Nosferatu’s Arrival Scene (1:05:28-1:09:00), “Nosferatu”, dir. F.W. Murnau, 1922
 

The scene of Nosferatu’s arrival in Wisborg presents a complete separation from how the Count is presented in the rest of the film, in that it exemplifies the sole instance of humanization of Nosferatu. His arrival coincides with Thomas Hutter’s return home from his treacherous journey to the Count’s castle, thus the score for this sequence is joyous and triumphant. Until this point in the film, the audience has seen surprisingly little movement and emotion from Nosferatu; many shots of Nosferatu frame him as menacing in order to establish his character. That changes in this segment of the film, where the shots begin to show only fragments of Nosferatu’s body, rendering him seem less imposing than a long shot would, or show him in an extreme long shot, making him appear small. This challenges the audience’s view of the Count as solely a stoic, undead figure by fragmenting the monolithic power he holds by virtue of these long and extreme long shots. 

As Nosferatu exits the depths of the “death ship” on which he sailed to back Wisborg (killing all of the sailors aboard along the journey), he exhibits a curious, childlike expression, bordering on mischievousness. This excitement is likely due to the large population of potential victims now available throughout the town. Despite his sinister motive, seeing Nosferatu’s expression deviate from the imposing, shadowy persona seen up until this point is still surprising. It is the first time we see a look on Nosferatu’s face that is meant to do anything but terrify. 

The swelling, joyful music presumably meant to underscore Hutter and Ellen’s reunion also adds the same feeling of elation to Nosferatu’s exploration of his new town. Walking clumsily about Wisborg with his coffin in hand, Nosferatu appears as a strange, gangly neighbor moving into his new home. Though we know his coffin of “cursed earth” is something he uses to draw his evil power from, it also functions in this scene as Nosferatu’s version of luggage, which is perfectly appropriate when considering that he has just moved to a new place. This is also the part of the film where Nosferatu is at his most mobile, and in fact one of the only moments where he moves around like a person as opposed to a puppet. As a vampire, Nosferatu is a symbol of contagion with the potential to infect anyone who has the misfortune to encounter him closely. This increased mobility presents a growing threat for infection, though Nosferatu’s awkward physicality does a lot to disarm this fear factor. 

Humanizing him further, this is a rare scene in which Nosferatu expresses a positive emotion, showing elation when outside of Ellen and Hutter’s house in the moment of their reunion kiss, likely sensing his prey nearby. Though it is ironic that his joy is elicited by the thought of draining the life from his prey, this is still a humanizing moment for Nosferatu because it represents a hunger and drive that many people can understand. Regardless of his clearly diabolical motives (which are in no way hidden throughout the film), the emotions elicited by this move— to a town full of new blood— represent an excitement that remains relatable, even though Nosferatu is an inhuman, villainized beast in this story. Though this line is caked in dramatic irony, when the intertitle of Ellen’s dialogue says “Thank God… you are safe… Everything will be fine now,” the positivity of Nosferatu’s expression and swelling of the music almost elicit us to believe it (1:09:03). 

All of this positivity, however, harshly juxtaposes the symbolism of the “death ship” which Nosferatu has just ridden in on. Nosferatu’s takeover of the ship, the rats he brings with him, and the “cursed earth” he needs to survive all foreshadow the takeover of disease that follows Nosferatu’s arrival in Wisborg. As a symbol of infection moving into the city during a time full of fear about the Plague, Nosferatu’s character equates vampirism with the Black Death itself. This makes Nosferatu a derogatory representation of the minority groups scapegoated for that epidemic, namely the Jewish population. This is also a clear explanation for Nosferatu’s goblin-like features and his inexplicable wealth, which are common anti-semitic stereotypes in this epoque. For this reason, the humanization of Nosferatu actually makes the anti-semitic representation he provides even more harmful. Having Nosferatu seem or act more human increases the likelihood of viewers associating him with actual Jewish people, reinforcing the stereotypes of Jews as dangerous monsters that are set up when Nosferatu is presented as more menacing in earlier parts of the film.