25 Vampyr

[HerrSchreck]

Iputting forward quite a convincing reading of Gray as a kind of Jesus-like saviour figure (I seem to remember Schreck noting the prevalence of this motif in Dreyer's films in another thread?) .

I think it was my first post on the board where I wrote that a motif which appears in nearly all of his films is the death of a (usually innocent) woman. Many are martyrs, but not all. Owing to his known parental traumas (adoptive and blood), and especially the death of his own mother, he seems to be reliving the same profoundly climactic event over & over again that stamped itself ironbound on his fiber early on.

The theme appears in his earliest films, and carrry thru to his late silents, straight thru all his sound films.

[MichaelB]

If handsome packaging, a thick booklet (& a book), and a well done English language version are your bag: Criterion.

If a commentary by Guillermo Del Toro and a more appropriately aged-looking transfer are your bag: Masters of Cinema.

Er... the MoC has a pretty damn impressive book too!

[Sloper]

I'm guessing Criterion don't offer the 'unrestored' soundtrack? I have no real ear for these things and can't tell much difference, but I think Vampyr should be as scratchy and crackly as possible. Maybe getting into geek territory there, though, and it certainly isn't all that important.

Schreck - I forgot you were talking specifically about women in your post. I guess Leone is the equivalent in Vampyr. It must be said that Allan Gray is a distinctly feminine hero, and given the blood-letting, and especially the dream-burial from which Gray awakes in order to do the business with the hammer, I still think Del Toro's point is an interesting one. The idea that one needs to die in order to live (sounds like a line from a trailer, I know), or in order to give life to others, is certainly one recurring Dreyer motif into which Gray fits.

Interesting that the only other male example I can think of is Claude Zoret, a gay man. There too the point is that love, or salvation, or whatever, can only be attained in death. Oh, and then there is also Jesus himself, of course, in Leaves from Satan's Book.

On reflection, I think this motif isn't so much to do with gender as with attitude: there's always a patient, passive character who rises above everyone else, even if they do so through self-sacrifice, and they leave all the frustrated, impatient sinners behind, dumbfounded and hopefully changed by the experience. So the prince in Der Var Engang is another example: he sacrifices his wealth and comfort in order to teach his wife a lesson, and (if I remember rightly) does so more through patience and fortitude than by countering irascibility with worse irascibility, as Petruchio does in Shakespeare.

Similarly, everyone around Allan Gray is scared or bad-tempered or agitated, while he seems to remain calm and blank throughout, returning to his studies in the midst of a terrible tragedy, and ultimately winning the day by doing almost nothing.

[Tritonemusic]

I'm guessing Criterion don't offer the 'unrestored' soundtrack? I have no real ear for these things and can't tell much difference, but I think Vampyr should be as scratchy and crackly as possible. Maybe getting into geek territory there, though, and it certainly isn't all that important.

Actually, it is kind of important to me. I'm primarily a professional musician/composer but, I've done audio engineering off and on for about 25-30 years. If the Criterion version was treated with noise-reduction, I may not be as interested in it. I love clean sound but, for something like this, I'd prefer to hear it as Dreyer heard it.

Hmmm... the more I think about it, the more I realize that I will have to own both versions.

Thanks for your help, folks. I really appreciate it.

[Adam]

Well, then you have the question of whether Dreyer heard a nice pristine sound that has become crackly with time. There's really no way to know how Dreyer heard it.

[Tritonemusic]

Well, then you have the question of whether Dreyer heard a nice pristine sound that has become crackly with time. There's really no way to know how Dreyer heard it.

Well, yeah...he heard the first generation of whatever media format he was using back then. Still, even in a "relatively pristine" state, the original probably had quite a bit of hiss to begin with. Chances are, it had a lot more hiss than a digitally "restored" version would.

[Tommaso]

Del Toro's commentary, surprisingly, really is the best extra on this set, displaying a genuine and infectious enthusiasm for the film, and putting forward quite a convincing reading of Gray as a kind of Jesus-like saviour figure (I seem to remember Schreck noting the prevalence of this motif in Dreyer's films in another thread?)

I totally agree. The Jesus analogy is to the point, though certainly not the only way to interpret this pretty uninterpretable film. But what really amazed me about the Del Toro commentary is the idea to see the whole film as a 'memento mori' in the sense the term has in art history, and with Del Toro's explanations about the specific imagery connected with it in mind, it's indeed hard to ignore the validity of this idea, given all the skulls, clocks, dancing etc. in the film. Loosely connected to this, it was very nice to become aware of the references to existing paintings in Dreyer's film, as far as they are pointed out in the Tybjerg piece (also great!). But the Del Toro commentary might indeed be the best extra, especially if you know the film quite well and don't necessarily need Rayns' more scene-specific explanations. For me at least, Del Toro's excursions into art history, philosophy and religious beliefs proved to be more inspiring. One of the best commentaries I heard for quite a while.

[Tootletron]

... it was very nice to become aware of the references to existing paintings in Dreyer's film, as far as they are pointed out in the Tybjerg piece (also great!).

This is something I was hoping for on the Criterion dvd. I would've loved more background information on the paintings in Vampyr, who painted them, when and why they were chosen, assuming Dreyer picked them out. Did the MoC version go into that kind of detail?

[Sloper]

I'm not sure Del Toro identified the particular artworks that appear in the film, but I seem to remember him referring to a few specific artists he thought might have had an impact - his accent makes some of the names a bit indecipherable, but perhaps someone more knowledgeable than I am about art would recognise them. I wonder if anyone's done a study of Dreyer's use of paintings hanging on walls? It's a PhD thesis waiting to happen.

Tommaso - yes the memento mori stuff was also fascinating, and discreetly showed Del Toro's familiarity with Dreyer's other films. Right from the second (or third?) shot of The President (an hourglass running out), this is a really central theme in Dreyer's work, and a great way of beginning to make sense of the (I agree, uninterpretable) Vampyr.

Tybjerg slipped my mind when I posted before, but he's wonderful as always. I could listen to that calmly authoritative voice all day. You can pretty much guarantee that any contribution he makes to a dvd package will be the best thing on it.

Er, except for the film, of course. Mustn't forget that...

[Tommaso]

Tootletron: no, I was referring to the Tybjerg documentary when talking about the artworks, and that is also on the CC disc. Nothing more to be found on the MoC. Del Toro, as Sloper says, is talking about the influence of art more on a general thematic level without precise references mostly.
Btw: does anyone know what that painting is that is shown at one point behind Allan Gray, depicting it seems a young man in a sort of 'artistic', writing(?) pose. It's shown only very briefly, but a friend of mine whom I watched the film with thought it reminded him of Lord Byron or Shelley. Neither del Toro nor Rayns make a specific reference to it at that point of the film.

[What A Disgrace]

My disc finally arrived today; I promptly devoured the film and the Rayns commentary.

There isn't much I can say that hasn't been said before; and I'm not very good at communicating feelings and observations anyway. With the exception of Michael (which is no minor film), every film of Dreyer's that I've seen has helped to shape my personal view of cinema, and I can only imagine that I'm going to go to bed tonight with this film in the back of my eyes, as with The Passion of Joan of Arc, Day of Wrath, Ordet and Gertrud; each time I see them.

I think only Melies has come anywhere close to evoking that kind of enthusiasm for cinema in me.

[T99]

This DVD package is simply amazing. The only thing lacking are (the film historically very important) nude pictures of Rena Mandel (Gisele). Where can I get these?

[ltfontaine]

Vampyr is inexhaustible, elusive and so intractably strange, it’s exhilarating to finally have unlimited access to it in a form that invites repeated viewings. It still makes my head hurt, but moreso now in a good way.

Dreyer is my favorite filmmaker, and Vampyr such a perfect aberration, so rich and wild that it expands the overall depth and dimension of the artist’s work, sharpens an edge that it wouldn’t have otherwise. After the tribulations attending Joan, Vampyr is ripe with the unfettered adventure and anticipated promise of Film Production-Carl Dreyer; it is, as Rossellini famously said of A King in New York, “the film of a free man”—even if the man was only briefly free. Dreyer’s achievement without Vampyr would be no less formidable, but the full range of this artist’s vision would be much less in evidence without it.

Watching repeatedly answers no questions, only raises more of them. A few random thoughts—

Is the camera, as Rayns suggests in his commentary, reflective of Allan Gray’s consciousness, or is it consistently autonomous, a furtive, mischievous, disembodied subject that answers only to the formal objectives of the film? (Have the Quays ever cited Vampyr as an influence on their work, which often shares this disturbing, antic POV, suggestive of what Burroughs called “insect intelligence.”)

To the extent that Vampyr does actually draw on Le Fanu’s Carmilla, this passage describing the withdrawal of an apparition evokes what Dreyer may have taken away from In a Glass Darkly (apart from the title of that collection and some specific details of live burial from The Room in the Dragon Volant).

“A block of stone could not have been more still. There was not the slightest stir of respiration. As I stared at it, the figure appeared to have changed its place, and was now nearer the door; then, close to it, the door opened, and it passed out.”

Like so much of Vampyr, this sequence of images defies waking experience, conveys the abrupt disjunctions of a nightmare. Dreyer’s and Mate’s camera is alive, but it’s neither human nor corporeal. Same goes for the sound, which we can be grateful is not “restored” beyond its current standard.

What to make of Marguerite Chopin, the vampyr herself, a far cry from the captivating Carmilla? Rayns comments on Marguerite’s blindness, but what of her severe androgyny? Even if Dreyer has apparently taken very little from Le Fanu, he had, one assumes, read enough of Carmilla to register its eroticism, and subsequently made a creative choice to desexualize his own vampire tale. Is this choice reflective of Dreyer’s apparent intention to render an experience devoid of, even inconsistent with, human warmth? Vampyr is about as cold as a film can get.

Rayns contends that the film’s fractured syntax rights itself during the live burial scenes, assuming, ironically, a more conventional mise-en-scene. And he’s right, up to a point, as part of what loads the sequence so full of dread is its inexorable forward motion as Gray looks on (or out), paralyzed. But as the coffin passes out of the building and under the trees, the shadows of leaves move on the lid in a manner that is manifestly simulated, as though branches are merely being waved about from above by unseen hands. It is a singularly odd moment in Dreyer’s work, calling the medium’s artifice to attention in a way that I do not recall anywhere else. (And does Gray’s stiff, slumped figure on the bench, as his coffin passes by, recall the final shot of Un chien andalou?)

The narrator’s waking coma in The Room in the Dragon Volant is expressly attributed to a narcotic, but Dreyer, characteristically, suggests the possibility that Gray is drugged without ever visibly confirming it. Always the master of ambiguity, Dreyer leaves this detail open and unresolved, just as he declines to define, or even narrow down, the world of possible meanings that thrive in his films.

All attempts to justify the performance by Nicolas de Gunzburg as “suitably blank” are for naught. As much as I love Vampyr, de Gunzburg is an irreconcilable drag on the proceedings, an actively distracting presence. In the Drums’ book on Dreyer, My Only Great Passion, they contend that Dreyer was not phased by the prospect of featuring the Baron in such a central role, as he had successfully directed non-actors in the past. (It is unclear whether the director had specifically expressed this view in his exchanges with the Drums.) But Dreyer was, from the beginning of his career, insistent that the faces of his actors embody the qualities of their characters, and that they function as formal elements of supreme importance. One can imagine many faces that would have served Dreyer well in the role of Allan Gray, but unfortunately, de Gunzburg’s slack mug is not among them.

Are any of the buildings in which the film was shot still standing? What is that area like today?

Guillermo del Toro's commentary is brilliant, makes me wish I liked his films more than I do.

Nick, thanks for all of the devotion and hard work that has gone into this excellent release.

[Tommaso]

What to make of Marguerite Chopin, the vampyr herself, a far cry from the captivating Carmilla? Rayns comments on Marguerite’s blindness, but what of her severe androgyny? Even if Dreyer has apparently taken very little from Le Fanu, he had, one assumes, read enough of Carmilla to register its eroticism, and subsequently made a creative choice to desexualize his own vampire tale.

Interesting question, I often wondered about that myself. I have no real explanation for this nor anything else in the film, but would somewhat tentatively argue that Dreyer, while being aware of the erotic charge normally associated with the vampire tale, played it down in order to bring forward the quality of the INEXPLICABLE, not (psycho-)analyzable quality of the unknown force threatening Allan Gray. But still it's a force which manifests itself in the everyday and distorts it. Apart from the much-discussed disorientation in the narrative and the camerawork, another indication may be that the vampire's assistant, the village doctor, at least for me has always been much more creepy and threatening than Chopin.

The androgynous quality, I would argue, is also shared by and is much more pronounced in Léone (I'd second the whimsical request above for nude stills of Rena Mandel, for instance, but not necessarily for some of Sybille Schmitz as shown in "Vampyr", even though Schmitz could be sexy as hell in other films). I have wondered whether Schmitz' androgyny in this film might be a reflection of a threat posed by homosexuality, especially given that Gray is played by Ginzburg. But I discarded this idea, simply because Gray's relationship with Gisele is not threatened by Leone, but by the doctor in the first place. And the doctor's abduction of Gisele and subsequent events do have a certain erotic charge, with Mandel bound and struggling for escape as if this was some sort of early bondage shot...

So, I don't know whether one can really speak of a de-sexualized film, but in any case Dreyer's tactics prevent the film from becoming 'readable' in an all too easy manner like most other vampire films, even those early ones. For me, this doesn't necessarily mean a lack of human warmth (think of the very end of the film with Allan and Gisele), but Dreyer transcends the human into the spiritual/metaphysical, as I think he does in all of his late(r) films. That again may of course be read as an opposition against the erotic.

[ltfontaine]

Good point, Tommaso, about the androgyny that marks virtually all of the characters in Vampyr, with the possible exception of Gisele, although even she is pretty well buttoned up, with her boyish profile and hair pulled back. (It appears, however, that Dreyer did permit Mandel to break the director’s taboo against the use of makeup.) Vampyr is drained of the strong, subtle undercurrent of eroticism that runs through so many of Dreyer’s other films, I think for the reason you suggest—that it denatures the proceedings, makes them less recognizably human, less permeable to analysis. Dreyer effectively neutralizes the potential for romantic chemistry between Allan and Gisele to the extent that the denouement in the forest feels oddly perfunctory, even ironic—although it’s hard to say whether another actor in the lead role might have altered this.

I think Dreyer’s later films, especially, are remarkable for evoking a range of human experience in which the physical dimension, even the carnal, is in harmony with the spiritual. If he had been permitted to film Jesus, we might have seen the ultimate expression of this element in his work.

[Tommaso]

Vampyr is drained of the strong, subtle undercurrent of eroticism that runs through so many of Dreyer’s other films, I think for the reason you suggest—that it denatures the proceedings, makes them less recognizably human, less permeable to analysis.

If you concede this, I'm surprised about your dislike of Ginzburg in the film. I would indeed agree with anyone who describes his playing as "suitably blank", and if you say that Dreyer took care that the faces of his actors are in tune or expressive of the quality of the character they embody, I would argue that this is true of Ginzburg here, too. We do not learn much about Allan Gray's background and motivations, though we can guess that he's someone who investigates the occult arts;I don't remember now whether this is expressedly said in the film or not. But all in all, he is an 'empty' character to whom things just HAPPEN, and who, as Sloper argues above, stays calm and comparatively passive throughout the film. This is nicely expressed in the 'etherial' quality of his face, and this 'etherial' quality only adds to make him "less recognizably human" and "less permeable to analysis", i.e. it just underlines the general tone of the film.

Dreyer effectively neutralizes the potential for romantic chemistry between Allan and Gisele to the extent that the denouement in the forest feels oddly perfunctory, even ironic—although it’s hard to say whether another actor in the lead role might have altered this.

I don't think another actor would have changed the impact. I don't believe it is meant to be ironic, but it is an attempt to continue the dream-like quality of the film, as if the dream isn't over although Chopin and the doctor are gone. The world of "Vampyr" remains haunted by transcendent forces, though perhaps now of a different kind. But there's no re-establishement of everyday reality after the intrusive occult forces are conquered, unlike in "Dracula" or even "Nosferatu".

I think Dreyer’s later films, especially, are remarkable for evoking a range of human experience in which the physical dimension, even the carnal, is in harmony with the spiritual.

Would you say that about "Gertrud", too? It seems to me that in this film this harmony is not there, or rather, that it is held in a catatonic limbo where nothing, neither the erotic nor the spiritual, are allowed to express itself or develop fruitfully.

[ltfontaine]

Tommaso, you eloquently sum up the defense that is often raised on behalf of de Gunzburg in relation to Dreyer’s agreement to cast him in Vampyr, and maybe this truly is a matter of subjective response. I am pained to say anything negative about a film that I otherwise love and admire, but for me, the Baron’s incongruity among the cast, as a presence as much as a performer, surpasses what is required to convey his role as a semi-somnambulant dreamer caught between fantasy and reality, as the prologue and printed program describe him. He moves so awkwardly before the camera, and his facial expressions are often so goofy, that he disrupts the meticulously conceived pace, rhythms and atmosphere orchestrated by Dreyer and Mate. If one thinks of Dreyer’s extreme care in choreographing the simplest movements of Preben Lerdorff Rye in Ordet, as just one example, it’s hard to imagine him being satisfied with de Gunzburg’s clumsy, self-conscious performance. Or think of how much Dreyer and Ralph Holm agonized over the casting of the doctor before discovering Jan Hieronimko. Perhaps this is one instance in which Dreyer compromised his perfectionism in exchange for the artistic freedom he hoped to realize through his new production company, funded by de Gunzburg. (It’s not clear from various sources whether de Gunzburg stipulated that he must be permitted to play “a role” or “the leading role” in exchange for his financial support.)

Is it overstating the emphasis that the film places on the actors’ abstract qualities to note that the credits designate them as “die Gestalten des Films,” or is this terminology ever employed in other German films of the period? I don’t recall any.

I don't think another actor would have changed the impact. I don't believe it is meant to be ironic, but it is an attempt to continue the dream-like quality of the film, as if the dream isn't over although Chopin and the doctor are gone. The world of "Vampyr" remains haunted by transcendent forces, though perhaps now of a different kind. But there's no re-establishement of everyday reality after the intrusive occult forces are conquered, unlike in "Dracula" or even "Nosferatu".

This is a canny observation about the conclusion of the film, which does not, as you say, end the dream, even if it ends the nightmare. Whether or not the casting of another actor whose demeanor could have ignited a credible sense of attraction between Allan and Gisele would have altered the way that Dreyer frames the scene, and whether it would have improved or detracted from the overall impact of the narrative, is a matter of conjecture. For me, de Gunzburg is, as I said before, an active distraction and does not represent the ideal candidate for his role.

Would you say that about "Gertrud", too? It seems to me that in this film this harmony is not there, or rather, that it is held in a catatonic limbo where nothing, neither the erotic nor the spiritual, are allowed to express itself or develop fruitfully.

“Harmony” was a poor word choice, as I did not mean to suggest that the characters in the later films achieved an effective or fulfilling affirmation of spiritual experience (although this may occur to some degree at the conclusion of Ordet). Rather I meant that, in these films, Dreyer manages to render fully dimensional humans who navigate real, recognizable confluences of the body and the spirit. The most remarkable thing about Gertrude, specifically, is that Dreyer achieves this through audacious formal means, especially the highly stylized performances of his cast, which are anything but “natural.”

[Tommaso]

maybe this truly is a matter of subjective response. [...]He moves so awkwardly before the camera, and his facial expressions are often so goofy, that he disrupts the meticulously conceived pace, rhythms and atmosphere orchestrated by Dreyer and Mate.

Yes, it might very well be a matter of subjective response. Your description of Gunzburg's acting is to the point, but for me it enhances the hallucinatory feel of the film rather than distracting from it (especially his facial expressions). Of course we'll never know whether Dreyer let Gunzburg get away with it because without Gunzburg there wouldn't have been a "Vampyr" at all, or whether Dreyer simply put to use the Baron's limited capabilities to greater effect; for me this doesn't necessarily conflict with the meticulous casting of the doctor. But I believe we will not come to an agreement about this.

Is it overstating the emphasis that the film places on the actors’ abstract qualities to note that the credits designate them as “die Gestalten des Films,” or is this terminology ever employed in other German films of the period? I don’t recall any.

I don't recall any at the moment either, but the phrasing doesn't seem at all unusual to me for a German film of that time. Old German credits often used words and phrases that sound somewhat unusual today, probably because the language has changed more than English did in the 20th century, and also because often terminology was taken over from stage productions. That is one of the foremost reasons why I object against English title cards in German silents, for example: the translation inevitably loses this specific 'old-fashioned' quality; "directed by" or "direction" is a correct translation of "Spielleitung", but it doesn't conjure up the feeling that makes "Spielleitung" different from "Regie".

Oh, and thanks for the explanation of 'harmony' in the later films and "Gertrud". I couldn't agree more.

[HerrSchreck]

Interesting that the banner running at the bottom of the page is for a Chinese company that manufactures DRYERS.

I couldn't help but comment on the idea of de Gunzberg as a distraction to the proceedings in Vampyr.

I think it's clear that you've held out watching the film until a suitable edition came out, and this is more than likely your first brush with the title? I ask because it's a common initial response to De Gunzberg when first viewing the film. I kind of had the same response at the first time, as well.

But as my viewings increased I began to understand-- or at least theorize-- what it was that led Dreyer to be pleased or at least content with this performance:

Grey's character is an intruder to a world into which he seems to have accidentally broken in to. From the beginning, all he seems to earn are strange looks, ill-will, he sees things he's not 'supposed' to see, hears things he's not 'supposed' to hear. In terms of narrative, he's one of the most impotent characters ever to be at the helm of any film. He's like a deep sea diver breaching the tough entry to some obscure underwater cave miles under the surface, and getting odd looks from the weird-eyed denizens of the deep as they go about their business. His impotence is manifested to the degree of literal transparency, until finally at the end the possibility of a positive action with conclusive repercussions presents itself (the driving of the stake, etc).

With this in mind, it makes sense that Grey doesn't 'work'. He doesn't fit in, doesn't integrate with his surroundings. I see de Gunzberg as a human manifestation of the camera itself. Not the photographs that the camera takes, with all of the high subjective liberation of Mate's execution of the film, but the physical apparatus of the camera itself.. it's gears and rollers, lenses and iron compartments. The same way the actors and sets and lighting are put together and set off to operate in glorious synch for the benefit of the camera that will duly record the proceedings of each take, and turn them into something magical and coherent and unified... so do the narrative surroundings, all these stranded elements in otherworldly way-stations biding or wasting time, gain meaning in the film, simply via the mere presence of an extremely passive Grey. He observes them like the camera, and like the camera he moves in, moves out, looks a little closer, turns this way, and with each active/passive (he is both at the same time) move he makes, he sets off and defines the narrative.. not by acting, but simply by beholding something or other. He really is, for the first two thirds of the film, quite a unique narrative driver in the annals of the cinema.

And in the end of course, there are no real blazingly effective performances in this film. I-- to this day-- think that the casting of Hieronimko was hopelessly naiive, as he looks to me more like a kindly old sweets shop owner than some sinister killer of a doctor. Sybille has her moments, but she can seem overwrought at times. The girl who plays Gisele is utterly dreadful, with euthanized doe eyes completely vacant of intent or substance. I'd say Maurice Schutz comes closest to delivering a real "performance" among the sum cast.

But everything is unusual here in this film, which is not about performance. Everything we hold so dear about Vampyr is set off by these non-performances and the borderline-frustrating aspect they donate to the film. Everything is so stilted and unlike anything Dreyer-- or anyone else, notwithstanding the obvious tributing Epstein, Impressionism in general, and Usher specifically-- that it's very difficult to know how much of a traditional style of cinematic performance Dreyer would have wanted.. if he, say, had an experienced and talented film actor available to play the part with Gunzbergs acquiescence. I for one think a "good" performance would negate much of the avant garde obscurity of the film's stubbornly dense surface, and remove much of the unease from the viewer, who, as it stands now viz de Gunz, feels stranded in a strange and unfamiliar-- and unforgiving-- place. The surroundings are already alien and rendered with an avant sensibility.. but with no primary narrative ally, or lead persona to inhabit comfortably and with sympathy, and with all the standard narrative anticipatory earmarks, the viewer is left doubly stranded, and more subject to the strangeness of the rhythms and denizens of the goings on. It's almost like there is no actual Alan Grey-- because we are Alan Grey. de Gunzberg is simply our own HELLO MY NAME IS tag as we enter DReyer's world.

[ltfontaine]

I first encountered Vampyr sometime in the Seventies, when it used to play regularly on a funky UHF channel in Detroit that filled hours of airtime into the wee hours with crummy prints of films in the public domain. Joan would show up there too, occasionally, so I guess these are the first two Dreyer films I ever saw. What can I say about my first impressions? Vampyr is a movie that messed with my mind, filled me with dread, less on the basis of its “plot” than its obstinate, eerie perversity. And maybe that initial uneasiness did derive partially from the ultra-peculiar, rubber-faced presence of the Baron. But even before I came to know the story of how de Gunzburg ended up in Vampyr, watching it over the years on a succession of lousy VHS tapes, I began to feel that he wasn’t out of place on purpose, he was just out of place.

Schreck, you’ve beautifully amplified on the thesis that Dreyer deliberately and deftly deployed de Gunzburg to capitalize on the Baron’s blank, passive, discomfiting screen presence. Dreyer did, by all accounts, instruct the actors in Vampyr to behave as in a dream—direction that resulted in subdued, unnatural performances that seem to have been transmitted from another world. Gray is, as you say, a watcher; and I think the film’s cold, dispassionate, disembodied POV, often furtively guiding our own view along a route, or in a direction, independent of Gray’s, functions as a malevolent presence that always knows where to look when Gray does not. Gray is lost and confused, but the camera never is. So I don’t necessarily agree that de Gunzburg is “a human manifestation of the camera,” but I do think that the tension between Gray’s gaze and the camera’s is part of what makes the film so disturbing.

Everything is so stilted and unlike anything Dreyer-- or anyone else, notwithstanding the obvious tributing Epstein, Impressionism in general, and Usher specifically-- that it's very difficult to know how much of a traditional style of cinematic performance Dreyer would have wanted.

I agree that Dreyer manifestly did not want a traditional performance from any of his “figures,” which is why I raised the question earlier about the credits’ use of “gestalten” to designate the film’s players. Dreyer was clearly after something unique and disorienting from his performers, de Gunzburg included. I just wonder whether what he got from his patron was less in synch with the director’s vision, as evident elsewhere in the film, than he had hoped. What was Dreyer going to do, recast the role?

[Sloper]

Fascinating discussion; a few long-winded thoughts:

Watching Sjostrom’s The Phantom Carriage the other night, it struck me there was a kind of similarity between that film and Vampyr. Sjostrom makes constant use of in-frame light sources that bathe the settings and the actors in a kind of numinous, unearthly light, so that even during those gruelling scenes of cruelty, drunkenness, and worldly degradation, it is as though the spiritual drama behind all this is constantly manifested through the cinematography. The same effect is achieved more obviously by the shots of the ‘transparent’ dead souls moving about among the living. This is what The Phantom Carriage is all about: the spiritual implications of our actions on earth. The lead character has to get to a point where he can perceive this dimension to his existence, and alter his behaviour accordingly.

Clearly, Dreyer isn’t being so didactic in Vampyr, but in a way a lot of his films deal with this same theme. I guess Joan and Ordet are the most obvious examples – they’re about acknowledging a transcendent reality, and giving this priority over the physical and the mundane. Del Toro makes a big deal out of the ‘whiteness’ in Vampyr, and the fact that de Gunzberg’s character is called ‘Gray’. Gray’s expressionless face obviously contributes to the overall hazy, whited-out look of the film. It’s comparable to that ‘I’m somewhere else right now’ look that Falconetti does again and again in Joan, and as in that film the starkness and realism of the performance fitted perfectly with the stark white backgrounds, so de Gunzberg’s doped-up expression blends in with the hazy, ill-defined objects that surround him. Its otherworldly look also manifests Gray’s immersion in otherworldliness.

In an obvious sense it’s a lousy performance, but it works, I think, because it embodies the ‘somewhere else’ theme at the heart of the film. The ultimate, and most brilliant, expression of this is of course the premature burial scene, where, as in Sjostrom’s film, the hero observes his own dead body, and is completely enveloped by the other world. The fact that Gray’s out-of-body self then disappears, and he sees from inside the coffin; and then, as the coffin passes the bench, his slumped form is transparent, crystallising into the opacity of earthly existence only as the pallbearers disappear; and then he stakes the vampire, causing its spiritual death to be manifested physically… I’m too small to impose any kind of ‘interpretation’ on such a richly suggestive piece of film-making, but it’s clearly playing around with these ideas about liminality, the unrealness of the real world, the (perhaps) more meaningful reality that lies beyond it, and de Gunzberg’s job is simply to be a physical presence whose true being is invisible to the naked eye. The moments where the camera seems to show Gray’s point of view, but then turns out to be going in a different direction from him, contribute to this effect beautifully – it’s a bit like the spirit that is doing something different from the body.

Schreck’s comment about the ‘HELLO MY NAME IS’ tag made me realise what de Gunzberg reminds me of. He looks, and moves, just like a character in a computer game, one of those beautifully rendered but not quite human 3-D figures who wonders around with the same stupid look on his face whatever is happening. As well as being an intrusive stranger in the world he enters, however, he also fits right in, enjoying that ambiguous makes-sense-but-also-doesn’t relationship with his surroundings as we all do in our dreams.

[ltfontaine]

Vampyr is, absolutely, a delirious, evanescent liminal space, sublime in the literal sense, invoking awe of forces and experience beyond our understanding. The film plays on our fears not only of what might lie across the border, but of how easily we might slip across it, like Allan Gray, to find ourselves adrift in a place where the rules do not apply or keep us safe. It’s a fear not just of death, but of madness, or something even worse than we can imagine.

Isn’t liminality at the core of Dreyer’s method, especially in the later films? He revels in the undefined spaces between and in the cinema’s uniquely suited means to explore them, to show us something that defies our capacity to define and control.

Tommaso, Schreck, Sloper, I fully endorse your collective thoughts on the function of Allan Gray in Vampyr, I just sometimes wish he’d been brought to (half) life by someone a bit less clumsy in front of the camera. Gray is certainly out of his depth, but I’m not sure his portrayer needed to be.

[Tommaso]

Vampyr is, absolutely, a delirious, evanescent liminal space, sublime in the literal sense, invoking awe of forces and experience beyond our understanding. The film plays on our fears not only of what might lie across the border, but of how easily we might slip across it, like Allan Gray, to find ourselves adrift in a place where the rules do not apply or keep us safe. It’s a fear not just of death, but of madness, or something even worse than we can imagine.

Absolutely. But while I agree that this liminality is indeed a main part of Dreyer's films, "Vampyr" is perhaps the one that reflects this most directly in terms of filmic disorientation. Your remark above suddenly reminded me of the words of a friend of mine who watched "Vampyr" for the first time recently and who said that the film forcibly reminded him of Lynch's "Inland Empire". And in a way, I find that a very acute perception if I think of the steady passages of Allan through rooms that always seem to lead elsewhere than expected, the doubling or tripling of Gray in the burial sequence, etc. In this respect, "Vampyr" is an astonishingly modern film.

[Darth Lavender]

Just out of curiosity, has it been confirmed that Criterion's one and only soundtrack is the 'restored'?

(Personally, on a movie like Vampyr, I think unrestored would actually be better. It's subtitled, so intelligibility of the dialogue isn't an issue, and all that crackling, etc. certainly suits the film)

Still happy with my gorgeous Criterion, regardless.

[DignanSWE]

MoC'dvd was reviewed on Swedish tv-channel TV4 today. The reviewer didn't quite convince the hosts that it was an interesting movie:

"Vad är det du gillar hos de här vampyrfilmerna från 30-talet; vad är det som är så speciellt med dem?"
'What is it that you like about these vampire movis from the thirties? What's so special about them?'

"Den känns lite långsam."
'It seems to be boring.'

"Orkar man se den här filmen? [....] Orkar man se en svartvit rulle?"
'Can you see this movie without falling asleep? [...] Can you really watch a black and white movie without falling asleep?'

"Lyfter filmen av det*?"
'Is the film more interesting to see if you know that*?'

"Droppar man lite om den här franske killen Dreyer..."
'??????? a little about this French guy Dreyer...'

*that Baron Nicolas de Gunzburg became an editor at Vogue