Becoming Nosferatu anthology offers prose, poetry on German silent horror

 

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Review by Doug Gibson

It's been almost six months since the 2024 Robert Eggers' film version of "Nosferatu" (reviews here and here) enjoyed strong success at the box office. The film was mostly faithful to F.W. Murnau's interpretation of the vampire, and enhanced the monster's connection to its prey Ellen Hutter.

Academics Matthew Sorrento and Gary D. Rhodes have edited -- and contributed stories to -- a new anthology, "Becoming Nosferatu: Stories Inspired By Silent German Horror," Bearmanor Media, 2025. Mostly stories, along with poetry, the book includes takes on several era icons, including Caligari, Dr. Mabuse, "M," "The Golem," "Vampyr," Metropolis" and "Nosferatu." Some of the tales are set in the past; others in more current times. Some of the tales are serious; some are comedic, others satirical. Some stories find contemporary parallels.

When I review art, I resist the urge to search for passages that support my biases. I'm just looking for a great read. Despite its not-too-subtle political message, I quite enjoyed Robert Guffey's novella "The Land of Thieves and Phantoms." Set in modern times in California's Inland Empire (an area that can be considered remote albeit in California), a charismatic preacher-type pol named Henry Orlok runs for mayor of Lake Wisborg, a small community.

Although not particularly aesthetically attractive, he soon commands widespread support. Two acolytes include a schoolteacher named Ellen and a realtor named Knock. Orlok rallies the town against a longstanding cleric and a peaceful baker whose name and business create unfortunate anagrams. Orlok and supporters eventually force out the town's power structure. 

Guffey effectively weaves a town of individuals manipulated by fear, nativism, prejudice, a longing for security, and a desire to find scapegoats. He provides vampire tendencies from Orlok and convert-like zeal from his conquests. However, more subtle is that dark habits already within his converts are allowed to flourish. A mean-spirited, perverted teacher-turned librarian is given new life to persecute. A conformist businessman easily turns allegiances to Orlok despite the harm to others. Unrepentent, he frankly admits to the persecuted baker that he personally has nothing against him. 

I won't give away the story's finale but it explores the totalitarian tendency to safely rehabilitate -- after their death and/or destruction -- the reputations of those destroyed.

Another story, a witty satirical tale, "Totenkopf," by Rhodes, involves a private detective, Jack Six, from Hollywood but now moving through Europe on assignment searching for the skull of the late director F.W. Murnau. As narrator Six admits, he's a conflicted soul. "... there were two of me, one investigating the Murnau case, the other investigating the me that was investigating the Murnau case." 

Jack Six's well-funded case moves him through conversations with ghosts, including Forry Ackerman, pining for Pola Negi, passages of Louise Brooks, and help from contemporaries, including Bela Lugosi biographer Robert Cremer. He moves through, bars, seances, hotel rooms, Ubers, cemetaries and cities in his quest. It's a fun read for genre fans. It kind of reminded me of Charles Bukowski's final novel "Pulp," where a jaded private eye searches for death.

One more Nosferatu-influenced story I'll mention is Argyle Goolsby's "Serpent on the Lace," a short tale that effective captures the mood and drama of Ellen Hutter's doomed but successful entrapment and destruction of the vampire.

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"The Good Doctor: An Editorial," by John Talbird, is a brief story that conveys the experience of those unfortunate patients submerged in a Caligari brain fog. 

I enjoyed Charles Rammelkamp's three stories. Two,"Der Golem," and Return of der Golem," provide the point of view of the monster, particularly his unrequited love for Jessica, and later another women.

Sorrento has a story, from the "Metropolis" section, "The Watcher," that traces the evolution and manipulation of an adolescent. Initially fascinated by street games, Julian becomes the protege of a Tall Man who leads him into a world of illegal boxing clubs, and punishment for gamblers. The youngster's name eventually changes.

I enjoyed a story "Yours Alraune," (from the 1928 film "Alraune"), by Martyn Pedler and Alexandra Heller-Nicholas. A beautiful young woman named Alraune exchanges letters with film star Brigitte Helm, now an old woman. The two reveal a contrast of the younger woman, defining Helm by her films, and Helm's responses, which provide clarity and a realism and wisdom the younger woman will presumably attain.

"Mabuse's Last Scheme." by Jeffrey Ford, ("Dr. Mabuse the Gambler," 1922) is a good read with a fantastic ending. 

A poem, "Soul of Frankenstein," by Donald F. Glut, stuck with me. It's an eloquent, beautifully composed summary of the iconic novel.

Sorrento and Rhodes have done a fine job culling and editing stories that underscore the expressionist films this anthology pays homage to. I honestly enjoyed every story and poem. The anthology can be enjoyed by those in the know of the silent horror genre. And the stories can serve as inspiration -- for those unfamiliar with the film genre -- to appreciate the films.

Editor's note: To read an excellent analysis of the 2024 "Nosferatu' from Rhodes, go here.

Cat and the Canary an early haunted house film

By Doug Gibson

“The Cat and the Canary,” a 1927 silent from Universal, directed by Paul Leni, a student of the German expressionist school, is a fun spooky/silly horror/comedy. It’s based on stage plays of that era — the 1920s — that were popular, with spooky forbidding mansions, red herrings, young lovelies in peril, bumbling cops, and homicidal maniacs. While “The Cat and the Canary” is a reaction to what was popular 85 years ago, it also over time is the genesis of many of the cliches that horror film viewers expect from haunted houses for at least two generations after the film.

There’s the forbidding mansion in a state of decay, the ominous housekeeper, the deceased, crazy-in-life owner who has gathered his heirs to the mansion for a reading of his crazed will. There’s the collection of eccentric relatives, including a young lovely and a bumbling good guy who has a crush on the lady. There’s the stereotypical murder, a killer on the loose, and escaped madman, a bumbling cop or two, a sinister doctor, a creepy lawyer, and a couple of other oddballs thrown in for good measure.

That’s essentially the plot of “The Cat and the Canary.” Twenty years after crazy old rich Cyrus West dies, he gathers, by his command, his heirs to the mansion. They include the young lovely Annabelle West (Laura LaPlanche), and her cousins, bumbling Paul Jones, (Creighton Hale), and more forbidding Charlie Wilder (Forrest Stanley). Hale’s Jones, by the way, looks just like a befuddled “Harry Potter,” complete with the glasses and unkept hair. How ironic that generations earlier, we had a “Harry Potter-ish” character in cinema. Of course, he’s not a wizard, although he ends up being the hero in this tale.

Not surprisingly, young lovely Annabelle is the heir and will keep her riches as long as the doctor is assured she is not insane. If she’s proven insane, an unnamed person, whose name is in the lawyer’s pocket, will inherit all the cash. (I forgot to mention that the envelope with that name was apparently opened up.) Such are the convoluted but fun plots. It isn’t long before the lawyer is murdered and a murderous fiend is haunting the mansion, trying to bump people off and harm our heroine.

As mentioned, director Leni incorporates much of the silent German expressionist film style. Expressionist thought puts feelings, inner particularly, above the action that is being portrayed. We feel the haunted house through the prism of the actors, more so than through the action we are seeing. The haunted mansion is almost dream-like in its many hallways, stairs, curtains and claustrophobic atmosphere.

I particularly like one of Leni’s touches at the beginning, where he portrays Cyrus West’s madness by portraying him as a “canary” surrounded by cats eager to feast on him. It is important to recall that this is a spoof, and there is very witty comedy throughout. Hale in particular plays the wimpy-turned-heroic hero as well as many silent comedians such as Lloyd and Chaplin. Also providing very strong acting chops is Martha Mattox, who plays the forbidding, gloomy housekeeper, Mammy Pleasant.

“The Cat and the Canary” was a big hit and was remade in 1930 as “The Cat Creeps,” which was Universal’s first sound horror film. A Spanish version was made as well. Unfortunately, “... Cat Creeps” is believed lost. In 1939, it was remade as a comedy vehicle for Bob Hope. There was a 1961 Swedish version made and in 1970, Richard Gordon produced a British version. However, the 1927 version remains the best version. The film was, as mentioned, based on a popular play of the same name.

The classic haunted house setting, the expressionist horror mixed with laughs provides a nice atmosphere fit for a Halloween viewing. The film is often shown on Turner Classic Movies.

Peter Lorre, The Golem, and Guy Kibbee

By Doug Gibson

We feature three quick reviews of films and any fan of cinema, particularly the 20s, 30s, and 40s, will enjoy. These reviews will only be a paragraph, but there will be links to more information..

So, here we go:

I saw "The Golem," from 1920, finally and all I can say is WOW, what a magnificent movie. It's pre-code sexy, compelling and the German expessionist genre, with winding, narrow, looming street, staircases and interiors, is as strong as "Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." The story involves a rabbi in the 16th Century Prague who invokes black magic to create a Golem, a man/monster that will protect the Jews from the secular leaders/royalty. The Golem, played by Paul Wegener, invokes the emotions, sounds and characteristics that Boris Karloff would place into the Frankenstein monster 11 years later.

"The Face Behind the Mask," 1941, may be Peter Lorre's most understated masterpiece. He's superb as kind, pacifistic immigrant Janos Szabo, who is disfigured in an accident. His appearance kills his career as a watchmaker, so he embarks on crime and is very successful, buying a mask to alleviate his appearance. One day he meets a beautiful blind working woman, played by Evelyn Keyes, and they fall in love. Szabo leaves his crime gang, but they won't let him go. The final 20 minutes or so of this film has the impact of a punch in the gut. Ironically, I learned on TCM's commentary that Lorre hated the film, and was usually half-bagged by noon.

Plan9Crunch readers know I'm a Guy Kibbee fan and 1937's "Don't Tell the Wife" is a great mild Kibbee comedy. He plays "Dinky" Winthrop, a seemingly dense financial columnist for a hick newspaper who is used as a patsy by a gang of con men pitching worthless gold mine stock. Una Merkel is very funny as well playing the chief con man's disapproving wife. This is one of those pleasant hour comedies where you know nothing really bad is going to happen. Kibbee's patsy character turns out to be a lot smarter than the grifters realized.

Drakula Halala -- the first filmed Dracula

Recap by Doug Gibson

"Drakula Halala," a 1921 Hungarian/Austrian film, is considered the first "adaptation" of the Bram Stoker novel. The film is lost; all that remains are stills and news reports, including a small novelization of the film. Above are the stars of the film, Paul Askonas as Drakula, and Margit Lux as Mary Land, the young lovely he menaces.

Scholar Gary D. Rhodes has the past several years become the man who fills in the pieces of a 50,000-word puzzle of the history of Dracula, Bela Lugosi and Ed Wood. Rhodes recently wrote an essay on the history of "Drakula Halala," which more or less means "Dracula's Death." He also translated the novella from the Hungarian.

I've always been fascinated with this film, and I am appreciative of Rhodes' essay, which will be the template for this post. The essay is part of a new book that Rhodes has co-edited with Olaf Brill, Expressionism in the Cinema, published by Edinburgh University Press.

Rhodes is the postgraduate director for Film Studies at the Queens University in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Brill is a German writer on film with an impressive resume. Rhodes notes that from his research, it seems that "Drakula Halala" was an expressionistic film. In what makes one ache to see this lost film, he sees similarities with "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." Certainly, the novella compares to Caligari in plot.

I urge readers to buy Expressionism in the Cinema and learn more about "Drakula Halala." I will present a short recap of Rhodes' translation of the novella and afterwards mention a few facts unearthed by Rhodes in the chapter.

The melodrama, suffering, despair and pessimism that is ingrained in the Hungarian culture is represented in Rhodes' translation. Mary Land lives alone, a seamstress working long hours to support her father, confined to a mental institution after the death of his wife. The family was once happy and wealthy, but all that is gone. Mary's boyfriend, a woodcutter named George, implores her to rest but Mary will not.

Eventually, Mr Land's death appears near and Mary and George travel to the asylum. Left there by George, Mary talks with Dr. Tillner. Left alone she is accosted by several of the inmates, including a sadistic man, Drakula, who believes he is immortal. Another, who laughs, is called the "Funny Man." Mary visits her father, who dies. Overcome by sorrow and the fear of Drakula and other inmates who visit her and pretend to be doctors, Mary is advised to spend the night in the asylum.

That night, alone, Mary is kidnapped by Drakula and taken to his castle, where he says, they will be married. Mary's revulsion, her cross and the light push Drakula away from her. He promises to return for their wedding when night comes. That evening there is an elaborate wedding ceremony prepared with other brides of Drakula. It's a strange ceremony, with elaborate lights, shrill music and flowers flowing from the ceiling. Just before Drakula kisses her, Mary pushes the cross toward him. Everyone flees, including Mary.

Outside the castle, Mary is rescued by a family. An attempt by Drakula to recapture her fails. A real doctor cares for her until he is led away on a fool's errand by Drakula. He returns to Mary before any harm can come to her. Nevertheless, thoughts of Drakula torture her in her bed, and seeking relief, she runs out of the house and into the cold snow.

We then cut back to the asylum, where Dr. Tillner is conducting his rounds. Mary is sleeping. The nurse informs the doctor she's had a terrible night of bad dreams.

Mary's kidnapping, attempted marriage and flight was all a dream.

Outside, in the courtroom, the mental patients are gathered. The "Funny Man" has a gun. Seizing an opportunity to prove his immortality, Drakula goads the "Funny Man" into shooting him. He does and Drakula dies.

George returns to gather Mary. They return home to a lifetime of happiness.  Mary requests that no one ever speak of Drakula, and asks that a manuscript of his be burnt. (Below is a still of the wedding scene in "Dracula Halala.")

The film, if the novella is correct, is hardly Stoker's "Dracula." Maybe they wanted to exploit the Dracula cultural sensation without paying any royalties to Stoker's widow, Florence. In later years, she would shut down "Nosferatu" and nearly destroy every print due to copyright violation.

The director of "Drakula Halala" was Karoly Lajthay, who acted in films with a young Bela Lugosi. It was shot mostly in Vienna but created by Hungarians. Interiors were shot in Budapest. Askonas had also played the sinister, mesmerizing Svengali in a 1912 version of "Trilby." Lux has appeared in the Mihaly Kertesz co-directed "Alraune."

Kertesz later became the famous director Michael Curtiz. He worked with Lugosi, his future expatriate, in Hungarian cinema. Curtiz was one of three screen writers credited for "Drakula Halala."

Rhodes' recounts publicity and advertising efforts for the film. There were expectations of a long showing of the film in Hungary. But that didn't happen. The film premiered in Vienna in 1921 but only played briefly in Budapest during the spring of 1921.

It's anyone guess as to why the film had a limited showing. Rhodes merits our appreciation for unearthing the information he has discovered. It may be that tucked away, forgotten in an Eastern European film vault, exists a print of "Dracula Halala." Only time well tell. Rhodes, nevertheless, has intrigued us enough to want to know more about the "first Dracula film."

The Golem, Peter Lorre and Guy Kibbee

By Doug Gibson

Because I write about 10 editorials/reviews a week and work 50-plus hours a week in my paid job, I thought I'd try a weekly missive mentioning, albeit briefly, films I watch that I just don't have the time to review now, although I may well do so in the future. These reviews will only be a paragraph, but there will be links to more information and usually at least one will have a video web link.

So, here we go:

I saw "The Golem," from 1920, finally and all I can say is WOW, what a magnificent movie. It's pre-code sexy, compelling and the German expessionist genre, with winding, narrow, looming street, staircases and interiors, is as strong as "Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." The story involves a rabbi in the 16th Century Prague who invokes black magic to create a Golem, a man/monster that will protect the Jews from the secular leaders/royalty. The Golem, played by Paul Wegener, invokes the emotions, sounds and characteristics that Boris Karloff would place into the Frankenstein monster 11 years later. Watch it above.

"The Face Behind the Mask," 1941, may be Peter Lorre's most understated masterpiece. He's superb as kind, pacifistic immigrant Janos Szabo, who is disfigured in an accident. His appearance kills his career as a watchmaker, so he embarks on crime and is very successful, buying a mask to alleviate his appearance. One day he meets a beautiful blind working woman, played by Evelyn Keyes, and they fall in love. Szabo leaves his crime gang, but they won't let him go. The final 20 minutes or so of this film has the impact of a punch in the gut. Ironically, I learned on TCM's commentary that Lorre hated the film, and was usually half-bagged by noon.

Plan9Crunch readers know I'm a Guy Kibbee fan and 1937's "Don't Tell the Wife" is a great mild Kibbee comedy. He plays "Dinky" Winthrop, a seemingly dense financial columnist for a hick newspaper who is used as a patsy by a gang of con men pitching worthless gold mine stock. Una Merkel is very funny as well playing the chief con man's disapproving wife. This is one of those pleasant hour comedies where you know nothing really bad is going to happen. Kibbee's patsy character turns out to be a lot smarter than the grifters realized.

‘The Cat and the Canary’ created what we expect from a haunted house

By Doug Gibson

“The Cat and the Canary,” a 1927 silent from Universal, directed by Paul Leni, a student of the German expressionist school, is a fun spooky/silly horror/comedy. It’s based on stage plays of that era — the 1920s — that were popular, with spooky forbidding mansions, red herrings, young lovelies in peril, bumbling cops, and homicidal maniacs. While “The Cat and the Canary” is a reaction to what was popular 85 years ago, it also over time is the genesis of many of the cliches that horror film viewers expect from haunted houses for at least two generations after the film.

There’s the forbidding mansion in a state of decay, the ominous housekeeper, the deceased, crazy-in-life owner who has gathered his heirs to the mansion for a reading of his crazed will. There’s the collection of eccentric relatives, including a young lovely and a bumbling good guy who has a crush on the lady. There’s the stereotypical murder, a killer on the loose, and escaped madman, a bumbling cop or two, a sinister doctor, a creepy lawyer, and a couple of other oddballs thrown in for good measure.

That’s essentially the plot of “The Cat and the Canary.” Twenty years after crazy old rich Cyrus West dies, he gathers, by his command, his heirs to the mansion. They include the young lovely Annabelle West (Laura LaPlanche), and her cousins, bumbling Paul Jones, (Creighton Hale), and more forbidding Charlie Wilder (Forrest Stanley). Hale’s Jones, by the way, looks just like a befuddled “Harry Potter,” complete with the glasses and unkept hair. How ironic that generations earlier, we had a “Harry Potter-ish” character in cinema. Of course, he’s not a wizard, although he ends up being the hero in this tale.

Not surprisingly, young lovely Annabelle is the heir and will keep her riches as long as the doctor is assured she is not insane. If she’s proven insane, an unnamed person, whose name is in the lawyer’s pocket, will inherit all the cash. (I forgot to mention that the envelope with that name was apparently opened up.) Such are the convoluted but fun plots. It isn’t long before the lawyer is murdered and a murderous fiend is haunting the mansion, trying to bump people off and harm our heroine.

As mentioned, director Leni incorporates much of the silent German expressionist film style. Expressionist thought puts feelings, inner particularly, above the action that is being portrayed. We feel the haunted house through the prism of the actors, more so than through the action we are seeing. The haunted mansion is almost dream-like in its many hallways, stairs, curtains and claustrophobic atmosphere.

I particularly like one of Leni’s touches at the beginning, where he portrays Cyrus West’s madness by portraying him as a “canary” surrounded by cats eager to feast on him. It is important to recall that this is a spoof, and there is very witty comedy throughout. Hale in particular plays the wimpy-turned-heroic hero as well as many silent comedians such as Lloyd and Chaplin. Also providing very strong acting chops is Martha Mattox, who plays the forbidding, gloomy housekeeper, Mammy Pleasant.

“The Cat and the Canary” was a big hit and was remade in 1930 as “The Cat Creeps,” which was Universal’s first sound horror film. A Spanish version was made as well. Unfortunately, “... Cat Creeps” is believed lost. In 1939, it was remade as a comedy vehicle for Bob Hope. There was a 1961 Swedish version made and in 1970, Richard Gordon produced a British version. However, the 1927 version remains the best version. The film was, as mentioned, based on a popular play of the same name.

The classic haunted house setting, the expressionist horror mixed with laughs provides a nice atmosphere fit for a Halloween viewing. The film is often shown on Turner Classic Movies.

‘The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari’ – Silent cinema’s finest fright film

By Steve D. Stones

This  landmark 1919 German expressionistic film may be difficult for contemporary audiences to view because of the heavy handed digital effects of today’s movies, but it is well worth the effort. The film relies heavily on psychological horror effects, gestural movement of actors and flatly painted, angular sets that give the film an unrealistic and surreal feeling.

Based on an 11th century myth of a mountebank monk, a carnival hypnotist named Dr. Caligari arrives in a German town to exhibit his walking somnambulist, who has been asleep in a coffin for over 20 years. The somnambulist, played by German actor Conrad Veidt, has the ability to predict when carnival attendants will die. He predicts that a local man named Alan will die. That night Alan is murdered in his bed.  His death is revealed through a brilliant use of silhouette and shadows projected on the wall above him, avoiding any graphic horror.

Alan’s friend Francis, who is the narrator and protagonist of the film, is convinced that the somnambulist killed Alan. He sets out to prove that Caligari and his act are responsible for Alan’s death and the deaths of other locals. The viewer is lead through a number of sets that emphasize shadows and hard-edged angularity. Francis’ investigation leads to a mental institution where he discovers that Dr. Caligari is the head doctor of the institute.

In a complete switch of plot, the film ends with Francis being fitted with a straight-jacket by Dr. Caligari at the mental institute. The viewer realizes that Francis is insane and that his story has been a fabrication of his mentally twisted mind.  The hard-edged, angular sets are symbolic of Francis’ insane mind. His role as the protagonist is now questioned by the viewer.

Critics of Caligari in 1919 felt that the somnambulist was a symbol of mindless European soldiers marching off to war to kill without question. The film was banned in a number of U.S. cities and European countries.  Some film historians have labeled Caligari as the first ever “cult film.”

The influence of “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” on contemporary artists and filmmakers cannot be overstated. Rob Zombie’s 1998 MTV video “Living Dead Girl” is a complete homage and reenactment of Caligari. Caligari’s influence can also be seen in many Tim Burton films, such as “Edward Scissorhands,” “The Corpse Bride,” “Beetlejuice,” and others. “Edward Scissorhands” looks similar to the somnambulist character in Caligari, particularly his movements and gesturing.

If you have not seen “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,” I highly recommend it as part of your movie viewing this Halloween Season. Caligari makes a great double-feature with another German-Expressionist silent classic – “Nosferatu” (1922). Both films have been digitally remastered and can be purchased by Kino Lorber International Video. Beware of cheap public domain prints of “Caligari” and “Nosferatu” for sale. These prints cut important scenes and have poor image and sound quality. Happy Halloween!!