During the 1800s, paroled Brazilian bandit Cobra Verde is sent to West Africa with a few troops to man an old Portuguese fort and to convince the local African ruler to resume the slave trade with Brazil.
In the 1950s, an adolescent Werner Herzog was transfixed by a film performance of the young Klaus Kinski. Years later, they would share an apartment where, in an unabated, forty-eight-hour ... See full summary »
Jonathan Harker is sent away to Count Dracula's castle to sell him a house in Wismar where Jonathan lives. But Count Dracula is a vampire, an undead ghoul living off of men's blood. Inspired by a photograph of Lucy Harker, Jonathan's wife, Dracula moves to Wismar, bringing with him death and plague... An unusually contemplative version of Dracula, in which the vampire bears the curse of not being able to get old and die. Written by
What artistic brilliance upon Werner Herzog's behalf, but Klaus Kiniski and Isabelle Adjani stamp their lasting marks as well. Never have I been so caught up, amazed and blown away from such profound positioning, poetically creative imagery and mesmerizing performances. I found it incredibly hard to take my eyes off the screen, even though the story has been done to death. Each vividly lush and fairy-tale engraved set piece is set-up, and I hungrily waited to analyse and soak-up this magnificent art form of symbolic and superstitious embellishment. Atmospheric, old fashion chills of the subtle, but still blood-curdling kind fill Herzog's stunningly protracted direction. The story is there, but it's the little details that sets this canvas in motion. The gloomy tone of the film is powerfully brooding from the air of growing despair, loneliness to the smothering stench of dark, lingering death. Kiniski sensationally emit's a sullen, heart-felt turn where he's shadowy exterior creeps up upon you and causes goose bumps. His make-up and body movement is simply trance-like, and stares you down. He's a scavenger, which goes after what he wants and not under any sort seductive appeal. A soulful Adjani is awe-inspiring, and gracefully evokes a versatile performance that also demands your attention. A quite dry Bruno Gaz does well, and an unforgettable Roland Topor as Dracula's loyal servant totally cackles like an on edge hyena. Picturesque cinematography with unique camera-shots, and a forlornly dreamy orchestral music score set the tone. I pretty much agree with others when they say it's a hard one to put into clear and concise words. Just see it.
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