******103-YEAR OLD BLOODSUCKING SPOILERS!******

I’m hoping readers aren’t too tired of my Halloween content (my favorite holiday), because this one should be the last one for this season…I think (?). This past weekend, I went to see my first-ever public screening of a silent movie with a live organist supplying the soundtrack! I own a few silent titles in my mountainous DVD/Blu-Ray collection (“Metropolis,” “Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” etc), but this promised to be special; a perfectly seasonal screening of F.W. Murnau’s “Nosferatu” (1922), with an organ soloist supplying the music! Earlier this year, I did a deep-dive retrospective of all three live-action versions of “Nosferatu,” so I won’t rehash the nuts and bolts of the movie too deeply for this column. This will be more about the experience of seeing a 103-year old silent film with an audience.

The Mission Inn hotel in Riverside, California is a historical site. It’s where ex/late-president Richard Nixon famously honeymooned, and has welcomed other presidents, including John F. Kennedy, Ronald Reagan, Jimmy Carter and George W. Bush since its rebranding in 1902 as the Mission Inn (formerly the Mission Inn hotel, opened in 1876). The historic hotel’s Spanish Baroque architecture is breathtaking, particularly after its seven-year renovation and reopening in 1992. The restoration was costly, but the Mission Inn is arguably the tourist attraction of downtown Riverside, with lots of shops, a spa, and some terrific restaurants, too. Not to mention the overwhelming historical vibe of the place.

The Inn also hosts a world-class Festival of Lights Christmas lights display, which attracts tourists from all over the world. For me, it’s a nice reminder of when I used to live in the city, back when I was courting my wife. In fact, we were married in 1999 about a block away from the Inn, at the Riverside Art Museum. So, for me, the Mission Inn is a heady mix of California history and personal history. We go there as often as we can now (even stayed there a few times, in fact), and it always gives me a rush of history and antiquity. While famous for their Yuletide spectacle (which runs from late November through early January), the Mission Inn also offers a more subtle nod to Halloween; lining its entranceway with pumpkins, and placing a few strategic harvest scarecrows here and there, as well…

For this Halloween season, the nonprofit Friends of the Mission Inn (a group dedicated to preserving the Inn and its history) used the hotel’s Grand Parisian Ball Room for a special screening of the silent classic “Nosferatu.” Fittingly, the occasion also commemorated the recent restoration of the Inn’s Kimball Pipe Organ, which was installed at the hotel back in 1910, and was restored in the early 2000s. However, three years ago, the two-story high organ fell into disrepair, needing a new motor as well as cleaning of its 2,500 separate pipes (!). Through the nonprofit, enough funds were raised to buy a new motor and clean its pipes. In addition to a program for the movie, attendees were also given a booklet detailing the history and restoration of the Kimball organ, as well.

Arriving at the Inn around 11 am or so, I was waaaay too early for the 1 pm performance (that San Diego Comic Con training), but I was determined to get a good seat for the event, since seating was not preassigned (as is custom for most multiplexes these days). In the lobby outside the Grand Parisian Ball Room, I took a bag of complementary popcorn, and entered. This was my first time in the hotel’s Grand Parisian Ball Room, and it was stunning. Furnished in the same Spanish stylings as the rest of the Inn, there were added tables in back with gift baskets for a raffle after the movie. I didn’t buy tickets for the raffle, since the items being raffled were mainly food and wines my wife and I don’t really need/eat or drink.

Having made my way to the front, I was seated well before the 230 or so attendees began to file in. Many of the attendees were in Halloween cosplay, as were the Friends of the Mission Inn volunteers, except for emcee Chris, who even half-jokingly apologized for his lack of themed attire. The seats weren’t exactly motorized recliners, of course, but this was an improvised screening, and they used what they had on hand. I could easily put up with slightly uncomfortable chairs for a chance to see a genuine silent movie with a live organist. This was special, and given the historic significance of the site in which it was taking place, the event definitely had a certain vibe of time travel to it.

A nice-sized movie screen was set up on the stage of this improvised movie theater, to the left of the Kimball Pipe Organ. The organist’s chair was set up with a small screen mirroring the movie, so the organist could keep track of the action and play accordingly (like a sideways orchestra pit, with the conductor facing the action). I was as eager to hear the sound of this refurbished musical monstrosity as I was to see a silent movie with an audience. It was like going back in time to the days when a live pianist would be hired to play at a movie theater during the height of the silent era.

Organ music has a long history in horror and sci-fi movies, even in my own childhood. I remember seeing “Beneath the Planet of the Apes” (1970) at a very young age and being a bit spooked by the skinless humanoid mutants living underground, as they worshipped a doomsday “Omega” bomb–singing their praises to the weapon, accompanied by a massive church organ deep in the ruins of what had been Grand Central Station. Organ music played a significant role in the Vincent Price black comedies “The Abominable Dr. Phibes” (1971) and “Dr. Phibes Rises Again” (1972); both of which I distinctly remember watching on late-night TV well past what should’ve been my bedtime. I also remember the haunting sound of Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue” playing as the main title theme for the Amicus horror anthology film “Tales from the Crypt” (1972) and incongruously used as the main title for the futuristic sports dystopia “Rollerball” (1975). In fact, I use that same theme myself; playing it on an unseen speaker for my front yard display on Halloween night.

Soon, the spotlight came onto the stage area, as Friends of the Mission Inn representatives Homa Aimen and Susan Wasserman made introductions for the live organist; the talented William Zeitler, who wore a Dracula-esque cape and took to the mic to discuss the history of F. W. Murnau’s “Nosferatu” before taking his seat at the organ bench. As the ballroom lights dimmed, Zeitler broke in the restored organ’s pipes with a rousing rendition of–you guessed it—Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue”; only my favorite piece ever written for the organ. In that moment, I experienced a powerful feeling of being exactly where I needed to be. After a brief timing snafu with the movie, “Nosferatu” restarted a few seconds later with Zeitler’s music accompanying it in lockstep…

“Nosferatu” (1922)

The following story synopsis is quoted from my earlier “Nosferatu” retrospective. The copy screened at the Mission Inn featured title cards referring to the characters by their original unauthorized “Dracula” names; though with slightly differing spellings in some cases (‘Dracula,’ ‘Jonathon/Jonathan,’ ‘Nina/Mina,’ etc). Since this admittedly plagiarized classic movie was ordered destroyed by German courts in the 1920s, its possible some surviving international prints used the original Dracula names to avoid audience confusion, since the movie is a fairly faithful adaptation of Bram Stoker’s “Dracula.”

The story is a one-for-one retelling of “Dracula,” as a young, ambitious realtor named Hutter (née: Harker) must leave his newlywed bride Ellen (née: Mina) for Transylvania, where he must present a deed to be signed by the mysterious and wealthy recluse, Count Orlok (née: Count Dracula), who seeks to purchase a lucrative property in Germany (née: England), not far from Hutter’s own home.

After becoming infatuated with Harker’s bride, the vampire Orlok keeps Hutter prisoner in his castle as he sets off in a protective coffin filled with his native soil for an ocean voyage to Germany (despite the fact there’s no ocean between the two countries). The evil Orlok arrives in Germany, after draining/killing the entire crew of the Empusa (née: Demeter).

Hutter manages to escape from Count Orlok’s castle, and he races home to find the Count has carried his epidemic of mysterious blood-draining death to Hutter’s village, which is mistaken by the locals as a natural plague. Meanwhile, a tormented Ellen is under the vampire’s psychic influence, as Hutter and an eccentric older doctor practiced in the occult team up to confront the bloodsucking monster that is literally draining the life from their village.

Eventually, the nocturnal Count is destroyed when he absently feasts upon his long-desired Ellen’s blood, as the sun rises brightly from a nearby window.

Note: The print used for this screening of “Nosferatu” wasn’t the tinted 4K restoration used for the recent Kino-Lorber Blu-Ray; it was a simple, monochromatic public domain American print with the aforementioned original English names of the characters in its title cards (used for dialogue). While the copy played for this screening wasn’t nearly as good as the new Blu-Ray, I didn’t care. In fact, watching a lower-quality print only added to the historical feel of the screening, as this was how most audiences would’ve likely seen the film. Hand-tinted copies of silent movies (which featured night scenes tinted in blue, daytime scenes tinted in gold, etc) were the ‘3D’ gimmick of their time–a luxury used mainly for high-end screenings in grand movie palaces. The average moviegoer in the 1920s would most likely see this film in a grainy, monochrome print, if at all, given that most prints of “Nosferatu” were destroyed after director Murnau lost his copyright case against the Bram Stoker estate. The movie was reconstructed in 1960, and later refined for subsequent home video releases, using prints found in the collection of foreign collectors.

The End.

After the screening, the lights came up full, and Friends of the Mission Inn volunteer Susan Wasserman brought organist Zeitler back onstage for a curtain call which turned into a much-deserved standing ovation. Zeitler’s music was a medley of appropriately period-sounding new cues as well as a few borrowed bit of music, elegantly woven in as well. During scenes between Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward, there were phrases pulled from Edward Elgar’s “Pomp and Circumstance,” the almost-universal graduation ceremony anthem used here to subtly accent science and academia. On a side note, the restored, 115-year old Kimball Organ did not disappoint.

The significance of seeing the 103-year old “Nosferatu” in the city of Riverside was not lost on me. There is a deep connection to old movies and entertainment in Riverside, as an audience preview (not premiere) of “Gone with the Wind” took place in 1939 a few blocks away at the equally historic Fox Theatre, which was also restored in the 2000s. The Fox has hosted many big events since its reopening, including live concerts, plays, ballets, and standup comedians. My wife and I saw Eddie Izzard and Lewis Black at the Fox. We’ve also seen Neil deGrasse Tyson and The Mythbusters Tour there, as well. In fact, my wife and I plan on attending our second performance of “The Nutcracker” at the Fox this December.

Between the classic silent film, the powerful organ score, the cosplayers, and the historic venue, the Friends of the Mission Inn screening of “Nosferatu” was a genuine Halloween treat!

If anyone’s interested, all 30 of my Mission Inn pics can be seen here in this link to my Flickr album.

Where to Watch

Kino Lorber Home Video released a new, largely complete Blu-Ray of 1922’s “Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror” (1922), which runs around 94 minutes and even restores the color-tinting of the original theatrical presentations (it can be ordered via Amazon, or Kino Lorber’s website). The movie is also available to stream via Tubi, Pluto, Amazon Prime and other platforms (in prints of varying quality and runtimes).