Nosferatu ("Take home exam" my ass...)
This is the paper for my class, it's on a scene from Nosferatu, which is the best silent film... ever?
Nosferatu: A Tale of Light and Shadows….
Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922) is perhaps the most well-known of the Expressionist films of German cinema’s Golden Age. The silent classic has many claims to fame, including being the first-and unauthorized-film adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, but it is the gloomy horror of its cinematic composition that gives it its lasting notoriety. Like other expressionist fantasy films of the era, most notably The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), the film uses mise en scene and cinematography to create a psychologically powerful feeling of horror and madness. However, unlike its contemporaries who largely relied on studio-made scenery for effect, Nosferatu’s director and designer used elements from the real world. Through careful analysis of an early scene in which Hutter is menaced by Count Orlock while his fiancé Ellen awakes to a supernatural trance, the audience can realize that it is the effective use of simple objects and natural settings, and especially the juxtaposition of opposite themes, that gives Nosferatu its infamously dark and disturbing mood.
Light and shadow are probably the most noticeable element of the film’s distinctive vision. Shots in Count Orlock’s castle are lit brightly from the side with a distinct light source making the shadows highly detailed. Shots of Hutter, particularly when he's at the door, are lit from slightly below, so that the shadow looms above him ominously. Shots of the Count are lit from slightly above so that the shadow falls on the wall behind him or on his victim in front of him, giving the feeling that he is both larger-than-life and supernatural. His slowly descending shadow on Hutter (and later on Ellen) are among the movie’s most famous scenes. In addition to the shadow effect, the bright spot lighting has the effect of bringing out in harsh detail the foreground elements while leaving the background in darkness, a mystery to be pondered. Inanimate objects are also given a supernatural aura by the distinct shadows they cast. Even the sources of light, simple lamps and candles, play a role when you compare those in Ellen’s home-a lamp and tall candle prominently onscreen-with those in Count Orlock’s castle-one candlestick nearly burned away in the corner of the screen. Together, although one may not even consciously notice such a detail, these opposites remind the audience of the dismal situation of the scared young Hutter.
Other objects on the screen play into the audience’s psychology as well. The scene opens with a skeleton tolling the bell of midnight; a symbol of death signaling the coming of the witching hour, and with it, the dreaded Count Orlock. When he appears, tall, angular, grotesque, and staring, he is backed by a plain stone wall, animated only by his shadow. He approaches the tall, arched doorway, moving slowly and deliberately forward. Low, curved arches fill the castle and every shot within it, so that characters are always closed in claustrophobically. The door itself is an object of fear, as it slowly opens and closes seemingly of its own accord. Every detail tells a story, such as the cloth hanging from the wall in Hutter’s room like a hanged man, swaying in the wind as Hutter rushes for an escape. Through the window is a scene of nature that could, under different circumstances, be beautiful. Instead it takes on a sinister air as the trees, plants, rocks and waterfall create wavy vertical lines, implying a sense of height and vertigo. Similar natural verticals are seen on Ellen’s balcony as she teeters on the railing over an unknown drop.
It is the use of these potentially mundane objects that really counts in creating Nosferatu’s creepy aura. The checkered floor of the castle, seen from Hutter’s doorway, throw the viewer off-kilter, extending away at an odd angle, the black and white squares giving the hall depth as they disappear into darkness. As Count Orlock climbs the steps into Hutter’s room, he pauses, framed by the doorway-as he is framed in nearly every shot-and a low angle long shot places him squarely in the top of the doorframe, his head and shoulders perfectly mimicking and barely contained, bringing out both his natural placement within the dark castle and his unnatural height. Careful cinematography and internal framing are important throughout the scene and movie as a whole, such as Ellen on the balcony, framed by the window and obscured by a veil-like curtain, only clearly visible just before she falls and is rescued. The curtain is another great example of an ordinary, even pretty, object made sinister.
Thus far we have focused almost entirely on the “creepy” elements; those mostly in Count Orlock’s castle, but it is equally important to examine the opposite, the environment of Ellen. Whereas the castle is plain and dark, filled with low arches and odd angles, Ellen’s house is large, bright and open, with no visible ceilings, and extravagant niceties throughout, everything straight and vertical. The tint of the film, which is orange for the first half of the scene, changes to blue when the audience first sees Ellen in her bed. Likewise, the narrow ellipsis that creates a dreamlike quality and narrows the vision in the castle, disappears with the shot of Ellen, to reappear-although wider than in the castle-as her situation becomes linked with that of Hutter. The orange tint also returns for a single shot before the scene becomes wholly blue until the end. Thus, links are created between the scenes beyond what the scripted narration and almost extraneous intertitle-“At the same hour”-could portray.
Opposites attract, as they say, but in this case it is more accurate to say that opposites magnify. By juxtaposing elements of “light” in Ellen’s environment with elements of “shadow” in the castle, the dark gloom of the castle is enhanced (as is the potential cheeriness of Ellen’s home). Light and shadow, blue and orange, dream and reality; all of these are present in Nosferatu, and are essential to its story and its mood. The opposite natures of Ellen and Count Orlock serve a similar-but deeper-purpose. Count Orlock is all in black, except for his white skin, while Ellen is all in white, except for her dark hair. Count Orlock is a symbol for death, pestilence, and darkness. Ellen is a symbol of life, love, and light. It is her love for Hutter, and Orlock’s love for her, that lead to the vampire’s eventual demise.
Despite-or perhaps because of-her perfection, Ellen walks a line between light and shadow. Literally, when she walks on the railing, she walks with the bright inside of her house on her right, and the dark wilderness of outside on her left. She walks slowly, entranced, like the Count-it is worth noting that only she and the Count move slowly, and the sane, normal characters move quickly. Despite her surroundings of light and warmth, surrounded by her family and friends in the end of the scene, she is aware only of the cold dark loneliness of the castle. When she senses the Count’s descending on Hutter she reaches out; past the companions at her side toward the balcony door, still open to the darkness outside. Thus, even in the midst of everyday objects of light and happiness, the film brings attention to darkness and gloom.
The use of visual cues to go beyond the limits of a script is an essential element in nearly all films made today. The particular attention to creepy psychology, deep and gloomy madness, and the inner states of a few interconnected characters are what made early Expressionist films so lasting. Nosferatu played a special role in this early development of mise en scene, because of its effective use of reality over universes created entirely artificially. It does this through careful placement of well-picked visuals and effective cinematography, and juxtaposition of opposite elements of brightness and darkness; of light and shadow.
Nosferatu: A Tale of Light and Shadows….
Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922) is perhaps the most well-known of the Expressionist films of German cinema’s Golden Age. The silent classic has many claims to fame, including being the first-and unauthorized-film adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, but it is the gloomy horror of its cinematic composition that gives it its lasting notoriety. Like other expressionist fantasy films of the era, most notably The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), the film uses mise en scene and cinematography to create a psychologically powerful feeling of horror and madness. However, unlike its contemporaries who largely relied on studio-made scenery for effect, Nosferatu’s director and designer used elements from the real world. Through careful analysis of an early scene in which Hutter is menaced by Count Orlock while his fiancé Ellen awakes to a supernatural trance, the audience can realize that it is the effective use of simple objects and natural settings, and especially the juxtaposition of opposite themes, that gives Nosferatu its infamously dark and disturbing mood.
Light and shadow are probably the most noticeable element of the film’s distinctive vision. Shots in Count Orlock’s castle are lit brightly from the side with a distinct light source making the shadows highly detailed. Shots of Hutter, particularly when he's at the door, are lit from slightly below, so that the shadow looms above him ominously. Shots of the Count are lit from slightly above so that the shadow falls on the wall behind him or on his victim in front of him, giving the feeling that he is both larger-than-life and supernatural. His slowly descending shadow on Hutter (and later on Ellen) are among the movie’s most famous scenes. In addition to the shadow effect, the bright spot lighting has the effect of bringing out in harsh detail the foreground elements while leaving the background in darkness, a mystery to be pondered. Inanimate objects are also given a supernatural aura by the distinct shadows they cast. Even the sources of light, simple lamps and candles, play a role when you compare those in Ellen’s home-a lamp and tall candle prominently onscreen-with those in Count Orlock’s castle-one candlestick nearly burned away in the corner of the screen. Together, although one may not even consciously notice such a detail, these opposites remind the audience of the dismal situation of the scared young Hutter.
Other objects on the screen play into the audience’s psychology as well. The scene opens with a skeleton tolling the bell of midnight; a symbol of death signaling the coming of the witching hour, and with it, the dreaded Count Orlock. When he appears, tall, angular, grotesque, and staring, he is backed by a plain stone wall, animated only by his shadow. He approaches the tall, arched doorway, moving slowly and deliberately forward. Low, curved arches fill the castle and every shot within it, so that characters are always closed in claustrophobically. The door itself is an object of fear, as it slowly opens and closes seemingly of its own accord. Every detail tells a story, such as the cloth hanging from the wall in Hutter’s room like a hanged man, swaying in the wind as Hutter rushes for an escape. Through the window is a scene of nature that could, under different circumstances, be beautiful. Instead it takes on a sinister air as the trees, plants, rocks and waterfall create wavy vertical lines, implying a sense of height and vertigo. Similar natural verticals are seen on Ellen’s balcony as she teeters on the railing over an unknown drop.
It is the use of these potentially mundane objects that really counts in creating Nosferatu’s creepy aura. The checkered floor of the castle, seen from Hutter’s doorway, throw the viewer off-kilter, extending away at an odd angle, the black and white squares giving the hall depth as they disappear into darkness. As Count Orlock climbs the steps into Hutter’s room, he pauses, framed by the doorway-as he is framed in nearly every shot-and a low angle long shot places him squarely in the top of the doorframe, his head and shoulders perfectly mimicking and barely contained, bringing out both his natural placement within the dark castle and his unnatural height. Careful cinematography and internal framing are important throughout the scene and movie as a whole, such as Ellen on the balcony, framed by the window and obscured by a veil-like curtain, only clearly visible just before she falls and is rescued. The curtain is another great example of an ordinary, even pretty, object made sinister.
Thus far we have focused almost entirely on the “creepy” elements; those mostly in Count Orlock’s castle, but it is equally important to examine the opposite, the environment of Ellen. Whereas the castle is plain and dark, filled with low arches and odd angles, Ellen’s house is large, bright and open, with no visible ceilings, and extravagant niceties throughout, everything straight and vertical. The tint of the film, which is orange for the first half of the scene, changes to blue when the audience first sees Ellen in her bed. Likewise, the narrow ellipsis that creates a dreamlike quality and narrows the vision in the castle, disappears with the shot of Ellen, to reappear-although wider than in the castle-as her situation becomes linked with that of Hutter. The orange tint also returns for a single shot before the scene becomes wholly blue until the end. Thus, links are created between the scenes beyond what the scripted narration and almost extraneous intertitle-“At the same hour”-could portray.
Opposites attract, as they say, but in this case it is more accurate to say that opposites magnify. By juxtaposing elements of “light” in Ellen’s environment with elements of “shadow” in the castle, the dark gloom of the castle is enhanced (as is the potential cheeriness of Ellen’s home). Light and shadow, blue and orange, dream and reality; all of these are present in Nosferatu, and are essential to its story and its mood. The opposite natures of Ellen and Count Orlock serve a similar-but deeper-purpose. Count Orlock is all in black, except for his white skin, while Ellen is all in white, except for her dark hair. Count Orlock is a symbol for death, pestilence, and darkness. Ellen is a symbol of life, love, and light. It is her love for Hutter, and Orlock’s love for her, that lead to the vampire’s eventual demise.
Despite-or perhaps because of-her perfection, Ellen walks a line between light and shadow. Literally, when she walks on the railing, she walks with the bright inside of her house on her right, and the dark wilderness of outside on her left. She walks slowly, entranced, like the Count-it is worth noting that only she and the Count move slowly, and the sane, normal characters move quickly. Despite her surroundings of light and warmth, surrounded by her family and friends in the end of the scene, she is aware only of the cold dark loneliness of the castle. When she senses the Count’s descending on Hutter she reaches out; past the companions at her side toward the balcony door, still open to the darkness outside. Thus, even in the midst of everyday objects of light and happiness, the film brings attention to darkness and gloom.
The use of visual cues to go beyond the limits of a script is an essential element in nearly all films made today. The particular attention to creepy psychology, deep and gloomy madness, and the inner states of a few interconnected characters are what made early Expressionist films so lasting. Nosferatu played a special role in this early development of mise en scene, because of its effective use of reality over universes created entirely artificially. It does this through careful placement of well-picked visuals and effective cinematography, and juxtaposition of opposite elements of brightness and darkness; of light and shadow.