We’ve seen “Nosferatu” before.
The iconic vampire story first came to screen in 1922′s “Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror” written by Henrik Galeen and directed by F. W. Murnau. The silent film, a classic of horror and German expressionist cinema, unofficially adapted the iconic novel “Dracula,” changing proper nouns in an attempt to evade copyright infringement. Max Schreck’s Count Orlok — a stand-in for Count Dracula — remains to this day one of the most viscerally terrifying villains in cinematic horror.
Since then, the vampiric legend has greeted audiences on the big screen time and time again. 1931 saw a proper adaptation of “Dracula” for Universal’s catalog of monster movies, with Bela Lugosi starring in a equally iconic take on the character — this time with a voice. Acclaimed filmmaker Werner Herzog took a stab at “Nosferatu the Vampyre” in 1979, a further blending of the “Dracula” novel and “Nosferatu’s” own imagery. Francis Ford Coppola notably returned to horror with “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” in 1992, this time placing Gary Oldman in the role of the undead Count.
By now, audiences are familiar with the story, at least in its broad strokes. In this version, a real estate lawyer, Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult), leaves his recently betrothed Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp) behind against her wishes as he travels to close a deal with the secluded Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård). As Thomas soon discovers, Ellen and Orlok have a history, their lives entangled. Thomas, Ellen and their town quickly find themselves at the mercy of Orlok’s vampiric curse — a curse he vows to lift only if Ellen agrees to become his bride.
All of these films — far from the only adaptations of the novel — are highly successful in their own right, each portraying the story with their own perspective. With a number of other cinematic, staged, literary and televised adaptations of the gothic legend, one could argue that it’s time to finally put a stake in the story for good. Do audiences really need to see Nosferatu again?
Yes.
2024′s “Nosferatu” marks the fourth film from writer/director Robert Eggers. Eggers made a name for himself in 2015 with his debut feature, the puritan horror “The Witch.”. From there, Eggers wrote and directed “The Lighthouse” — a dark comedy of isolation — and “The Northman” — a historical epic led by Alexander Skarsgård.
Across all three films, Eggers displays a gift for historical immersion. Eggers excels at creating finely crafted period pieces, often intersecting folklore and legend with horror and violence. The craft on display in each of his films astounds, with “The Northman” in particular feeling like an early apex of scope and detail.
Compared to “The Northman,” “Nosferatu” appears slightly scaled back. The sweeping Viking vistas have, for the most part, been replaced by a simple German town. The most significant action happens not on a warship or in a volcano, but in a Transylvanian castle or a couple’s bedroom.
Yet Eggers uses this intimacy to unleash, filling these settings with life and terror. The German village bustles with signs of wintery life in the film’s beginning, sharply contrasting against the desolation wrought in Count Orlok’s wake. The world of the film, lavishly costumed by Linda Muir, feels lived in until there’s no longer life. Every piece of cinematic architecture, overseen by production designer Craig Lathrop, can at any moment turn haunted.
In a letter to the Critics Choice Association, the writer/director called the project his “most personal film,” recounting how he directed a stage production of Murnau’s dark fantasy as a high school student. Eggers and his crew have created a marvel of horror craft and production; from early in the film, you can tell this is the movie he’s been dying to make.
Art need not justify its own existence, yet “Who is this for?” and the aforementioned “Do we need this?” become common questions in the era of remakes and endless continuations. When observing the mastery of craft on display by Eggers and his crew, this question immediately falls by the wayside.
While the story of “Nosferatu” has been told time and time again, never has it felt so intricately crafted. Eggers treats the film less as a new endeavor entirely and more as a stage director would approach Shakespeare. The book may be old, but the production lends it new life. This interpretation becomes instantly canonical.
The visual style developed for this interpretation of “Nosferatu” stands out as the film’s highlight. Eggers pays homage to “Nosferatu’s” German expressionist roots through the extensive use of shadows; while expressionism uses shadows toward surrealism, however, Eggers uses it as a device for his hyper realistic approach.
Many scenes, particularly those in Orlok’s castle, utilize candles as an almost exclusive source of light. Moonlight, likewise, does what little it can to break up the thick shadows permeating every corner of this film. When Friedrich Harding (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), a wealthy friend of Thomas’, begins to smoke, a hazy cloud quickly fills the screen. By the time pure sunlight finally peeks through, it feels as if an established rule has been broken.
Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke uses this darkness to the fullest advantage, making audiences dread what lurks behind every shadow. Blaschke moves the lens deliberately into and out of the shrouded corners of each room, portraying the camera as both stalker and stalked. Blaschke makes watching “Nosferatu” feel akin to a waking nightmare or a bout of sleep paralysis.
This shadowy cinematography hides the film’s central character for much of its runtime, allowing only glimpses of the dreaded Count Orlok. This plays to the film’s benefit. Prosthetics designer David White takes the character in a new direction, giving him a greater look of rot and decay. Still, it would be hard for anyone to measure up to Schreck’s striking portrayal by looks alone.
Thankfully, Skarsgård relies on more than his looks. The actor trained with an opera coach to help lower his voice, a complete 180 from Skarsgård’s instantly iconic portrayal as Pennywise the Clown in “It.” As audiences fight for glimpses at Skarsgård’s latest horror turn, they are bombarded with the actor’s guttural voice; Skarsgård and sound designer Damian Volpe make Orlok truly seem like a creature from another world.
Hearing what monster echoed in the shadows, I found myself actively dreading — and morbidly looking forward to — any time the film shifted from day to night. The respite provided by the sun never lasts long enough.
Yet, this time, Skarsgård finds himself not as the star horror performer. That honor goes to Depp, “Nosferatu’s” greatest revelation.
Depp anchors the film, with Eggers elevating the role of Ellen from past prior adaptations. From the first moment until the last, this is her film, her tragedy. From very early on, audiences see that Ellen has spent her life not being believed — by family, by friends, by partners, by doctors. Her pain is often treated as mere mania. By the time those around her believe Ellen and wake up to her malady, Orlok’s curse has already been unleashed.
Depp sells the heartache and tragedy that comes with this character well, yet she truly shines when portraying Ellen’s horror. As the cursed connection between Ellen and Orlok comes to bear, Depp contorts and convulses in ways both mesmerizing and terrifying. At times, she genuinely appears as a woman possessed — a testament to the intense physical performance on display from the film’s lead. Depp’s performance encapsulates the scope of Eggers’ “Nosferatu,” both beauty and terror (as does the film’s robust score from Robin Carolan).
Fans of this story will know exactly what they’re getting into when they see “Nosferatu.” The film, for all its advances, retells an iconic gothic drama faithfully with the same deliberate pacing as its predecessors. Those looking for narrative novelty should consider looking elsewhere.
Those who simply want to see Eggers mount a production of an iconic horror story, however, will surely leave “Nosferatu” happy. When creators helm remakes with such dedication to craft and style, the repetition no longer feels burdensome.
We’ve seen “Nosferatu” before, but we’ve never seen it like this.