Jay Rohr
Nosferatu brings the darkness to life. Pure nightmare fuel, few films have such a tangible atmosphere. Superb audio compounds palpable eeriness and dread, while the cast’s reactions complete this insidious experience. German expressionist influences mingle with gothic traits in a way seldom seen on screen. Yet, the film’s very strengths could also be weaknesses.
Despite her desperate pleas, Ellen Hutter, played by Lily-Rose Depp (The King), is left alone by her husband Thomas (Nicholas Hoult). Disregarding her ominous dreams, the ambitious young real estate agent departs for remote Transylvania to conclude business with Count Orlok, terrifyingly portrayed by Bill Skarsgård (It). From their first encounter, Thomas is aware of something sinister yet continues into nightmare territory. Soon the frightful Count is literally and figuratively plaguing the Hutters’ hometown with Ellen falling under the malevolent influence of the nosferatu. Their only hope of ending this evil may be a sacrifice near impossible to make.
The film is based largely on F. W. Murnau’s 1922 classic Nosferatu: A Symphony of Terror. Long considered a masterpiece, some may regard a remake as blasphemous. Unfortunately, contemporary tastes don’t typically appreciate even the heights of silent era cinema. As such, writer-director Robert Eggers has updated a century-old classic with every available modern moviemaking technique. And though he remains tonally consistent with German Expressionism, as with Werner Herzog’s 1979 remake, there are notable changes to the narrative’s thematic layers.
For instance, Ellen is often disregarded in casual, sometimes comically absurd, displays of misogyny. This allows her to be misperceived by characters in the film as a damsel in distress which imperils all involved. They often ignore her grave warnings as hysterical outbursts, signs of some psychological disorder. This subverts the trope by making it a flaw in social perception as opposed to a character trait.
Throughout the auteur’s work there’s been an exploration of the certainty with which human beings engage with an uncertain world. Here, science is regarded as a means of salvation until supposedly learned men realize the limits of their knowledge. This adds a layer of cosmic horror to the movie wherein characters crack as they recognize the paranormal is real. Nicholas Hoult is particularly infectious with his fear as he shatters.
Such gothic elements have never been so expertly evoked on the silver screen. Unnatural experiences rock characters to their core, while hideous displays of ghoulishness unnerve the steeliest individuals. Excellent performances make it hard not to share their visible dread, especially with the atmospheric nature of Nosferatu.
Reuniting with cinematographer Jarin Blaschke, who has done every Eggers film, Nosferatu continues the director’s adept use of realistic lighting. There is always a limit to the reach of any illumination. Moonlight reveals patches of road, while the surrounding woods remain in shadows. Characters are regularly bordered by blackness. However, as much as it adds to the eeriness, the lighting has certain drawn backs.
Performers often turn into faceless silhouettes. Their features and expressions get lost in the dark. It’s possible to argue for visual poetics—people lost in a world of shadows, or details missing in murky darkness, etc.—but I suspect some audiences will be more annoyed than intrigued by the artistry. Still, there are several occasions where such lighting works dramatically well.
The inability to fully see Count Orlok is frighteningly effective. Unsettling hints of his hideousness build glimpse by glimpse until the full revolting reveal. The blue-grey tint to everything pays homage to silent era origins without sacrificing modern stylization. When characters are swallowed by shadows scenes jump to new narrative moments allowing editing to add a sense of discombobulation as if slipping through unconscious blackouts.
Production design is top tier. Sets and costumes not only have an authenticity but as Thomas travels to other parts of Europe, there is a real sense of foreign cultures seeming alien — the unnerving nature of the unknown pronounced even among people, let alone the ruins inhabited by a bloodthirsty corpse. Nosferatu features a world that feels lived in by all manner of disparate entities.
Taking a page from its silent-era source, the film features heightened performances throughout. This grandiosity to every delivery and line can be a mixed bag. Sometimes they hit with gothic grandeur. Such is the case with a solid performance from Willem Dafoe (The Lighthouse) as the eccentric Prof. Albin Eberhart Von Franz. Other times they can feel annoyingly over the top. Lily-Rose Depp’s histrionics can get a tad tiresome. Although her part is well played, being at a constant ten gets old. Aaron Taylor-Johnson (Tenet) is often a wooden cliché as stuffy shipping magnate Friedrich Harding. But Bill Skarsgård, unrecognizable in layers of makeup, steals every second on screen.
There is an artful grotesquerie making this version unique. Eggers’s Nosferatu is a tale of naked appetite devouring sanity and decency alike. From the audible glug as the fiend chugs blood to mad characters streaming drool during foaming rants, someone is always oozing fluids. Yet, there’s a minimalism to this gore that makes it exceedingly effective. Audiences won’t grow numb constantly seeing it.
Assisting such unpleasantness is unparalleled audio work. Watching this movie alone in the dark with headphones on would be a terrifying experience. The Count is augmented by a variety of creepy audio effects; the vampire’s very bite is an unsettling mix of sight and sound. But so is the general atmosphere. Nosferatu is as much a creepy soundscape as it is disturbing visual horror.
Robert Eggers has conjured dread, disgust, and disorientation. Inspired by Murnau’s masterpiece, with nods to Herzog’s remake, his Nosferatu manages to be its own film. Instead of shedding old aesthetics, it embraces them intensely while painting a gothic portrait of evil full of subversive takes on stale tropes. Even better, there’s nothing beautiful about this vampire. Although heightened theatricality and realist lighting are a mixed bag which don’t always pay off, Nosferatu is a frightening tale of the highest caliber—not just of horror, but of cinema as well.
