Late, great wacko fruitbag iconoclastic actor Klaus Kinski gives a marvelously threatening, overwhelming, terrifyingly bestial and sometimes even strangely touching performance as Nosferatu, an evil, indestructible, all-powerful vampire who preys upon an affluent aristocratic family in Venice, Italy during the bleak, hopeless, fear-ridden time of the Black Death. Dedicated dying vampire hunter Christopher Plummer and pious, self-righteous priest Donald Pleasence make a futile and foolhardy stand against the foul, parasitic, yet anguished subhuman creature of darkness.
Under Augusto Caminito's able, stately, subdued direction "Nosferatu in Venice" bravely explores mankind's stark fear of and inability to accept his own mortality as well as man's profound, but impractical desire to somehow transcend said mortality. But as the eternally tormented Nosferatu proves immortality can be more of a burden than a blessing, because he and all others like himself are perpetually cursed to endure the suffering of countless mortal others. Tonino Nardi's beauteous, misty, breathtaking cinematography and Luigi Ceccarelli's wondrous, elegant, potent orchestral score prodigiously contribute to the considerable substance of this frighteningly (and, yes, even fascinatingly) morbid, oddly affecting, soulful beauty of a film. The movie's unflinchingly desolate, flesh-crawling, funereal ambiance, relaxed, lulling pace, pervasively nonchalant air of insurmountable nihilism, and somewhat disjointed narrative isn't for every taste, but viewers who are willing to accept this disturbing, challenging, gripping and powerful feature on its own macabre and twisted terms should find it to be very rewarding. Kinski's forceful and singularly wicked presence alone distinguishes this picture as an extraordinary work; few other actors can even begin to convey the same harrowingly tangible sense of extreme unbreakable demonic menace that Kinski effortlessly exuded. A gallant, tough-minded, thematically rich and grotesquely lovely addition to the vampire horror genre.
Under Augusto Caminito's able, stately, subdued direction "Nosferatu in Venice" bravely explores mankind's stark fear of and inability to accept his own mortality as well as man's profound, but impractical desire to somehow transcend said mortality. But as the eternally tormented Nosferatu proves immortality can be more of a burden than a blessing, because he and all others like himself are perpetually cursed to endure the suffering of countless mortal others. Tonino Nardi's beauteous, misty, breathtaking cinematography and Luigi Ceccarelli's wondrous, elegant, potent orchestral score prodigiously contribute to the considerable substance of this frighteningly (and, yes, even fascinatingly) morbid, oddly affecting, soulful beauty of a film. The movie's unflinchingly desolate, flesh-crawling, funereal ambiance, relaxed, lulling pace, pervasively nonchalant air of insurmountable nihilism, and somewhat disjointed narrative isn't for every taste, but viewers who are willing to accept this disturbing, challenging, gripping and powerful feature on its own macabre and twisted terms should find it to be very rewarding. Kinski's forceful and singularly wicked presence alone distinguishes this picture as an extraordinary work; few other actors can even begin to convey the same harrowingly tangible sense of extreme unbreakable demonic menace that Kinski effortlessly exuded. A gallant, tough-minded, thematically rich and grotesquely lovely addition to the vampire horror genre.