This not-exactly-a-sequel to Herzog's remake, though with Kinski in the same role (albeit without the distinctive makeup-he apparently just refused to wear it again) is much better produced than the vast majority of 1980s Italian horror movies. The locations, costuming and photography are well above average, making the whole enterprise seem at least halfway to being a truly a quality effort. But despite that, and the fairly prestigious cast, the script runs a narrow gamut between the pedestrian and the messy, with some story continuity so weak you have to wonder if major scenes were left unfilmed, and the whole had to be patched together as well as possible in the editing room. (That wouldn't be surprising, as the producer went through several directors before deciding to take the job himself. Given the resulting production delays, his directorial inexperience, and the inevitable Kinski behavior problems, it seems likely the shoot was heavily compromised.)
Anyway, this movie is a bit of an attractive mess, jumbling together flashbacks, flamenco interludes, sexploitation, several deaths by fang, several others by fence-spike, a brief incongruous "Superman"-esque flying scene, and no coherent fix on the vampire's powers at all. (He seems to command wind, while having no particular problem with crosses or daylight.) Kinski walks though the movie looking aged-rockstar-cool (save when his fangs make him a little too Bugs Bunny-ish), Christopher Plummer (as a Van Helsing type) looks like he can't wait to fire the agent who got him here, but still feels professionally obligated to pretend to take his part seriously. Donald Pleasance simply seems superfluous; even when whipped into a ranting frenzy, he doesn't quite seem germane to the plot, such as it is.. Yorgo Voyagis, who may have been great in Greek cinema for all I know, is wooden once again in an international production. Barbara De Rossi looks very beautiful, which is all her part requires. (Well, that and a whole lot of nudity.)
Sometimes "Nosferatu in Venice" seems like it's aiming for some kind of melancholy pathos, sometimes just for rote thrills and kills (none very effectively done). Throughout the visual presentation has a certain poetical sumptuousness. (Kudos to the location scout-you can tell the film's largely 18th-century interiors are real places, not studio sets.) It doesn't make the leap to actual poetry, though, because the script is such a patch job. It's hard to tell just what the writer-director originally had in mind, because the film definitely has elements of an ambitious vision, but also major signs of having only realized that vision in part. So, not a good movie-but an interesting and watchable failure.
Anyway, this movie is a bit of an attractive mess, jumbling together flashbacks, flamenco interludes, sexploitation, several deaths by fang, several others by fence-spike, a brief incongruous "Superman"-esque flying scene, and no coherent fix on the vampire's powers at all. (He seems to command wind, while having no particular problem with crosses or daylight.) Kinski walks though the movie looking aged-rockstar-cool (save when his fangs make him a little too Bugs Bunny-ish), Christopher Plummer (as a Van Helsing type) looks like he can't wait to fire the agent who got him here, but still feels professionally obligated to pretend to take his part seriously. Donald Pleasance simply seems superfluous; even when whipped into a ranting frenzy, he doesn't quite seem germane to the plot, such as it is.. Yorgo Voyagis, who may have been great in Greek cinema for all I know, is wooden once again in an international production. Barbara De Rossi looks very beautiful, which is all her part requires. (Well, that and a whole lot of nudity.)
Sometimes "Nosferatu in Venice" seems like it's aiming for some kind of melancholy pathos, sometimes just for rote thrills and kills (none very effectively done). Throughout the visual presentation has a certain poetical sumptuousness. (Kudos to the location scout-you can tell the film's largely 18th-century interiors are real places, not studio sets.) It doesn't make the leap to actual poetry, though, because the script is such a patch job. It's hard to tell just what the writer-director originally had in mind, because the film definitely has elements of an ambitious vision, but also major signs of having only realized that vision in part. So, not a good movie-but an interesting and watchable failure.