As part of the settlement, all copies of Nosferatu were to be destroyed. Fortunately, this edict was not fully carried out. The by now familiar story retains its potency, and actor Max Schreck (allegedly his real name, which loosely translates from German to English as 'maximum terror') lives up to his reputation as the creepiest and ugliest Dracula of all.

Nosferatu is not the best silent German horror film, as The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) is easily superior. It is no longer the best Dracula movie, either, beaten out by Tod Browning's Dracula (1931) and Werner Herzog's 1979 remake. It isn't the best film of 1922 either, upstaged by the lesser known Nanook of the North.

But while Nosferatu cannot quite live up to its reputation as a masterpiece, it is a good film nonetheless, in addition to its unchallenged cultural contributions. Schreck's grotesque appearance may be unintentionally amusing, but the shadows cast by his lengthy finger-claws out-horrors Freddy Kreuger at his best.

Part of the story doesn't seem to work: the 'ghost ship' safely reaches port, and Nosferatu appears to uncharacteristically attack the captain during daylight. (Otherwise, it would be pitch dark, which is admittedly uncinematic.) The mad Renfield-like Knock (Alexander Granach) wanders oddly in and out of the story, and the demise of the despicable count should have little impact on the plague.

The campy performances are in the finest tradition of silent pantomime. The sets, roads, and carriages effectively evoke old central Europe. If Schreck's Nosferatu reminds one too much of "The Simpsons" Mr. Burns, it has to be admitted that the former came first.

Although Bela Lugosi continues to serve as the true prototype for most Dracula films, the original Nosferatu retains its influence. The production of Nosferatu provided the setting of a recent and critically acclaimed film, Shadow of the Vampire (2000).

Drugstore.com Coupons