For my money, Robert Eggers is one of the best filmmakers working today. The Witch, The Lighthouse, and The Northman are all masterpieces. When it was announced that his next film would be a reimagining of F.W. Murnau’s iconic silent Expressionist Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror from 1922, I was instantly intrigued, despite my general distaste for remakes. Considering that Murnau’s original is itself a loose (and famously unauthorized) adaptation of Bram Stoker’s beloved novel Dracula, the basic story has already been presented onscreen numerous times. Even when removing all the straight-up Dracula films from the equation, Murnau’s film has seen a handful of reworkings, with one arriving as recently as last year (starring fan-favorite Doug Jones) and one being amongst the very best offerings from acclaimed director Werner Herzog (1979’s Nosferatu the Vampyre). So, what does Eggers bring to the table for his take (titled simply Nosferatu)? In a word, style.
The story begins in Germany in 1838. Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult) and his new bride, Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp), are houseguests of their friends Friedrich and Anna Harding (Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Emma Corrin). Thomas is desperate to secure financial security for his nascent marriage, and so he accepts a strange mission from his employer, Herr Knock (Simon McBurney). It seems an eccentric Transylvanian nobleman desires to meet in person about the purchasing of some decrepit property near the Harding manor. Of course, Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård) is more than just a mere aristocrat. Significant supporting roles also belong to Ralph Ineson as Dr. Sievers and Willem Dafoe as Professor Von Franz.
Eggers’ screenplay is not a slavish reproduction of Henrik Galeen’s script for the 1922 original. After all, the structures of silent films are fundamentally different from modern cinema. I already commented on comparisons up top, though, so I won’t be getting into that conversation. What I will say is that Eggers’ writing delivers compelling characters, convincingly authentic dialogue, and rhythmic pacing. Each character has a distinct and important place in the narrative, with no wasted moments. Despite the 133-minute runtime, it feels concise. It’s like a decadent meal but with the exact perfect portions for each course.
Themes are layered in organically. Depression and mental illness in general figure prominently in the narrative. The overall look of the film magnifies this motif, as well. Dreams and/or hallucinations also loom large. This aspect works in two ways. It disorients us as we become as unsure as the characters of what we’ve seen while also slowly immersing us into the fantastical world of the supernatural. It also dovetails with the mental illness theme as it endeavors to blur the line between sane and insane.
The performances are fantastic. The highlight is obviously Skarsgård. Performing under prosthetic makeup that makes him unrecognizable, he nevertheless commands attention, even when appearing in shadows. Though his material performance is immensely imposing, Skarsgård’s deep and raspy line delivery hangs over the film, drowning us in menace even when we can’t see him. Depp is the film’s secret weapon, however. She is the human counterpoint to Skarsgård’s relatively flashier, otherworldly presence. Her role is surprisingly physical and also features the most robust arc. The movie turns on the execution of these roles, and they are both entrancing in their own ways.
Hoult is clearly the third component of the lead trio. It’s a difficult role, as he is the connective tissue between the other two and a sort of stand-in for the audience, but he does more than admirable work. Taylor-Johnson capably threads the needle as a dutiful family man and a somewhat arrogant skeptic. Dafoe is an absolute blast to watch. Considering Dafoe played a fictionalized version of Max Schreck, the original Orlok actor, in 2000’s Shadow of the Vampire, it’s a fun little nod to the property’s history.
What truly makes Nosferatu stand out, though, is its visual presentation. The production design and art direction are outstanding. Sets, costumes, and locations provide a period experience so rich that we are effortlessly transported back to mid-1800s Europe. Jarin Blaschke’s cinematography is nothing short of stunning. Any single frame could conceivably be mistaken for a painting. Shot compositions are beautifully composed. As I said above, style is king here. The most overt representation of this approach is the usage of color. Many sequences are so awash in gray and black that it almost looks like an old black-and-white film. This plays into the theme of depression but also how Orlok drains the life from his victims. Warmer-colored scenes often butt up against these darker parts, making for a dynamic watch. My favorite scenes might be where this warmth pierces the bleaker images, such as when Thomas ascends the stairs upon his arrival at Orlok’s grim fortress and when the sun rises in the film’s final moments.
Considering the emphasis on atmosphere and imagery, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Robin Carolan’s instrumental score is elegantly eerie. It plays a large part in why the film feels both classy and creepy. At times, it’s content to slink in the background, building anxiety and compounding dread. In precisely deployed moments, though, it bursts upon us, slavering with strings and ferocity. It is an impressive suite of music, to be sure.
I wouldn’t necessarily call this an effects film, but the work that is present is nothing less than effective. Orlok’s look, which is a departure from previous depictions, is extremely cool in a deceptively simple way. I feel like any more specifics might constitute a spoiler; suffice it to say that I was pleased with the character design. The best bit of nastiness involves Herr Knock and a pigeon. Other than that, torn flesh, vomited blood, and contorted faces are all convincing.
Robert Eggers has bestowed another masterpiece on us with Nosferatu. The only quibble I have with it is that everyone, with the notable exceptions of Count Orlok and the Romani people, speaks with an English accent despite being German. This is clearly a fairly common conceit at this point, though, and in no way took me out of the story. This really is a wonderfully immersive film, and I unconditionally adored it. I highly recommend seeing it on the biggest screen possible when it opens on Christmas Day. I personally can’t wait to see it again, and I will enthusiastically add it to my collection whenever the inevitable 4K set is released.
Michael Cavender