In 2002 Kino Video released a collection of “German Horror Classics.” This four-DVD set, boxed in a slick black case with Gothic lettering, includes Robert Wiene's Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari (The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, 1920), Paul Wegener's Der Golem und wie er in die Welt kam (The Golem and How He Came Into the World, 1920), Friedrich Murnau's Nosferatu: Eine Symphonie des Grauens (Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, 1922), and Paul Leni's Waxworks (1924). None of these films would have been considered “horror films” at the time of their release; nor, some would argue, should some of them rightly be considered horror films today. Nonetheless, these films are invariably cited as key entries in the horror-film lexicon. From Lotte Eisner's famous identification of German Expressionist cinema's “haunted screen” to contemporary transnational thrillers that export German history as horror film, German identity has consistently been represented through the lens of the Faustian soul, the haunted Teuton, the mad genius. It is therefore not surprising that film scholars typically cite Germany—“the land of dark forests and darker myths”—as the birthplace of horror. Carlos Clarens, in his definitive history of horror and science-fiction films prior to 1967, includes the first three films in his chapter on German film between 1913 and 1932, arguing that the sharp contrasts and dramatic acting of Expressionism offered precisely the right style “to render in black and white the reawakened fantasies of the darkly romantic German soul” (14).