Robert Eggers’ new rendition of Nosferatu isn’t just another vampire movie; it’s a meticulously crafted homage to the genre’s foundational texts, F.W. Murnau’s original film and Bram Stoker’s novel, while simultaneously carving its own unique space in the cinematic landscape. Rather than attempting to reinvent the vampire mythos for a modern audience desensitized by decades of onscreen bloodsuckers, Eggers leans into the classic tropes, inviting viewers to experience the primal dread and psychosexual tension that once permeated these tales. He achieves this through a combination of modern filmmaking techniques and a visual style reminiscent of early 20th-century cinema, evoking the era of the source material. While the plot closely mirrors its predecessors, the focus shifts significantly towards the interiority of its heroine, Ellen Hutter, and her complex struggle with an alluring darkness.
The film is set in 19th-century Wisborg, Germany, where the concept of vampires is largely unknown. Ellen, played by Lily-Rose Depp, is plagued by unsettling visions and a spectral voice that lures her towards her deepest, darkest desires. This constant state of fear and unease is dismissed by her husband, Thomas (Nicholas Hoult), and their friends as a female hysteria, a product of an "wandering uterus" rather than a genuine supernatural threat. This societal dismissal underscores the film’s exploration of gender dynamics and the constraints placed upon women in that era. Ellen’s struggle isn’t just against a supernatural predator; it’s against a world that refuses to acknowledge her experiences and agency. While the desire for connection and perhaps intimacy is present, motherhood, often associated with female fulfillment in that period, is not the source of Ellen’s turmoil, setting her apart from traditional portrayals of female characters in similar narratives.
Eggers skillfully weaves together elements from both Murnau’s film and Stoker’s novel to create a richer, more nuanced portrayal of Ellen. Her psychic abilities are not merely a plot device; they are intrinsic to her character, manifesting in physical expressions that could be misconstrued as sexual. The film makes it clear that Ellen is tormented by Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård), who reaches out to her through their psychic link. This connection, however, is presented with a deliberate ambiguity. While the audience understands Orlok’s vampiric intentions, the film shrouds the origins of their bond in mystery, adding an intriguing layer to the narrative. It begs the question of how Orlok initially targeted Ellen, a question that lingers and adds to the overall sense of unease.
This carefully cultivated sense of dread permeates the narrative as Thomas, oblivious to the impending danger, embarks on a journey to Transylvania to assist Orlok in acquiring a new estate. Unknowingly, he becomes a pawn in Orlok’s scheme to draw closer to Ellen. The dramatic irony lies in the characters’ unawareness that they are enacting a classic vampire narrative, a dynamic that adds a unique dimension to the film. Unlike contemporary horror where characters’ ignorance of genre conventions can feel forced, Nosferatu leverages this lack of awareness to heighten the tension and create a sense of unsettling anticipation. The characters are not constrained by the tropes they are unknowingly living out, allowing the narrative to unfold with a chilling inevitability.
Orlok’s influence extends beyond Ellen’s visions, manifesting as a shadow that stretches across Europe, teasing her with the promise of forbidden pleasures. Eggers utilizes modern filmmaking technology to create visually stunning sequences that amplify Orlok’s presence, reminding viewers of the chilling power of Max Schreck’s original portrayal. The focus is not on showcasing the monster in all its grotesque glory, but rather on creating a pervasive sense of dread, emphasizing Orlok’s insidious presence in Ellen’s mind and Thomas’s growing insecurities. This approach reinforces the psychological horror at the heart of the story, highlighting the manipulative nature of Orlok’s influence over his victims.
The performances of Depp and Hoult are crucial in conveying the psychological torment at the core of Nosferatu. Depp embodies Ellen’s conflicting emotions – fear, shame, and a disturbing fascination – making the audience acutely aware of Orlok’s intentions. Hoult’s portrayal of Thomas as a well-meaning but ultimately oblivious husband further accentuates Orlok’s manipulative power. He is a symbol of the patriarchal society that dismisses Ellen’s concerns, making him an unwitting accomplice in Orlok’s scheme. This dynamic enhances the horror beyond the supernatural, highlighting the societal forces that contribute to Ellen’s vulnerability.
Visually, Nosferatu is a masterpiece. Eggers’ use of black and white, punctuated by near-monochromatic sequences of blacks and blues, is more than just stylistic flair. It contributes to the film’s overall atmosphere of dread, evoking the chilling image of blood draining from a face consumed by fear. This visual language is a powerful reminder of vampires’ association with darkness and death while simultaneously serving as a visual homage to the classic horror films that inspired it. These striking visuals aren’t mere aesthetics; they are central to the storytelling, reinforcing the film’s thematic exploration of dread, desire, and the seductive nature of darkness.
Nosferatu achieves a rare feat: it pays respectful tribute to its cinematic ancestors while forging its own unique identity. It’s not simply a remake; it’s a reimagining that captures the essence of the original while deepening the psychological and thematic complexities inherent in the story. This skillful blend of reverence and innovation positions Nosferatu as a potential horror classic, offering a fresh perspective on a timeless tale of darkness and desire.
