Nosferatu and the Road to Demonetization

 

Yesterday I wrote about the Robert Eggers’ film Nosferatu (2024), as well as the previous two versions of that film—Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979), and Nosferatu: A Symphony of Terror (1922). I’ve had Nosferatu on my mind a lot lately, as it was the 1922 film that recently triggered my YouTube channel becoming demonetized. Which is completely ridiculous, as that film is firmly in the public domain.

In fact, every film made from 1929 and before is automatically public domain according to copyright law in the United States. But don’t tell YouTube that; they make their own arbitrary rules on their platform, as evidenced by the latest copyright claim I received on a video on my channel there. It was an episode of my old TV show Chiller Cinema from 2000 that was a vampire-themed episode. That video has been posted on there for years, but just recently received this claim. At the end of that episode, I ran a clip from Nosferatu (1922) that ran about 5 minutes. It was a silent clip, with no music underneath it. I ran it to fill the runtime to 28:30 for broadcast length. It is a clip with no music from a public domain film. No problem… except that a company called Jazzee Blue Records decided to file a claim on my video.

I initially wasn’t too worried about it, as I figured it must have been an automated match. Once I appealed it the company would see that it was a mistake and drop the claim. I’ve had that happen from time to time on public domain movies. So, I appealed it, and Jazzee Blue quickly came back and denied the appeal, insisting they owned this clip. 

This in turn caused YouTube to demonetize my channel for three months. I still wasn’t too worried as YouTube offered the chance for me to appeal their decision in a video appeal. So, I sat down and shot a video a few days later from my home office talking about my videos, public domain films, my shooting process, and why this was a simple mistake. YouTube, in turn, denied my appeal the very next day.

I was shocked. This movie is 102 years old. It is undeniably in the public domain. No one can claim this movie. Yet, that’s exactly what happened, and YouTube was upholding this ridiculous claim. I did a search for Jazzee Blue Records, and the only company I can find under that name is a record label founded by musician Chris Rea. I’ve always been a fan of his music, so if that is the company responsible, that is doubly disappointing. And honestly, if I was using his music, I would totally understand, but this was a silent clip; therefore, there is no basis for this claim.

The funny thing about it is that the Chiller Cinema video in question hadn’t really even had that many views. I wasn’t appealing it because of loss of funds; it was more the principle of the thing. I am a big believer in the public domain and can’t stand to see people get away with abusing it. I posted a video about this situation after the fact to let my YouTube viewers know I’d be changing my approach to what I post over there. In that video I explained a common tactic that shady producers use on YouTube. They’ll often take a public domain film—like The Giant Gila Monster, for instance—and find a clip from it with music that doesn’t have any talking in it. They’ll pull the audio from that clip and publish it on a site like CD Baby, giving it a new title and calling it their own “song.” They’ll then go back to YouTube and file a copyright claim on every video using their new song. It’s a blatant and crass way to steal money from people legally using public domain material.

I’ve honestly given up on YouTube as far as public domain films go. When someone files a copyright claim on a video, YouTube automatically sides with the claimant. They aren’t made to provide proof or documentation that they own said material; YouTube simply takes them at face value. Once an appeal is filed, all the claimant has to do is come back and reconfirm that they own it. Again, no proof necessary, just their word. If the person receiving the strike wants to file a second appeal, they risk getting a channel strike. Three channel strikes and your channel is deleted, thus disincentivizing anyone from pursuing further. It’s just not worth the risk. It’s a broken system and one that YouTube has no interest in fixing. 

Therefore, I’m done posting videos on there with any public domain material. I’ll stick to videos I create myself or quick clips used in reviews of movies, and even then, I’ll probably use more still images to avoid this in the future. I also scrubbed through all of my old videos and removed a good number of them, including all of my Chiller Cinema episodes. I’m able to reapply for monetization in March. We’ll see if they approve me.

In the meantime, I hope Jazzee Blue Records isn’t the same Jazzee Blue that was founded by Chris Rea. Again, I’ve always been a fan of his. If it is the same company, then Chris, I hope you speak to your employees about this. It’s bully tactics and no way to treat fellow producers, and is, in fact, the road to hell.

The Countless Qualities of Nosferatu

I kicked off my 2025 movie-watching season with a trip to the local theater to see director Robert Eggers' remake of the 1922 film, Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. I've liked all of Egger's work to date, especially The Lighthouse, so I was looking forward to his new film, Nosferatu. I enjoyed this one. It’s a bit long, clocking in at 2 hours and 15 minutes, but never seemed to drag. It was a moody, dark, and gory take on the 1922 original that added some new wrinkles and additions, primarily Ellen Hutter’s psychic connection with Count Orlok. It is also dark lighting-wise—while beautifully shot, much of this film takes place in shadows and darkness. This would not be one to see at a drive-in. It needs to be seen on the best screen possible. The look of Count Orlok, played by Bill Skarsgard, seems to be the biggest conversational touchstone for this film. Certainly, it’s a unique take on the creature—but I’m okay with that, as it makes it Egger’s own interpretation. This count is decrepit and disgusting, yet somehow the mustache that is garnering so much controversy makes him more humanistic at the same time. 

 

I followed this up with a rewatch of the 1979 Werner Herzog film Nosferatu the Vampyre. Talk about contrast—watching those two back-to-back is fascinating. Where Egger’s version is shrouded in darkness, much of Herzog’s takes place in bright light. You can see details clearly in most of this film, including the Count himself, played by Klaus Kinski. He skulks around brightly-lit for much of this one. It’s beautifully shot, though, and full of a moody melancholy throughout. The makeup follows the 1922 design fairly faithfully, and Kinski really leans into the rat-like qualities of Count Dracula, as he’s called here. In fact, they use all of the names from Dracula—Harker, Lucy, Mina, Dracula, Renfield, and Van Helsing. The 2024 film, by comparison, sticks with the names from Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror—Hutter, Ellen, Harding, Knock, and Count Orlok. Which really underscores the intertwined nature of the two films. Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror was an unauthorized adaptation of Dracula, made without permission. Separating the two is near impossible; they’re like dark twins, shadow versions of one another, and the remakes further punctuate this. Egger’s Count Orlok is named after the F.W. Murnau character, yet looks-wise, he resembles more closely the character from the Bram Stoker source material. In comparison, Herzog’s Count resembles the character from Nosferatu, yet is named Dracula. 

 

 

Each of these films is excellent, and each has its own merits. If I were to rank them, I’d put them in order of release. The 1922 F.W. Murnau film is, for my money, the greatest vampire film of all-time, and the best silent film I’ve seen. Herzog’s film is a fantastic remake and tacks on an unexpected ending that is magnificent. Egger’s film is excellent in its own right, really painting in shadows to keep the Count cloaked in darkness. All three are worth watching, and I recommend viewing the last two back-to-back—it’s an eye-opening exercise.

1929 enters the Public Domain

As of January 1st, a new batch of films entered the public domain—this time films from 1929. Among the notable films from that year are the Alfred Hitchcock film Blackmail, the first Marx Brothers film, The Cocoanuts, and the number 1 grossing film of that year, The Broadway Melody. Even though there aren’t many films from this year’s offerings that I will screen on my show, it’s still exciting for me as a horror host as it inches us that much closer to the big two becoming public domain. And by those big two, I mean the two films that kicked off a new era of monster movies for Universal Studios and had a huge impact on me as a kid… Dracula and Frankenstein. Due to their 1931 creation, both Dracula and Frankenstein will become public domain in 2027.

That will be a day to celebrate, but it’s absolutely incredible to me to consider where we’d be if it hadn’t been for one particular piece of legislation and one particularly diabolical congressman—Sonny Bono. That’s right, Sonny Bono, of Sonny and Cher fame. Sonny became a congressman in California, and Disney quickly got him in their pocket. He proposed a piece of legislation largely to protect the copyright of Mickey Mouse. It became known as the Copyright Term Extension Act, also known as the Sonny Bono Act. It essentially put a moratorium on films entering the public domain for 20 years. 20 YEARS!

That means that instead of films from 1929 entering the public domain this year, we would have had films from 1949 entering. That blows my mind. The Third Man, Rope, It’s a Wonderful Life, Casablanca, Citizen Kane, Miracle on 34^th Street, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein, House of Dracula, The Wolf Man, The Cat People, The Maltese Falcon, King Kong, and SO MANY others would be public domain now.

Sonny Bono will forever be a villain in my book, right up there with Fredric Wertham (the psychiatrist that attacked and smeared EC comics and their fellow comic book companies in the 1950s). His name should forever go down in infamy.

Sir Cecil Creape honored with historical marker

2024 was a banner year for us here at the Cinetarium. Not only was it the 25^th anniversary of my career as a TV horror movie host (we celebrated with a special 25^th anniversary live cast and crew reunion show), but I was also able to spearhead a project that paid homage to the man that was my direct inspiration for this endeavor—Sir Cecil Creape.

Sir Cecil Creape was Nashville’s horror host of the 1970s and 80s, and was played by Russ McCown, a film editor for WSMV (called WSM-TV at the time). His original show, Creature Feature, was legendary in the Nashville area, and is still fondly remembered to this day. Over the years we’ve done many tributes to Sir Cecil on the show, and I regularly ended the credits with the words, “Dedicated to the memories of Russ McCown and Ken Bramming, horror host legends of Nashville.” (Ken Bramming was Nashville’s first host, Dr. Lucifur, of the 50s and 60s).

In 2023 I contacted the Metro Historical Commission in Nashville and pitched the idea of a historical marker for Russ. I sponsored the marker, and was thrilled when it was approved. 

“Every single time I mention this marker to anyone who grew up
in Nashville their faces light up in a way that never happens
for any other marker.”
Jessica Reeves, Metro Historical Commission.

 

On Saturday, July 13^th Russ McCown, a.k.a. Sir Cecil Creape was honored with a permanent historical marker outside his former home at 3712 Richland Avenue in Nashville, TN. Russ passed away in 1994 and would have been amazed to be honored in such a way. He is, in fact, the very first horror movie host to have a permanent marker erected in his honor.

Below is the induction ceremony from the marker unveiling. Speaking at the ceremony were Jessica Reeves of the Metro Historical Commission, Nashville Mayor Freddie O'Connell, Council Member Brenda Gadd, and Dr. Gangrene. Members of the McCown family were also present for the ceremony. 

 

Watch the dedication ceremony below: 

If you find yourself in Music City stop by and check out the Sir Cecil Creape historical marker - it is located at 3712 Richland Avenue, Nashville, TN 37205. 

The Return of Amicus Studios!

This week some great news was announced - the return of Amicus Studios! 

Independent producer/director Lawrie Brewster officially made this announcement this week. Best of all, it is being done in cooperation with the Milton Subotsky estate. Subotsky was one-half of the legendary Amicus studio, which he formed with his partner Max Rosenberg. They made a number of mostly horror films in the 60s and 70s, specializing in portmanteau (or anthology) films, each usually containing four or five separate stories tied together with a linking storyline running throughout the film. 

I'm a HUGE Amicus fan, so this was music to my ears. In fact, anthology films are my favorite sub-genre, and several of Amicus' films are among my favorite of all-time. Here's some proof, a couple of photos of the posters in my house...

Those are all originals, and just a few of the ones I own. I even have a poster of a Subotsky film made after Amicus disbanded - The Monster Club. This is an extremely difficult poster to find, the only one I was able to locate was a Spanish poster...

So, again, I'm a fan of these films. So I was very excited to hear the good news. Lawrie had teased he wanted to make a studio that channeled Amicus, and that's why I started following him on Twitter originally. The fact they're making it official and resurrecting Amicus officially is even better!

Here's the press release below. Check it out, and give them a follow over on Twitter, and keep an eye out for more official news upcoming!

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Amicus Productions Rises from the Grave

After decades in the shadows, the legendary Amicus Productions is set for a grand revival thanks to the team at Hex Studios. Their upcoming film, 'In the Grip of Terror', seeks to honor the classic studio's legacy while forging a new chapter in British horror.

Drawing inspiration from iconic films like 'Dr. Terror's House of Horrors' (1965), 'Tales from the Crypt' (1972), and 'Asylum' (1972), the new portmanteau feature will spotlight four tales rooted in the works of revered authors such as H.P. Lovecraft, Ambrose Bierce, and E.F Benson. With a central theme of medical macabre, the film promises to be a chilling experience. While the full cast list is under wraps, it will feature UK horror stalwarts like Laurence R. Harvey (Human Centipede II) and emerging stars Megan Tremethick (Ghost Crew) Jonathan Hansler (The Devil's Machine) and Michael Daviot (Revenge of Innsmouth).

Guiding the ambitious resurrection is the new president of Amicus Productions, Lawrie Brewster, known for 'The Unkindness of Ravens' (2016), 'The Devil's Machine' (2019), and 'Ghost Crew' (2022). Alongside him is his business partner, writer/producer Sarah Daly. Their efforts come after extensive dialogues and collaboration with the family of Amicus founder Milton Subotsky, who have wholeheartedly endorsed this venture.

But the aspirations of Brewster and team stretch beyond a single film. They are calling upon classic horror aficionados to be part of this cinematic rebirth. A crowdfunding campaign, set to kick off in mid-September, will facilitate the initial stages of the project, driving set construction, original practical effects creation, and talent acquisition. Fans can get a head start by registering for updates on the Amicus Pre-Launch Campaign Page.

Brewster expressed his enthusiasm, stating, "Our aim is to re-establish Amicus Productions as a beacon of independent British horror. We're concocting a film that captures the essence and panache that rendered the studio iconic. By emphasizing atmospheric storytelling, tangible effects, and a genuine respect for the genre, our vision is to teleport audiences back to British horror's golden epoch. This venture transcends mere studio revival—it's a renaissance of passion, tribute to a rich legacy, and a testament to indie cinema's prowess."

Brewster also delved into the deep-rooted involvement of the Subotsky family in the project. "The title 'In the Grip of Terror' was generously shared with me by Sergei Subotsky, derived from a list of potential titles his late father, Milton Subotsky, had curated decades ago. It feels profoundly fitting that we're expanding upon the imaginative groundwork set by such a visionary. What's even more fascinating is that three of the four stories we're adapting were suggested by Milton's widow and Sergei's mother, Dr. Fiona Subotsky.'"

For continuous updates, follow Hex Studios on @LawrieBrewster on Twitter or at the "British Horror Studio" Facebook Group. Media inquiries can be directed to Lawrie Brewster, lawriebrewster@hexmedia.tv