First interior shooting of Schreck as the Nosferatu. Made up, he wanders the dining hall set in preparation, and the stonework, windows, and doors come to life. It’s we, ridiculous ghosts, in our modern clothes, who look like intruders. The scene of his dinner with Hutter: the hall through the camera appearing to have gigantic dimensions. In the center a massive Renaissance table. In the distance the huge fireplace. The Nosferatu reading Hutter’s letter of introduction: sharp ratlike teeth over the lower lip. His eyes, over the top margin of the letter, as he hears the clock strike midnight. A snake hypnotizing its victim. Wangenheim smart enough to stop acting as the drama reaches its height, understanding the audience will have already reached the required degree of tension. Afterwards some “executives” from Prana, friends of Grau’s, in for lunch. A strange meal. Schreck, still made up as the Nosferatu, set his teeth on the table like part of the place-setting while he ate his soup.

The pace picks up. It must. One set is struck and another built in its place while Grau and Galeen and I confer with the actors for the day’s next scene. More kidney trouble has thrown us a week behind. Grau called me at the Bühlershöh sanatorium to remind me that shooting had to be finished in four weeks, by 1 November. Some sets I’d asked him to save had been struck, he added, and I had to work more sensibly and avoid unnecessary takes. Film stock already cost thirty marks a meter, and no more would be forthcoming. Even with the help of the big banks, inflation was making it impossible to raise money. Agnuzzo, apparently, was tapped out.

Twelve-hour days. Many of us are fighting sunstroke caused by the arcs. Crew members rub raw grated potato on their faces to combat the burn. The Nosferatu greeting Hutter as it emerges from the darkness of the castle archway. Wagner suggests we use magnesium flares with the arcs to increase the effect of moonlight. Take after take. Schreck sweats and suffers under his makeup, and his forehead looks as if it’s been varnished.

Everyone thinking about future commitments: Granach going back to the stage; Grau soon to begin scouting exteriors for Prana’s next film. Wagner working with Lang. Galeen to direct his own Stadt in Sicht. We’re all progressively losing the sense that we’re held within the same dream—each of us beginning to wake up.

My trouble is naïveté. What I should do is overnumber the shots so the script girl could note increasing numbers accomplished each day, and Grau and Dieckmann would be steadily mollified.