Alfred Kubin (1877â1959), âSchreckâ (Terror)
pen, ink, and watercolour on cadastral paper, c. 1920
source

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Alfred Kubin (1877â1959), âSchreckâ (Terror)
pen, ink, and watercolour on cadastral paper, c. 1920
source

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Mood burro:
Necesito que me apapachen.
Count-Down: Number 11
Welcome to Count-Down! All throughout the month of October, Iâm counting down my Top 31 favorite portrayals and reimaginings of the King of the Vampires, Count Dracula! Iâm surprised todayâs version never got the chance to cry out, âWEâLL MEET AGAIN, SPIDER-MAN!â Number 11 isâŚWillem Dafoe.
From one Nosferatu reinvention into another! First of all, I promise NOT to fill this description up with Spider-Man jokes. Difficult as it will be, I will resist. XD Having said that, I should immediately state that I debated for a while whether or not I should include Willem Dafoeâs performance from the film âShadow of the Vampireâ on the Top 31 or not. This is because he doesnât TECHNICALLY play Dracula in this movie. âShadow of the Vampireâ â produced by Nicolas Cage and directed by Marilyn Manson alumni E. Elias Merhige (dear God, the weirdness factors are going through the roof with this movie already) â is a film inspired by what at first seems like a humorous idea. Back when the classic silent feature âNosferatuâ came out, rumors and urban legends began to abound that actor Max Schreck, who played the Dracula character in the film, was actually a real vampire. This, of course, was not at all true: Max Schreck was actually a performer with a long career in movies, stretching all the way into the mid-1930s, and had a fine time onstage. Still, years later, learning of these rumors, some enterprising screenwriter came up with the idea ofâŚwhat if the rumors HAD been true? What if the âactorâ was, indeed, a real undead monster? While the premise of this movie at first sounds somewhat funny, and clearly quite bizarre, itâs actually relatively serious and dramatic in its execution. Dafoe plays Schreck, a vampire chosen by director F.W. Murnau to tackle the role of Count Orlok to bring some authenticity to the part. Naturally, as the movie goes on, Murnau finds it harder and harder to control Schreck and hide his true being from the rest of the cast and crew. He has to find a way to not only complete his picture, but escape from doing so alive. As a result, while there is definitely humor sprinkled throughout the movie, it mostly feels like a legitimate thriller and horror picture, and â much like Nosferatu â achieves being such in a subtle sort of way, being haunting and looming, rising in intensity then shifting into sudden violent moments that show the threat involved. Much like with âDracula: Pages From a Virginâs Diaryâ (ugh, that title will never NOT sound dumb, I swear), thereâs a lot of ambiguity (to put it mildly) in terms of the morality in this story: on the one hand, Schreck is, by his own admission, a monsterâŚbut, in a more metaphorical way, so is the director, F.W. Murnau. Murnau is an artisteâs nightmare; he will sacrifice almost everyone and everything to save both himself and his art, and cares about almost nothing but the building of his own legacy. Heâs the mad director to end all mad directors. As a result, while Schreck does terrible things, itâs hard to say heâs truly the villainâŚbut you also canât say heâs the hero. Neither of them are good: much like Dracula and Van Helsing in the aforementioned feature (which only came out two years after this movie, I should add), both Schreck and Murnau are two sides of the same scarred coin. Dafoeâs performance as Schreck earned him an Academy Award nomination, making him the single most academy-acclaimed vampire in cinematic history: other vampire movies (and Dracula-related movies, for that matter) have received nominations or even won awards, but itâs never actually been for the actor playing the main vampiric role. Itâs hard to say he didnât deserve it: I would argue this is Dafoeâs finest screen performance. Much like Klaus Kinski, the makeup/costume design and his overall performance do a brilliant job capturing the plague-rat-esque wickedness of the original 1922 demon, but the writing and direction also lends other layers, with each actor bringing something unique to the part. Dafoe, in my opinion, actually at times looks so close to identical with the real Max Schreck and his character from Nosferatu that itâs kind of disturbing. While he gets the mannerisms down, however, Dafoe really does make the role all his own. His Dracula â and I do consider him Dracula, for all intents and purposes, hence why I decided to include him here â has the same sympathetic qualities Kinski brought to the part back in 1979, focusing not on the vampire as a dark lover, but more on his isolation, loneliness, and ageless torment. He is a monster not by choice but by design, and this is a curse he must always live with. Dafoe, ironically, feels slightly more human than Kinskiâs Dracula, while still managing to be INCREDIBLY unnerving and menacing in places where it is needed. Kinskiâs Dracula feels like a tragic phantom; Dafoeâs Schreck is more bitter and depraved, almost like a vampire war veteran. On top of that, as you might expect withâŚEVERYTHING involved here, he can be legitimately funny, with many a snicker-worthy moment to his credit. At times itâs hard to tell whether the humor is intentional or not, but in this filmâs case, I donât think thatâs necessarily a bad thing. The result is arguably the single most human âDraculaâ weâve ever gotten, and how bizarre is that with the way this character looks, as well as the way this story is set up? Bottom line: yeah, I know heâs not REALLY Dracula, in the truest sense of the definitionâŚbut this is just far too fascinating a depiction to leave off my list. Tomorrow, the countdown moves into the Top 10! Hint: He probably likes his victims shaken, not stirred.
Schrecksee, Germany
Scenery is stunning. I think we found heaven. Hike is difficult but possible. From the public parking at Hindestein it took us 4 hours and a half to go up, and 2 hours 30 to go down. 8h total since we spent an hour at the lake. We hike only a few times a year so we are not in the best shape.

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Irgendwann lassen dich alle in den schrecklichsten Situation alleine und dann musst du es eben alleine Ăźberstehen, denn alle Menschen die du so sehr liebst, sei es deine Familie, deine Beste Freundinnen, der beste Freund oder deine Liebe. Irgendwann stehst du sowieso alleine da.
Max Schreck dans "Nosferatu le Vampire" de Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau (1922), d'après l'Ĺuvre de Bram Stoker (1897), dans âBiTS - Vampiresâ documentaire de Joseph Vasconi (2017), octobre 2018.
Ich sterbe
Wirklich!
Vor Schreck. Angst. Und sonstwas. Und Wut. Heute hätte ich das erste Mal in meinem Leben um ein Haar jemanden verprßgelt vor lauter Zorn.
Die Woche war bisher echt eher eine der bescheidenen Sorte. Die Patienten sind nach wie vor alle dement oder wahnsinnig oder beides und machen sogar mich Frohnatur so langsam mĂźrbe. Da wartet dann heute auch noch ein Spätdienst auf mich. Spätdienste sind so eine Sache. Sie sind mittelmäĂig bezahlt und ätzend, weil man seine Station am frĂźhen Nachmittag halb fertig liegen lässt, um vier Stunden lang die Notaufnahme zu bedienen und dabei hoffentlich niemanden umzubringen. MittelmäĂig begeistert war ich auch, als ich den nicht enden wollenden Hauptkorridor des Klinikums Meckerstadt durchquerte, um mich mit etwas Verspätung in Richtung Notaufnahme zu begeben.
Dabei gehe ich meine Liste nochmal durch und Ăźberlege, ob ich irgendetwas unterschlagen habe, was wirklich wichtig war und nicht bis morgen frĂźh warten kann. Nix gefunden. Ich schaue also wieder geradeaus und
TRĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂT Das wars. Die Welt geht unter. Das war das Donnern der Hyperraumaggregate eines SternenzerstĂśrers, der in den nächsten fĂźnf Sekunden Meckerstadt und Mäh-auf-der-Mecker dem Erdboden gleich machen wird. Ich mache einen Satz, werfe Klemmbrett, Kaffeebecher und Wasserflasche von mir schreie vor lauter Schreck.
<schrecksekundehiereinfĂźgen>
Es fiept in meinen Ohren und ich Üffne wieder die Augen. Kein zweites DrÜhnen kommt hinterher, es ist also offensichtlich nicht der Feueralarm. Und zum Glßck auch kein SternenzerstÜrer. Ich atme auf und schaue mich um, wo dieses Geräusch herkam und
TRĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂTTĂĂĂĂĂTTĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂĂT
Ich mache wieder einen Satz und habe genug Orientierung, um die Quelle zu orten. Es ist eine groĂe, rote TrĂśte. Sie wird von einer Hand um die Ecke der nächsten Korridorbiegung gehalten. Aus dieser Richtung hĂśre ich, kaum dass das Scheppern in meinen Ohren aufgehĂśrt hat, hysterisches Gelächter. Ich bleibe stehen und beobachte das Geschehen. Da schieben sich drei Gesichter Ăźbereinander um die Ecke und schauen nach mir. Wie die Daltons kauern dort drei Halbstarke, einer von ihnen eine DrucklufttrĂśte in der Hand.
Erwischt fĂźhlen sich die drei Teenager und rennen lachend los. Ich kenne mich aber im Krankenhaus besser aus (ich wohne ja quasi hier), nehme eine AbkĂźrzung und fange sie vor dem Ausgang hinter einer Ecke ab. Sie rennen ineinander und stolpern alle drei auf den Boden. Irgendwie witzig.
Vor versammelter Runde der im Foyer des Krankenhauses chillenden AngehĂśrigen und Patienten greife ich mir die DrucklufttrĂśte und scheppere den drei Idioten eine gehĂśrige Ladung krach entgegen. Sie halten sich die Ohren zu und stellen fest, dass so ein Ding doch ziemlich laut ist. So richtig cool fĂźhlen sie sich nicht mehr, wie ich ihnen vor diesem Publikum die Leviten lese und ihnen sage, dass das echt eine miese Idee ist, sich ins Krankenhaus zu schleichen und dort Leute zu erschrecken!
Ich spreche ein Hausverbot aus und drohe mit der Polizei, wenn sie nicht in zehn Sekunden drauĂen sind. Voller Genugtuung trĂśte ich ihnen noch einmal hinterher und knalle dann dem Portier die DrucklufttrĂśte auf den Tisch.
Mit wehendem Kittel schaffe ich es gerade rechtzeitig zur Ăbergabe in die Notaufnahme und darf anschlieĂend nochmal ins Haus, weil ja mein kaffeegetränkter To-Do-Zettel noch auf dem Gang liegt.
Immerhin war der Dienst dann, nachdem er angefangen hatte, ruhig. Aber klingeln tut es in meinen Ohren immernoch. Was fĂźr kleine Spastis.