A common criticism leveled against the modern movie industry is that the sheer abundance of sequels and remakes leaves no room for original filmmaking. Be that as it may, even the most jaded cinephiles would be hard pressed to take issue with Robert Eggers’ masterful rendition of the 1922 classic “Nosferatu.” Eggers, who I have considered for a long time one of the most capable filmmakers working today, treats the source material with all the reverence it is due while reinvigorating it with all of the techniques a century of advancement have provided.
To see this dynamic at play, one need look no further than one of the first lines spoken by Ellen Hutter, the film’s protagonist: “Why have you killed these beautiful flowers?” Aside from being transplanted from the original screenplay, this line deftly introduces one of the core themes of the movie, namely the convergence of death and desire. What would have been a romantic gesture is subverted by a fixation on the macabre. By that same token, Count Orlok, the film’s eponymous antagonist, has a romantic fixation on Ellen that is corrupt and dark. This element of nightmarish corruption is one of the strongest aspects of the film. Orlok’s castle is imbued with notes of grisly horror and Eggers’ trademark surrealism, one of the best realized depictions of a vampiric castle I have ever seen.
Matt Zoller Seitz, an editor and writer for Rogerebert.com, wrote a review of the film.
“A low, rumbling, moaning sound is a constant presence on the soundtrack,” Seitz wrote. “The camera flies or drifts or floats towards castles, through hallways, and into rooms where people are tossing and turning in the grips of nightmares.”
This attention to the sound design is very astute, there is a sense that something ancient and deadly is waiting to be awakened, and woe to any that would disturb its slumber.
That his remote castle feels so dreamlike cuts a very stark contrast to the harsh, grounded streets of Wisburg. In a world ripe with nascent rationalism, it is all the more horrifying to think that a creature like Orlok still lurks at the periphery. For in the end, it isn’t Professor V on Franz’s science, nor Thomas Hutter’s physicality that slays the Nosferatu. It is Ellen’s sacrifice, her ability to play by the rules of folklore long thought to be no more than fiction. As visceral as Orlok can be, there is something undeniably ephemeral about his presence, a shadow seen only through the billowing silk curtains. This is not something to be slain by a stake through the heart.
Just as Ellen’s yearning for company in the stark loneliness of modernity is what summoned Orlok, she can turn that same temptation back onto Orlok and cause him to succumb because he is in many ways a force of temptation. His vampiric allure is not the gaudy supermodel handsomeness of the “Twilight” variety, but he possesses a commanding allure all the same.
Wesley Morris with the New York Times comments on this sensuality.
“Alas, after more than two hours of chomping, impaling, infanticide and telepathy, I was so queasy with sympathy for all the sexual manipulation, so susceptible to it, that I’m ashamed to confess that I wanted my turn,” Morris wrote.
Difficult as it is to admit, Orlok is such a singular force of will and passion that it can be hard to resist, as Ellen was unfortunate enough to discover. It’s the paradox of human nature to find an allure in death, and a terror in sexuality, and “Nosferatu” distills this principle into one terrifying character.
That sense of command is thanks in no small part to a very able performance by Bill Skarsgård, delivering every grim line with immense gravitas. While the character design for the original Count Orlok is already well imbued in the cultural conscience, the remake emphasizes everything that made the original so unsettling. The spindly fingers, undead pallor and aquiline features are just as distinct as they were in 1922, without managing to feel dated. On the topic of performances, I would be remiss not to mention Lily-Rose Depp as Ellen. I have seldom seen a more dedicated performance, and the contortions she puts herself through only contribute to the grotesque atmosphere.
The cinematography in “Nosferatu” bears mentioning. The misty gray color palette casts the film into a sort of eternal twilight. While Eggers is no stranger to horror, this is certainly the most heavy handed he has ever been. There are a handful of cheap techniques used, including (to my immense disappointment) a fake-out jump scare, but that aside, the atmosphere of dread is very well cultivated.
Danny Leigh with the Financial Times takes a more critical approach in his review.
“What sticks is the Gothic high style: queasy lamplight, small coffins, imperious doctors. All good things in context — but side plates in need of a dripping, rare main course,” Leigh wrote.
Leigh seems to think that the film is all style and no substance, but fails to note that the movie’s substance is its style. When reworking a tale as tried and true as Dracula, which served as the original silent film’s inspiration, the question is not what must be done new, but what must be done well? Eggers didn’t need to reinvent the wheel, he simply used his very impressive command of atmosphere to bring that archetypal story into the modern day.
Junior Boen Beavers also noted his enjoyment of the film’s curation of atmosphere through cinematography and acting.
“I feel Nosferatu 2024 offers a lot in terms of aesthetics — it’s beautifully filmed and accompanied by great acting, giving it a lot of style,” Beavers said. “Some audiences might find the film too grotesque and eccentric in its portrayals of sex and violence.”
He isn’t wrong that this film most certainly earns its “R” rating and isn’t for the faint of heart (or stomach). However, I maintain that this viscerality is very important to reinforcing the themes of the piece, and that Eggers’ eccentric style cuts an effective contrast against the homogeneity that has been blighting Hollywood.
Above all else, this remake was done with an immense love for the original. Recreations of iconic shots and use of dialogue from the original go a long way in recapturing the gothic feel of the 1922 silent film. In today’s movie industry, passion like that goes a long way. So for anyone looking for a loving ode to silent film, a sophisticated tale of death and desire or just some good scares, it is my pleasure to recommend “Nosferatu.”
