Rating of
4/4
This surreal, nightmarish film evokes pure terror
maudet - wrote on 08/23/13
The first time I heard of director Dreyer's amazing, nightmarish masterpiece, VAMPYR (1932), was that it was very similar to the surrealist tone of one of my favorite films ever made, David Lynch's ERASERHEAD (1977). This piqued my interest, and this film found itself near the top of my watchlist. But I was still wary to watch this film. I heard about the strange, grainy video, the washed out dialogue, how this film was as surreal as surreal gets, and then some. But two nights ago, I decided that it was finally time to watch this film.
My initial reaction was the same reaction I had when I watched ERASERHEAD for the first time: "I have no idea what's happening, but I think I like it." The plot is paper thin as we follow our protagonist, Allan Grey, as he uncovers the secrets of a small town he has come across. But the most interesting thing about Allan Grey is that he is completely useless throughout the film, and we don't really know anything about him. While this would greatly annoy me in almost every other movie, in VAMPYR, it works, mainly because VAMPYR does not follow anything even resembling conventional movie-making techniques.
The entire movie has a very surreal, dream-like quality to it (partly because of the aforementioned grainy and washed out footage as well as the delicate, soft dialogue). We are witness to a strange, unfamiliar world where we see images that are bizarre and intriguing, yet haunting and creepy (like the amazing shadow scene in the first half of the film). Dreyer's amazing, gliding camera work makes even those most stationary sets (such as the mansion where much of the film takes place) come to life and breathe before us. The film itself has much difficulty distinguishing reality from dream, and it does this better than almost every other film that attempts this feat.
This film is no doubt not for everyone. It is an incredibly unique film, and is very bizarre, even for fans of surreal cinema. Even ERASERHEAD, in my opinion, made a bit more sense than this. Viewers will no doubt be annoyed by how passive Allan Grey is. Even the few times he does help, he is often accompanied by another person who causes him to act. As I mentioned before, this works remarkably well in this film due to the fact that it is more of a dream. We are Allan Grey, passively witnessing events but very rarely acting.
A lot of the film, while not conventionally frightening, is very unsettling and its images stay with the viewer long after the screen turns to black. When I first watched this film, I was set on figuring out the significance of all the imagery and metaphors featured in the film. Because I was so set on analyzing this film the way I've analyzed films like ERASERHEAD, I don't think I was able to enjoy it properly right away. The next day, however, I sat back and watched the film again, not attempting any dissection, and let its imagery present itself to me, and discovered a much creepier and more haunting film than I had before. Sure, by the fourth or fifth viewing of this film, I will no doubt have a more concrete view of what I believe the film to represent, but for now, and I urge first time viewers to do this as well, it is good enough to be enjoyed on its own.
Some of the acting in this film is a little shaky, though this is mainly because Dreyer preferred to work with amateurs who had no real film experience, it doesn't distract from the film and actually works pretty well in this context. The direction is absolutely beautiful, and the light and shadows are some of the best I've seen in a black and white film. The entire film is covered in a haunting and, frankly, terrifying atmosphere, and this is the film's true appeal along with absolutely fantastic film-making, as the plot itself is nothing particularly revolutionary. While it was ignored by critics and audiences alike in the '30s, it has since found a very dedicated audience and a must-see for all horror fans and is, quite simply, a masterwork of horror cinema.
