诺斯费拉图：夜晚的幽灵

“当吸血鬼也想来到人间得到爱……”

这部电影给我的感觉并不恐怖，而是冷。这种冷不至于毛骨悚然，除了用光暗、声音来渲染，在金斯基和阿佳妮的缓慢的肢体语言和精湛演技中更能慢慢渗出德古拉伯爵的冷和孤独。

影片中有好多令我印象深刻的镜头。

影片一开头就暗示德古拉伯爵渴望并计划着来到人间。吸血鬼的化身蝙蝠在天空中飞翔而寻觅的姿态，热爱丈夫的露茜被不祥的梦吓醒，瑞费尔德先生委托乔纳森出发谈话中频频出现诡异的笑声。

在招待乔纳森的晚餐里，在黑暗和白光投射下，德古拉听着阴山古堡常有的寒风呼啸，表现出对乔纳森到来的一丝喜悦：“听，听，黑夜之子又在唱歌了。”他盯着乔纳森吃饭，克制着内心的欲望，直到哈克不小心割伤手指流出血才露出嗜血欲望。乔纳森后退着害怕地看着他，他又抑制住内心的欲望了。

德古拉伯爵急切地签下买房合同后的深夜，他在阴暗的隧道慢慢走向哈克的房间，露出本性，决定干掉乔纳森。乔纳森此时才真正地感到恐惧。然而伯爵似乎感应到露茜在梦游中惊醒并呼喊乔纳森，他又若有所思地留下乔纳森活口，成为要挟露茜的爱的理由。

我觉得最好看的是露西首次与德古拉伯爵见面的过程。露茜整理着头发，忽然门就打开了。阿佳妮饰演的露茜听着门声和脚步，看见伯爵的影子却不见身体，她慢慢展开的肢体动作和表情仿佛在说：“有一股寒气随之而来，不能动弹，我感到害怕却要与之对抗。”当伯爵提出渴望得到露茜一点爱的要求，甚至要挟着他能令乔纳森恢复记忆，露茜毫不恐惧，更为这份爱展现出她的勇气、圣洁、不可侵犯：“休想。我甚至不会把这份爱给上帝。如果乔纳森不能拥有我的爱，那么，没人会拥有了。”面对贞洁而坚定的露茜，即使是吸血鬼也只能被挫败地离开。

露茜决定牺牲自己杀死德古拉伯爵，面对张着爪扑向她的伯爵，她感到一丝害怕。当她轻轻地推开伯爵时，伯爵低沉地妥协，露茜依旧圣洁得不可侵犯。

整部片子以阴冷气氛为基调，但在冷下面有着人之间的暖：露茜和乔纳林之间有着炽热的爱——乔纳森为了改善生活而冒险来到德古拉伯爵的古堡，面对着德古拉伯爵的强烈要求，露茜丝毫不动摇，坚定不会施舍伯爵一丝爱；面对着瘟疫，乐观的人们利用生命尽头时光尽情享乐。

在2020年看这部片子有种特别的感觉。德古拉伯爵吸血鬼化身的蝙蝠，带着瘟疫来到人间。影片最后虽然德古拉死于人类手下，但在大自然法则底下，象征着死亡、疾病的吸血鬼落在下一个被选中的人身上，乔纳森成为了下一个吸血鬼，他悄悄地骑着马奔向了未知的远方。

人类在大自然中探索到的科学知识，自信地以为能够解释大自然；大自然悄悄地以某些方式给予人类未知程度的灾害。

2003年的SARS病毒爆发，国人好不容易战胜了它，本应以此为诫，建立防备知识和制度，可是17年后的2020年，传染性病毒再一次到来并爆发，再一次击倒某些愚昧官员的自信。2003年国人付出巨大代价才从SARS病毒获取知识；如今世界各国仍要付出巨大代价才能从大自然中获取知识。

此时乔纳森伯爵离去，未知何时再次降临。

To Be Read Aloud in His Voice, Obviously

转载自：Lithub

ByWernerHerzog December 16, 2019

A gloomy moon shines on the silhouette of a gloomy castle. The coach drives through an arched doorway into a sort of forecourt. Harker climbs out, and the coachman indicates with an imperious gesture that he should mount the steps before him. Harker remains standing indecisively before a large, closed portal. As he is mustering the courage to knock, the leaves of the door creak, and slowly, very slowly they swing open of their own accord. Inside all is dark.

Out of the darkness emerges an almost rigid figure in a tight-fitting black jacket. Its shoulders hunch forward slightly, and its hands are cramped together. The legs appear to be long and thin, and the fingers seem to be long as well, pale, with elongated claw-like nails. The face is as pale as a corpse, the head completely bald. The ears are crumpled, and pointed like a bat’s.

The eyes that stare at Jonathan cause us, like him, to shudder. Count Dracula? Jonathan asks. Yes, he is Count Dracula, and he welcomes him to his castle. He has been expecting him and invites him to enter. The night is cold, and he must be tired and hungry, the Count says.

Dracula takes a lit candle from a ledge along the wall and lights the way. When he holds the candle in front of himself for a moment, Harker thinks he can see the light shining through his body. But that effect disappears almost at once, for the Count takes pains to keep the candle to one side of his body. The door creaks shut behind them.

*

The dining hall, lit by candles. A fire flickers in the fireplace, casting crazy shadows on the walls and ceiling. The table, chairs, and other furniture very large. A long oak table and chairs with high, uncomfortable backs. We can tell how thick the walls are by the embrasures of the windows, which are barred. Despite its generous proportions, the room feels gloomy and inhospitable.

Two trunks with iron fittings, apparently locked for centuries. On the table stands an iron candelabrum from the late Middle Ages, and indeed everything here seems to originate in that period. The table is set with a sumptuous meal, but for only one person.

Dracula takes the seat at the head of the table and places Harker beside him where the meal prepared for the guest has been laid out. Harker hesitates, not sure at first how to break the silence; out of embarrassment he begins to talk business, producing the papers on the house and a letter from Renfield. He explains that the folded sheet of paper contains the layout of the house, which will certainly be of interest to the Count. Dracula pays it no mind, however; he has his eye fixed on Jonathan. He should help himself, he says softly; unfortunately he will have to dine alone.

The knife slips and slices into his thumb. In a flash Dracula is standing beside him, grasping his wrist.

It is almost midnight, and at this hour he, the Count, does not eat. Unfortunately, too, the servants are not available now, so Jonathan should allow him, the Count, to see to his comfort. Dracula speaks with exceptional courtesy, all in a very soft voice. Something about it conveys menace; his very presence fills us with trepidation.

Jonathan overcomes his nervousness and begins to eat heartily. The long journey has indeed made him hungry, and he applies himself enthusiastically to the wine. After a while he senses he is being watched intently and looks up. We see Dracula from close up. He is hiding his face behind Renfield’s letter, which is encoded in almost illegible hieroglyphs. Slowly he raises his eyes from the page. His gaze meets Harker’s. Both hold their breath for a moment, and then Harker resumes eating. Suddenly a small grandfather clock buzzes and begins to strike.

The clock close up. With every strike a little skeleton hits a small anvil with an ax. At the stroke of 12 a door opens, and the figure of death appears, holding a scythe. It swishes the scythe mechanically through the air, then disappears jerkily behind its door.

Dracula is highly aroused. He pricks up his ears. Suddenly the grisly howling of wolves can be heard from outside. Listen, Dracula says, those are the children of night. What music they make! He notices Harker’s terror, but then Harker catches himself and assumes a sheep-like expression. Ah, young man, Dracula sighs, as a city dweller he, Jonathan, cannot place himself in the soul of a huntsman.

Harker has become shaky and does not pay proper attention as he cuts himself a piece of bread. The knife slips and slices into his thumb. In a flash Dracula is standing beside him, grasping his wrist. He is about to apply his mouth to the blood, but Harker’s alarmed reaction causes him to pause. A terrible conflict takes place inside the Count. Then he releases Harker’s hand, excusing himself with the argument that the knife might be contaminated and Harker could end up with blood poisoning.

He should let him suck the wound—the oldest cure in the world. But Jonathan declines politely, saying it is nothing, a tiny cut like that is not worth mentioning. But to Dracula the wound proves irresistible; he can no longer control himself—or can he? No, he refuses to allow himself to show his true face so soon. He turns away, starting to return to his seat. But as he turns, his hand, as if no longer in his power, darts toward Harker’s, and faster than the speed of light seizes it like a steel claw.

The rest of Dracula’s body spins as if electrified, and at that same moment his mouth attaches itselfto Harker’s thumb like a leech. For several seconds the two of them remain motionless, until the vampire lets go, as if struck by a blow. He recoils at his own loss of self-control. Jonathan should understand, he says, he wants only the best for him.

Harker, by now on his feet, backs away and falls into a large leather chair near the fire. The flitting shadows of the flames are joined by two large fluttering, flitting bats. Slowly, very slowly the vampire approaches. They should stay up together, he says softly; sunrise is still a long way off, and during the day he is always out and about. Overcome with nightmarish fear, Harker shrinks deep into the armchair.

*

Lucy’s room. She is tossing and turning, tormented by dark dreams, when a slight sound makes her sit up suddenly, her hair wild. She looks like someone who is not yet awake. The window is open, and the curtains stir slightly in the nocturnal breeze. A large black bat has become tangled in a curtain, where it is jerking its wings and clinging to the fabric with its hook-like claws. Its mouth gapes wide as it squeaks venomously. At the sound an abrupt, inexplicable shock courses through Lucy’s body.

*

Harker, still in the heavy leather armchair, opens his eyes and looks around, drunk with sleep. Only with difficulty can he shake off the oppressive dreams he had during the night. What happened? Where is he? He looks around and recognizes the room, which only now, in the daylight, reveals its shabbiness. The heavy draperies are moth-eaten; there are spider webs in the corners, and dust is everywhere, as if the place has been unoccupied for decades. A ray of light enters through one of the windows, shining directly on Jonathan. Strange, hollow notes of a fiddle can be heard from outside, like someone practicing runs.

Harker yawns. His eye is drawn to his thumb, and he remembers cutting himself. He touches his neck. What is this? A mosquito bite? He gets up and goes over to a mirror on the wall. Hesees two puncture wounds side by side, not large, not conspicuous, but certainly odd. For a moment Harker is taken aback, but then we can see that he rejects the thought that has occurred to him. He inspects his surroundings more thoroughly. He sees that the table has been set, quite obviously for him. It veritably groans with dishes.

Before he sits down to eat, however, Harker takes a closer look around. The main entrance is securely locked, but a door to one side of the dining hall is open. He wonders where his luggage might be; it is missing. The side door takes Jonathan into a strange, gloomy corridor, almost like a dark tunnel. From there a small door opens into a room with a bay window. Ah, there are Harker’s travel bag and the saddlebags, neatly placed on a chair, along with his coat and hat. A bed, a candelabrum, a few pieces of furniture, all in manorial style.

The castle here is so unreal that sometimes I am tempted to believe it is just a figment of my dreams.

The bay window juts out like the prow of a ship, offering a view of a bright day and wooded mountains. Not a house, not a village in sight. A strange, unreal wind seems to blow through the castle, which seems like something in a dream. Harker pokes his head out the window, high above the ground. Far below yawns part of the inner courtyard. Down there in a niche he spies a ragged gypsy boy, practicing his fiddle with utmost concentration. Harker calls to him, but the boy is so engrossed that he does not hear him. An air of mystery surrounds the lad.

Next we see Harker stepping through a door into the courtyard, but now no one is there, although the fiddling can still be heard, clearly and unmistakably.

Harker continues exploring the castle. The gloomy corridor up above extends all around the castle, with other smallish rooms with bay windows opening off it. He comes upon an old kitchen, equipped with a stove but no other appurtenances. All the exits are locked up tight. Before Harker wends his way back to the dining hall, he opens a door into what turns out to be the library.

A strange, gloomy, dusty space with barred windows. Bookshelves up to the ceiling, with thousands of volumes, left unread for decades. In a gallery reached by a short staircase a collection of stuffed birds and other animals. All these rigid objects placed without rhyme or reason. The passage of time has faded the collection to the point that none of the natural colors remain.

Harker returns to the dining hall and sits down calmly to eat. The fact that he cannot get out of the castle seems not to preoccupy him. For now his bodily needs are well met. From outside the fiddling can be heard, disconcertingly hollow.

*

Jonathan is sitting at the window and staring out, deep in reverie. In his hand he holds the medallion with Lucy’s portrait. He pauses and looks at it attentively. Then he extracts a notebook and writing instrument from of his saddlebag, reflects for a bit, and begins to write. His handwriting is fluid but full of character, and we can read along.

Lucy, my dearest, he writes. There is no postal service here through which I might send word to you, so I shall keep a journal, in which I can record all my thoughts and feelings for you at home. So last night, after a toilsome journey, I reached my destination in Transylvania, the castle of Count Dracula.

He breaks off and looks out through the shattered panes of his window. Outside wind tosses the crowns of the large trees. Ravens screech. Jonathan resumes writing: I had oppressive dreams last night and hope that will pass. They have left me feeling torpid, but perhaps that also comes from the insect bites on my neck. Ah, well, I hope to bring my business with the Count to a happy conclusion this evening. The castle here is so unreal that sometimes I am tempted to believe it is just a figment of my dreams.