With Robert Eggers’ NOSFERATU (2024) coming to theaters this Christmas, many will discuss its merits measured against those adaptations that came before it, but few will be talking about the sequel to Werner Herzog’s brilliant revamp of the 1922 classic, NOSFERATU THE VAMPIRE (1979); and for good reason: 1988’s NOSFERATU IN VENICE [aka VAMPIRE IN VENICE] is not a good movie. Yes, it retains actor Klaus Kinski (who reputedly was then very much prone to emotional outbursts, even violence), but it is among his most bizarre (most would say terrible) performances. Some actors in the film, like Donald Pleasance, would distance themselves from it (while appearing proudly that same year in the Universal remake of DRACUOA). Still, others, like critic Kim Newman find merit in the movie. He argues that it is an “attractively photographed, impressively scored follow-up to Nosferatu.” But it is Rocco T. Thompson who perhaps gave the best review; in a 2021 review of the blu-ray release for Rue Morgue magazine, he writes that “the film is still a haunting vision of a floating underworld of rotten opulence that manages to walk the razor’s edge between art and schlock.”
A sequel in name only, NOSFERATU IN VENICE carries nothing over from its source. Werner Herzog was not involved the production. The setting is moved from Wismar, Germany to Venice, Italy. And Kinski, as the only carry-over, looks like he belongs in a hair metal band — not a horror movie. Still, there is the conceit of a woman luring the monster and sacrificing herself. That is central to the story of Nosferatu as established in previous films. But in this “sequel,” it is not Isabelle Adjani as Lucy bravely keeping the monster in her bed until the dawn destroys him. Instead, it is Anne Knecht as Maria whose virginity — not just her blood — is taken from her… and she apparently likes it! She even takes a bullet (well, shotgun blast) for the monster (intentionally?), leaving the 200 year-old vampire to wander the streets of Venice at dawn, carrying her body along the banks of a canal. The end.
This ending is nothing compared to what the filmmakers also did to THIS Nosferatu’s strengths and weaknesses. Eschewing much of vampire lore, the Nosferatu of Venice takes note of his face in a mirror, can summon vast winds that knock people out of windows, and, unlike his 1922 counterpart, is partial to the sun. When Maria asks him “doesn’t the daylight frighten you?” Kinski’s vampire replies that “it’s the night that frightens me.”
A vampire frightened of the dark?
There’s so much more to criticize. But there’s much also to admire. Sumptuously filmed and set in truly Gothic environments, the atmosphere is exceptional. Antonio Nardi’s cinematography is brilliant — haunting at times. His artistry evokes a Venice that is equal parts real and dream, where it’s forever dusk or dawn, and birds scatter.
One could also credit (or blame) the director, but NOSFERATU IN VENICE was handled by multiple directors (as many as five, depending on what you call “directing”). This may explain why a film so visually interesting is otherwise a mess.
Augusto Caminito is considered the primary director; as producer since the beginning of the project, Caminito took control after a number of false starts (including Maurizio Lucidi shooting some scenes before the script was even ready). After principal photography began, a number of other directors were considered or worked on the film; Klaus Kinski himself got behind the camera. His involvement is reputed to have come from his temper and inability to compromise. For example, filmmakers were prepared from the get-go to shoot Venice’s carnival with a bald-capped stand-in. Then Kinski refused to wear the now iconic makeup for his scenes. In the end, he looked more like an unkempt Lestat than the Nosferatu to which audiences are accustomed. Not the bald-headed and pointy-eared creature he was in 1979. Nor Max Schreck in the silent version of 1922, looking grotesque — more rodent than man.
Indeed, rodents may be one of the reasons why NOSFERATU IN VENICE fails. For rats are an infestation. And so are vampires. In Murnau’s version, the presence of rats is not pronounced, but the aforementioned makeup certainly reflects that dread of infestation. In the 1979 version, Herzog used an abundant amount of rodents, suggesting not only infestation, but making clear to the audience that THIS Nosferatu (explicitly named Dracula in Herzog’s version) brings plague. Herzog transported nearly 10,000 white rats from Hungary and dyed them gray for the film (residents of the town where the film was shot found the rodents for many years thereafter). When the town fathers examine the body of the captain of the ship that brings the vampire to their shores, they conclude plague. They run to hide behind closed doors. Where still no one is safe. Plague is everywhere. And the vampire brought the disease (that IS vampirism) with him.
Robert Eggers is reputed to continue that association of the vampire with rats and plague. His NOSFERATU (2024) has 5,000 rodents in it. And while NOSFERATU IN VENICE does end on an island where plague victims were long ago taken (and more recent cholera victims were banished), these factors seem to be there to only advance the plot. A way to explain an abandoned house in which vampires dwell (re-enforcing that Gothic atmosphere that is inarguably there in the sets and locations). Plague and infestation is not a theme, however; it is just a plot device to advance the story.
Even the presence of Christopher Plummer as Professor Paris Catalano (the Van-Helsing-type character) can’t save NOSFERATU IN VENICE. For a vampire expert / hunter, he is ineffectual at every turn. Plummer is wasted in the role. After having his hands burned by a cross made molten by Kinski’s vampire, Catalano gives up and skips town, leaving the fight to others. But not before he informs all that Nosferatu can only be stopped by legitmate love.
But what is legitimate? The love shown in the source material or the sex that here is on display? There’s gratuitous full-frontal nudity — which some might argue is necessary to convey the “love” between Maria and the vampire — but it’s forced, feeling much like mid-eighties soft-core porn where bare breasts and a few thrusts are meant to titillate. And more like the many vampire films of the eighties and nineties to follow, where sex with a vampire becomes de rigueur (think EMBRACE OF THE VAMPIRE [1995]), NOSFERATU IN VENICE presses the age-old vampire “sex = death” theme to silly extremes. And the love story? Nothing like what would be done a few years later in Francis Ford Coppolla’s DRACULA (1992) — where “love never dies” (and the primary female character (Mina in Coppolla’s film) genuinely falls in love, torn between her husband the Count). Here, love [it it ever was that] does die — with a shotgun blast. EVEN in Herzog’s version, where love is mentioned as freeedom from the curse (and loneliness) of immortality, a woman’s strength is at the heart of story.
This strength of a woman’s love in vanquishing a vampire is what is missing from NOSFERATU IN VENICE. In Herzog’s adaptation, NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE (1979), when the bloodsucking Count first meets Lucy in person (violating the sanctity of the marital bedroom), Adjani’s Lucy solidly proclaims her love for her husband, but then shows empathy for the vampire, almost a tenderness in her pity. The woman’s strength IS her love — for husband, home, and community — and it vanquishes the vampire (well, [spoiler] that particular vampire; another rides off into the sunset [?]). Look at this photo and see how Herzog carefully positions Lucy as succumbing, yet somehow resisting, as if saying prayers to herself while slowly being drain. See the photo of Kinksi and Knecht, however; it’s a still from a scene thay is highly sexualized, with Kinski making thrusts from behind Maria. I know. Ew.
And for Caminito (like Coppolla after him) the vampire seems to be a creature women truly desire, and while it works for Coppolla (depending on how much of a Stoker purist you are), it falls flat here. Don’t put the word “Nosferatu” in your title then set your titular lead up like a sex symbol. With “Nosferatu” in the movie’s very name, the audience expects a rat-like alien of a vampire, spreading plague. Leave the sexy vampires to Anne Rice or The Twilight series. They have their place there, where the dynamic works. But it doesn’t work in NOSFERATU IN VENICE. And that is its ultimate failure.
Praise will undoubtedly be heaped upon Eggers, just as Herzog and Murnau before him. And it will be justifiable praise, as the previews look phenomental.*
But NOSFERATU IN VENICE will be forgotten (if it hasn’t already, with only bloggers debating its pros and cons). As long as blu-ray special editions are released and services like Tubi stream it for free. the film will however forever find a niche audience. If this curious few go in expecting a true sequel, faithful to NOSFERATU (whichever version you choose), they will be sorely disappointed.
* Saw Eggers’ film on December 30 and was blown away by the art direction and cinematography. The movie drags a little, and the acting? a little over the top, but it is certainly beautiful to watch. Lily-Rose Depp‘s Helen (the Mina character, named Helen in the 1922 version, and called Lucy in the 1979) is a more complex character here than other adaptations. A psychic connection to the vampire is established from the very beginning of the film. Their “relationshiop” is at the heart of the movie, making her sacrifice all the more powerful. Add in Bill Skarsgård playing the Graf Orlok / Dracula like no other actor has played him, and you’ve got one hell of a vampire film.
