
Erasing a classic from existence: why most of the original copies of ‘Nosferatu’ were destroyed
Copyright infringement is constantly lurking on the fringes of cinema, with countless battles being fought in and outside of the courtroom to try and determine the originality of any given project. F. W. Murnau’s seminal expressionist masterpiece Nosferatu was quite clearly indebted to Bram Stoker’s Dracula, something the author’s estate simply could not abide.
In his defence, Murnau did change several elements of the story to make the project more localised, with Count Orlok stepping in for Stoker’s titular bloodsucker. The story largely unfolds in the fictional German town of Wisborg after a quick detour to Transylvania, where Gustav von Wangenheim’s Thomas Hutter first encounters the haunting, eerie figure of Max Schreck’s nocturnal antagonist.
Seeing as one of them is the most important piece of vampire literature that’s ever going to be written, and the other became a landmark of cinema that evolved into one of the most influential movies of all time, which then cast a shadow over the next 100 years of big screen horror, it goes without saying that both Dracula and Nosferatu have been able to comfortably exist on their own exalted pedestal for the last century.
However, Stoker’s widow, Florence Balcombe, was of an entirely different mind, taking legal action against Murnau after his film didn’t purchase the rights to the book before deciding to adapt it with a not-so-subtle level of creative and artistic licence applied. She mounted a successful challenge against Nosferatu, which saw production company Prana Film declare bankruptcy immediately after the release of its one and only movie to avoid any charges.
As part of the decision handed down by the judge, all existing copies of Murnau’s classic were ordered to be destroyed. While the German release of the film did acknowledge Dracula as the inspiration, it was too little too late. So began the tracking down and destruction of as many known reels as possible, which came perilously close to robbing the medium of cinema with one of its genuine landmark moments.
Fortunately, several copies had already been shipped overseas in anticipation of Nosferatu‘s international bow, even if it wasn’t screened in the United States until 1929. When it was, the chilling supernatural horror was instantly declared a classic, and cultivating such a stellar reputation ensured that Murnau’s legally questionable undertaking was well on its way to becoming renowned as a true great.
Had the Stoker estate gotten exactly what it wanted and destroyed every single copy of Nosferatu, then there’s a distinct possibility nobody would have known it existed at all. Balcombe may have won the battle, but cinema very nearly lost the war if it were robbed of a movie that holds a very rare place in the annals of history as a game-changer.