their odd whiteness, into the odder unreality of a white night scene: Hutter's carriage ride through the white forest of phantom night. Intensely uncompromising in its stunning metamorphosis of Stoker's vision, Nosferatu remains, as Mayne says, "almost resolutely in [.. .1 twilight" (28). Still Dracw/a's "setting sun" (443) ending is not devoid of

Mumau's Nosferatu and the Otherworid of Stoker's Oraaila/235 twilight associations. If, as Eisner states, "[tlhe German soul instinctively prefers twilight to daylight" (? I). so does Stoker who. like Murnau, distills his art through a Gothic grisaille. Saviour Catania University of Malta Notes
' See Brajn Sloker, The F.r.seiuiul Praailti. edited ant) anmitiiled by Leonard Wolf (New Yiirk: I'liirtif, I W 3 | 287, Lics to this iMiitiun are given uftcr quotations in the tc. ' All references lo Murnaii's Nnsferaiu are in the Redemption videocosseiie copy ol the film ' Grtrud Mander's iraniilaiinn nf Galecn's scripl fur Nasfenilu is included in Eisner's Mumau 227-72.
' C i t e d in Km-riiiT lf>

' See Wordsworth's poem in Oe Sclinciiiirl 262, ''For an insighiful anulysi)> of Draeula a^t u Vicioritin specimen of the "negative numinous." s(.*c Vamado 101-02. ' See also Wheeler's commenis on Philippe Afits's anutysis of the Victorian dread of physical exlinction. 32-33. * See illustration in Bouvier and Leutral 323, ' See also Ruther's comtnents on German and English "vampiric 'cross-feriili/ation.'" 5S, '" See Dic-kens's aniclc in Miller .tl-40, " See Shepard 93.

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- - -. "Buiying the Uniiead: The Use and CAsolescente of Count Dracula" Mosaic 16 (1983): 175-87. Wordsworth, William. Tintem Abbey" Ihe hvtiiat Clairndon, 1952 259-63 Works of William Wttrdstt-onh. Ed. E. De Sclincoun. Osford: