Bram Stoker's "Dracula" is one of the most adapted works in horror history. In addition to each movie that claims immediate literal adaptation of the book, there are 74 more that take influence from it... it's true, I went to the end of time and counted all of 'em. Some of them are celluloid gems, while others are celluloid skid marks in the tighty-whiteys of movie history, but amidst them all, only one could be the first: German director F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu. Waaaaaaaaaaay back in the 1920s, producers were itching at the ballsac to get the rights to Stoker's tale of Count Dracula, figuring it'd make a dandy little moving picture show to scare the piss out of the new wide-eyed moviegoers of the day. Murnau got on the project tout suite, but after already starting production, he got a letter from the executors of Mr. Stoker's estate to cease and desist or face the bloodthirsty fangs of real horror: their lawyers. Murnau, with that infamous German "stick to it and your enemies will fall in flames at your boot heels" attitude, he did what any filmmaker would do and pulled a "Dragnet". Yep, he changed the names and the location and kept his fingers crossed it'd be enough to evade a flesh eating lawsuit demon... and it worked. Dr. Abraham Van Helsing became Professor Bulwar, Jonathan Harker took on the alias of Hutter and Count Dracula himself was given a botched "Jenny Jones" make over to become Count Orlok. As for the flick's locale, Murnau switched the foggy streets of the Victorian Age London to the cobblestoned spook of Bremen and everything came off smooth as Orlok's Telly Savalas hairdo.

That was 4 score ago (80 years kiddies, learn your Gettysburg Address) kiddies, and in this modern day and age, the copyright enforcement on "Dracula" has pretty much knocked it down to a public domain at this point. Not only does this mean the title and characters can be kicked around by any man, woman or child with $5,000 and a camcorder, but it also means Nosferatu can be converted back to the way it was meant to be... and to help sell it to the less expanded audiences who think Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee or, Osiris help me, even Gary Oldman was the first to play the "eccentric" Count from Transylvania. So, despite all of F.W.'s evasive efforts with his characters, it all winds up turned around in the end anyway... yes, fate's a big angry dyke named Bertha. But, to pay my pathetic respects to the director and his (barely legal) vision, I'll be sticking with the original names the film intended. Remember, it's just like the same old Dracula story we've all seen a million times, only John is now Hutter, Van Helsing is now Bulwar and Dracula is Orlok. Got that? You might want to write it down somewhere and have mommy pin it to your sleeve next to your mittens so you don't have to scroll up here every time you need a cast refresher. Okie-dokie, let's get this literary train wreck on it's way...

As with any adaptation of this story, our center of attention is young real estate agent Hutter, who has the biggest deal of his professional life dropped into his lap like my nympho neighbor in the mood for a mouthful. Problem is, he's given this assignment in Transylvania by a deranged and twisted chap who works in his office by the name of Knock (formerly Renfield) who drops words like "pain", "blood" and refers to where Hutt's going to as "the land of phantoms". We all know this guy, every office has one. He drinks Pine-Sol after work, likes to pluck the curly grey hairs from his genitals and armpits and Krazy Glue™ 'em on his eyebrows and enjoys making a snack out of anything with more than 4 legs that happens to crawl through his path. Everyone's uncomfortable with him, but they don't want to say anything because they know he's from a broken home, his wife left him for the UPS guy and his kids all died in a horrible water slide accident at Six Flags, so they just kinda ignore him and leave him to his corner in the supply closet. I was a Renfield once, until Tom Arnold saved my life... but that's another story. Though I wouldn't be the first Century 21™ guy to throw on my red jacket and hijack the next camel to Transylvania, the Huttster blows it off and heads out to do the job he loves so! That, and it might be because Renfield says this guy Orlok's got deep pockets and he's looser with the green than Richard Gere in a pet store or Eddie Murphy at a transvestite convention. So, not being the smartest machete in the apple sauce, Hutter grabs the job by the balls with a grin and heads home to tell his beloved Ellen (ex-Nina).

Though Ellen's not too thrilled with her hubby heading out for a couple months "on business", Hutt packs his matching luggage (matching because it's two potato sacks sewn together) and sets out on his long horse ride to the Carpathians... and I thought the 16 hour Greyhound ride to Ohio was a trial for my ass's stamina. Not far from his destination at Orlok's current residence, Hutter stops off at a local inn for dinner and an ass resting. No shock as all the peasants curl up in horror at Hutt's mention of Orlok and his business with him, but they do give him a room to stay in for the night. Unlike motor lodges and roadside roach motels here in the US, Transylvanian inns don't stock their nightstands with the "Holy" Christian Bible, but with a good book of another kind: The Book Of Vampires. Recommended reading if you find yourself backpacking through bloodsucker central whilst on holiday! Hutter of course blows this off too, proving himself a lad denser than a Bulgarian grandma's undergrowth. Actually, scratch that, he doesn't just blow it off, he throws that handy little AAA licensed guide to the undead down on his floor violently and laughs maniacally! But, I can let this slide because Hutt's the kind of man I respect for his excellent abilities to travel lightly. Don't believe me? Not only can this guy keep his goofy little perm for a two month span without the proper conditioners and other femmy products, but he's managing to live out of nothing but a junior sized saddle bag for nearly two months! Next time I go camping, this guy's doing the planning.

Again, as with any telling of our tale, the local taxi company ain't servicing the area of Orlok's castle, so he's dropped off just outside the property at the crossroads. And as our narrator states, when Hutt crosses the bridge to the Count's pad, he enters "the land of phantoms"... as noted by the film going negative and the horse carriages moving 5 times speed with horses draped in soiled bed sheets as frantic violin music rampages in the background. After Orlok's "phantom" coach driver picks Hutter up and drops him off at the master's lair, where he finally meets his client and shakes hands with death itself. It's just one uncomfortable moment after another to follow, filled with odd glances, escaped gas bursts and the topper as Orlok gets WAY too overzealous when Hutter knicks his finger while cutting some bread. Kids, always remember, when your host starts sucking your blood, it's time to call mom and/or dad and leave the birthday party. Sure, your parents may refer to your friend Bobby's family's religious beliefs as "different but no less intolerable than your own beliefs", but when there are virgins being raped by goats and headless chickens being used as goblets for "birth nectar", it's best to just burn the house down before you're naked and tied to an altar of bone and runestones.

The next morning, our hero awakens with a few new neck perforations much to his dismay. His answer for the hickeys? Mosquito pokes and spider bites of course. As for 'Lok, he happens upon a picture of Ellen in Hutt's pocket and comments on the young lady's "lovely throat"... NOW Hutter starts hittin' his nosferatu text and gettin' royally creeped by Orlok's presence... wait a minute, he swiped that book from the inn! That little creep! I bet his potato sacks are filled with towels and crap wipe paper too! Bastard! After happening upon the Count's snoozing spot in a box of dirt in the basement, Hutt decides that's it and it's time to beat feet back to his lady's side, get a little pussy and fuck all this shit! Orlok hops his personal yacht (a raft that would make Huck Finn laugh in disgust) and heads down river to catch a ship to Europe, leaving Hutter to fend for himself... I'm starting to get confused. Hutt's not one to stay put like a good puppy though, and he busts out the old prison trick, tying his bed sheets together and repelling to the nearby village and freedom Willy, FREEDOM! Right. As the Count's ship makes it's way toward Bremen, all of Eastern Europe becomes the setting for a strange plague that leaves it's victims with strange bleeding marks on their necks... okay, either the newspapers are overreacting when they call this a "plague", or Orlok's a one man munching machine! Christ, if I squish a couple bugs and torch an ant hill, would that be considered insect genocide!? Either way he finally makes it to Bremen, right behind Hutter who managed to make the entire journey in slightly less time on foot, even with a stop over to heal up in Peasantville.

I know it's hard not to laugh at Orlok as he lugs his big heavy coffin through the Bremen streets, but try to remember boys and girls, this is an old movie... a REALLY old movie... It's served through 3 wars, numerous political conflicts and more film transfers than a whole library of Robert Z'Dar flicks and deserves your respect. Maybe Orlok should've just hypnotized one of the ship's crew to haul his luggage instead of eating all of them... he's a pig for being such a skinny prick. The locals check the ship, only to find everyone on board dead. Observation of the captain's log proves nothing we as the omnipotent audience didn't already know, though I think it odd that the captain's writings look nigh identical to Hutter's letters to Ellen... maybe they went to the same grammar school... Speaking of the Hutter household, Ellen's taken interest to The Book Of Vampires in her husband's overmonth bag (get it!?), despite Hutt's insistence she not touch it. Why? Seems it reveals the only way to destroy the demon in the trenchcoat and rat teeth is to seduce him with the blood of an innocent and willing woman and keep him occupied until the morning sun rises... I'd just spike a hooker with a speedball and toss her to Orlok as a house warming gift, then tie him to a crucifix in the town square to bath in solar radiation for a breakfast box social, but then I'm a God, not a 1920s German moviemaker with a drug habit.

Meanwhile, Bremen's turned into a plague zone as caskets are marched through the streets like a parade of doom... featuring doom elephants, doom jugglers and doom stilt walkers! Also in local headlines, Knock, who's been locked up in one of Bremen's less-than-humane-but-less-than-high-security asylums for a while, stangled his guard and has escaped into the streets much to the anger of a rock throwing mob of civilians! Though this scene seems to make no sense as it plays out, I'm using my powers of over deduction to assume that the chase is actually constructed by Knock as per the orders of his boss Count Orlok to distract the townsfolk while he finally makes his move on the slurpy young Ellen and her "lovely throat". She fakes an attack of illness so Hutter will run off to get Professor Bulwar's assistance, leaving her window wide open for their new neighbor, the bald headed, long-in-the-fingered, buck toothed tower of evil Orlok, to slip in and get him some sweet maiden lovin' and do a little shadow gropin' on Ellen's titties! But, what's this? It seems the innocent lass is giving herself to the monster willingly! Yep, she's baited the trap and snared the prey, as Orlok sinks his teeth into her supple white flesh for a little too long and turns around to find Mr. Sunshine smiling right into his cold dead face. *Poof*, Orlok's doing his dead-on impression of tin foil in a microwave before being reduced to the smoking remnants of my ashtray. Hutter returns with Professor Bulwar (who did nothing for the entire movie but teach a college class on vampire vegetables) in tow only to find Ellen in her final death rattles, having sacrificed herself for the betterment of the world and an end to the recent plague. Were this made in the modern age, it would be followed by a slew of sequels that would make less and less sense as the series progressed, but since this was the days when there were something like 3 filming cameras in existence, we're spared that pain and it's all over with for good... until the remake.

Unfortunately, though i know I should be kind on the old girl, Nosferatu is heavy with material that almost makes me cringe when viewing. First, the sped up look of the film only hurts the somber and gothic mood Murnau tries to set up. I'll never get over those super speed thoroughbreds pulling the "phantom" carriage. As for why it's sped up like that, I haven't the slightest idea. I'm guessing it's a technical thing with the primitive film technology of the day, as I know little about filming and camera mechanics. Then again, I also know extremely small amounts to do with automotive repair and what women really want, so it could have something to do with one of those too... What I do know is that the magic of modern film allows the distributors of the video to now add the background soundtrack onto the videotape itself, so we no longer need someone playing a one man band off to the side while the picture plays. Sorry Tiny Tim, I know I promised you a job here in the Underworld, but your services and your stupid little ukulele are no longer needed. Now get back to scoring my stage play version of Howard The Duck you freak! As for our movie, despite it's shortcomings in this modern day (I'm sorry people, I wasn't around back then, so I don't know how bad you had it or how lucky you were to have German imported horror movies that looked like herky-jerky cha-chas), you have to give it credit for what it did do in it's day before even Universal's silver age of monster stars, also the groundwork it laid out for modern horror and most importantly the creature design and make-up of our main villain that is STILL the coolest damn vampire in the 8 decades since! I just wish Renfield and Van Helsing hadn't been pushed so far back on the burner.

Though Nosferatu was the first screen adaptation of "Dracula", it was far from being the first horror film, like so many would-be cinemaniacs would like to think it is. Hell, it's not even Murnau's first horror film! That's right, before directing Max "is he a vampire in real life or isn't he?" Schreck as Count Orlok, he was making another adaptation with one of his first flicks: a Jekyll & Hyde movie featuring Bela Lugosi (in a minor role) back in 1920! Sadly there's no existing footage of this flick, which is really a let down. If I could get my time machine running again, I'd tear a hole in the cosmic rectum ("damn near killed him!") and snag me a reel, but since dime bags of magical hobbit herbs have melted my memory since the days o' Middle Earth, I'll probably forget all about this by the time I get done with this review... damn it. Murnau would go on to continue making movies, delving into the realm of horror only as small rest stops amidst his growing library of drama and romance movies before his demise in 1931 at the tangled, writhing steel hands of an auto accident in Santa Barbara of all places at the age of 42. James Dean road rashes and becomes the object of dorm room walls around the world. Murnau takes the twisted metal dive and no one outside of the realm of horror or Shadow Of The Vampire even knows who he is. Then again, every member of my family since the early 1900s has bitten the dust ala car accident, and none of them got any recognition. The moral? I gotta get me some more auto insurance...