F. W. Murnau had been an actor, an artist, and had an interest in the occult prior to directing Nosferatu, which may have led to his working relationship with producer Albin Grau, who was also keenly interested in the occult. What is of great interest to me is what led these very creative filmmakers to make their film Nosferatu (1922) without seeking a licensing agreement with Mrs Florence Stoker, the rightful heir of the Bram Stoker Estate, the holder of the dramatic and film rights for Dracula, published in 1897.
Adapting unauthorized source material was nothing new for director F. W. Murnau: his earlier horror film, Der Janus-Kopf (The Head of Janus, 1920), was also an unauthorized adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s novel The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It appears that this infringement did not make it to the courts. Although the Nosferatu case was quite possibly the earliest novel-to-film copyright infringement case in history, this was not only new territory for the courts, it certainly was for Florence Stoker.
Having spent the past 12 years on a quest to learn what I can about my great-granduncle Bram Stoker’s life and his research and writing of Dracula, it is only fitting, given the 2022 centenary anniversary of Nosferatu, which was also the 125th anniversary of the publication of Dracula, that a member of the Stoker family has the opportunity to provide Florence Stoker’s perspective.
Today the Nosferatu case is generally studied in law schools, and discussed by legal scholars, to introduce concepts related to legal remedies available for copyright infringement. In this case, after the ruling against them, Prana declared bankruptcy, and since there was no money to pay restitution to Mrs Stoker, the German court ruled to have copies of the film destroyed. Although the court case and its ruling seem to be the focus and garner the most interest, there were other extenuating circumstances regarding Florence’s attempts to protect and capitalize on her late husband’s intellectual property, namely the legal licensing of the stage rights to Dracula in Great Britain and the film rights later in the USA. Bram was no stranger to the law; in 1871, while still at Trinity College, he worked as a clerk in the Petty Sessions legal department of Dublin Castle, and later, in 1877, he was promoted to Inspector of Clerks throughout Ireland. During this time, he compiled a legal manual appropriately named The Duties of Clerks of Petty Sessions (1878), and this manual was in use until the early 1960s. Furthermore, Bram wrote many of his own publishing contracts, and contracts in his position as manager of the Lyceum Theatre. Therefore, legal rights surrounding his novels were something about which Bram was acutely aware. As an aside, in 2013 Ms Margaret Wood of the US Library of Congress discovered that Bram, contrary to popular opinion, had in fact followed the proper procedure for filing the copyright for his US edition of Dracula (1899). Confusion apparently stemming from the fact that Bram was also referred to as Abraham created a filing error, which led to this long-standing misunderstanding.
Florence was widowed in 1912; she was 64 years old when Nosferatu first premiered in Berlin in 1922. Since then, records have been lost, first-hand accounts are difficult to source and verify, and as a result, I have found a lot of hearsay and rumor which has been difficult to separate from fact. I am deeply indebted to Mr Holger Mandel, a German film historian, for his assistance in my research. David J. Skal has provided a lot of important information on the subject in his excellent book Hollywood Gothic, published in 1990. In fact, David devotes three chapters of his book to the complicated issues of the nine-year period involving Florence Stoker and the representatives of the Incorporated Society of Authors, New York and Hollywood stage and film industry. Over this period multiple studios, agents, and apparently even Bela Lugosi got involved in the negotiations of the film rights.
Florence, outgunned in numbers and experience, certainly held up her end with perseverance and resolve to do what was right on behalf of her deceased husband. Her health was waning but luckily her son Noel, a chartered accountant, was able to assist his mother during this difficult time. What is unsettling to me is how many articles I have read that make broad-based assumptions and provide misinformation on the subject. One issue that needs clearing up from the start is one of the most frequently repeated claims that the Stoker Estate would not grant the rights to Prana to make a film adaptation of Dracula. My sources within the Stoker family are Florence’s great grandsons, who were raised by Bram and Florence’s son Noel. There are in possession of various Stoker family papers, and they are well aware of any other papers that have been donated or sold to various archives over the years. With their assistance, I have been unable to find any records that Florence was ever approached to sell the film rights to Prana.
Bram died April 20, 1912 at his home on St Georges Square in the Pimlico district of London. His health had been in decline over the past two years, having suffered two strokes. This caused him to lose his eyesight. In addition, he suffered from Bright’s disease, a severe condition of the kidneys. He had been employed by Sir Henry Irving for 27 years, ending with Irving’s death in 1905. Bram struggled financially for the last seven years of his life. Royalties from Dracula and his other novels barely made ends meet, and Irving did not make any arrangement for a pension for his loyal Lyceum Theater Manager for his 27 years of unwavering and dedicated employment. Nor did Bram receive any form of inheritance from Henry Irving. Florence’s son Noel was working as a chartered accountant and did provide support for his mother. Bram’s brother Thornley, who died only 4 months after Bram, did leave Florence £2,000 in his will. Bram did have the foresight to protect the dramatic rights to Dracula, by conducting a staged reading on May 18 1897 per the established laws of the day. It would be a while before these rights were exercised, but when they were, they provided Bram’s widow Florence the financial security she needed. The film rights were closely related to the dramatic rights but they were not the same. Since Bram’s death in 1912 his novel Dracula, assisted in 1924 by publicity from stage adaptations, generated a lot of publishing success around the world, before it went into public domain in 1962.
In early 1922, to monetize what Bram left her, Florence was in the process of pursuing a stage adaptation of Dracula with Hamilton Deane when she first become aware of the release of the film Nosferatu by Prana Films. It is not clear how she found this out, but more than a few sources have stated that she received an anonymous note telling of the World Premier on March 4 1922 at Der Marmorsaal (Marble Hall) in the Berlin Zoo. At that point the film had already been screened in Holland as well as in various other countries in Europe.
Florence approached the Incorporated Society of Authors to support her efforts to protect the integrity of Bram’s novel. Although Bram had been a member, it was pointed out that Florence was not a member of the society and that she was obviously joining because she needed their financial assistance. Florence wrote numerous convincing letters to Mr Thring, the Secretary of the Society who in May of 1922 was finally given permission by the committee to inform Florence that they would take up her cause.
Letters in the British Museum Library indicate the correspondence between Florence, the Incorporated Society of Authors, and their German lawyer, but unfortunately no records or correspondence have been discovered which reveal Prana’s position in the matter. These letters show that in 1924 the German court ruled in favor of the Incorporated Society of Authors on behalf of Mrs Stoker and again in 1925 after an unsuccessful appeal. However, additional correspondence indicates that in 1931, well after the initial court case had ruled in their favor, their German lawyer pointed out that the film Nosferatu had resurfaced and had been shown in Berlin. It was obvious that not all copies of the film were destroyed, per the court order. What a disappointment to Florence and the Incorporated Society of Authors this must have been.
This would have been most troubling to Florence as she was in the process of working with Hamilton Dean and John Balderston on the stage adaptation of Dracula in both London and New York. Within a few years Universal Studios had shown interest in purchasing the screen rights of the stage version. Finally, a legitimate path forward to turn Bram’s Dracula novel into a film, and a substantial payout for Florence. However, with the resurgence of Nosferatu, correspondence indicated that Florence was very concerned that even though her efforts, and those of the Incorporated Society of Authors, had prevailed in the German courts, this pirated version floating around might scare off any legitimate studio from a proper and legal licensing agreement for the film rights.
Later in 1931 Florence was in contact with studio executives, agents and intermediaries; they all gave advice and sent offers back and forth, indicating that they were close to a deal. It turns out that for some reason, possibly practical, or it might have been a legal one, Universal ended up buying the rights to the stage play Dracula which was owned by F. Stoker, H. Deane and J. Balderston, and not the film’s rights-to-novel itself.
Not lost on today’s fans, Nosferatu has become a sort of cult classic. It certainly was an example of German expressionism and advanced filmmaking, although probably not something appreciated by my great grandaunt. It was also a horrifically good movie retelling of Bram’s story in a manner very close to the original book, something audiences are still demanding today. Notwithstanding that it was an unauthorized film adaptation, legal scholars argue that Nosferatu has significant, independent artistic merit as one of the great, early horror films, and that the court erred in permitting Mrs. Stoker the right to have copies of the film destroyed. Such scholars point out that but for the fact that Mrs. Stoker was unsuccessful in having all copies destroyed, the world would have lost the film because of the remedy determination by a judge (implying that judges are not in the best position to make determination that affect artistic expressions). I am sure there are many horror fans who would agree.