Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp) and Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult) are barely married before they are forced apart when Thomas is called to meet with Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård), a Romanian dignitary looking to purchase a manor house in Germany.  Meeting with the Count in his decrepit castle, they go through the motions of the sale, signing forms and exchanging of currency, but when Thomas struggles to be allowed leave of the castle, he makes a daring escape, though injured in his fall, he is feared dead when he does not return home to Ellen.  Orlok, however, moves into the dilapidated home he purchased across the way from the Hutters and brings with him a plague of rats that swallows the town into darkness and madness. 

Robert Eggers writes and directs his adaptation of Nosferatu, a gothic story with deep roots in film history, adapted famously by Werner Herzog in 1979 and originating with F. W. Murnau in 1922.  Bolstered again by the more substantial budget that Focus Features is able to provide, Eggers reteamed with cinematographer Jarin Blaschke, production designer Craig Lathrop, costumer Linda Muir, editor Louise Ford, and composer Robin Carolan to bring forth his intricate vision of post-Napoleonic Prussia.  Running 132 minutes, the dread-soaked drama follows closely in the footsteps of its predecessors, creating an ode to one of the monumental works of German Expressionist film. 

One of the most striking things about Eggers’ work is always the visuals, and while he never shies from a challenge – think the tight framing and black and white of The Lighthouse (2019) – the almost entirely night-shot of Nosferatu necessitates the creation of a new playbook.  Oil lamps provide most of what little light there is in the civilized world of the film, eventually giving way to the primitive candle and torch light as Orlok’s darkness drapes over the town in the later act.  In these, what can only be called warmly lit scenes when placed against the dank slabs of Orlok’s castle, there is always a sense of discomfort as these characters rigidly interact with each other dressed by Muir in drab tans and starchy whites; there is little romanticism to be had here as opposed to more opulent costume dramas or more traditionally sweeping romances.  That rigidness takes some time to get used to, and as the cast employs sweeping and declarative motions in their performance, it may seem at first out of place, but between the almost monochromaticly lit sets and sequences, as well as a theatrical flair to the movements, Nosferatu begins to adopt the look and feel of a color tinted silent film.  The camera cuts and moves in a way that appeals to the modern audience and would make the heads spin of those original audiences to this tale some 100 years ago, but this homage to the early days of the craft is deeply evident. 

This becomes even more clear across the action of the waning first act as Thomas communes with Orlok in his castle.  Even before he steps foot into the crumbling fortress, the color is drained from the frame leaving behind a blue/grey tint with a deep-cutting physicality to the image that reminds viewers of early, woodcut illustrations.  The most striking example of this is in Thomas’ carriage ride towards the castle, but almost every set change features some such example that can equally be pointed to; line drawings bid to life and dancing under the curse of Orlok. 

Within the cold confines of the castle, we meet the de facto title figure of the tale who goes by many names; Count Orlok, the undead, Nosferatu.  Skarsgård, with a low and labored voice that sounds as if it is passing through a gravel filter, is immediately striking in the few glimpses we see of him from the shadows.  Matted fur atop his moth-eaten uniform is all that keeps his rotting flesh warm, that and a handlebar mustache.  It should come as no surprise that Eggers has opted for a traditionally non-traditional style for his “vampir” blending the otherworldly aspects of Max Schreck’s portrayal with the curious allure of Klaus Kinski, but it must not be mistaken for the smoldering sensualism which Gary Oldman imbues the titular character of Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula (2002) that would eventually give way to the glittery lust as seen in Robert Pattinson‘s breakthrough role as Twilight’s (2008) Edward Cullen.  We are meant to be repulsed by the reanimated corpse that we see on screen, but had Skarsgård not been able to sink his claws teeth into us through his performance, the final act would not work in this tragic romance. 

Eggers’ filmography often features women taking a prominent part in narrative worlds where often men are assumed to be running the show.  Here is no different, with Ellen taking perhaps the most overt of these roles since Anya Taylor Joy – the original actress cast in the part – starred as Thomasin in Eggers’ feature debut The Witch (2015), and conversely with Hoult taking on the meekest of Eggers’ ill-fated heroes.  A stickler to period detail, however, Ellen is dragged through the rudimentary and oppressive theories of medicine at a time when psychosis was treated with sleep, leaches, and alcohol, though the doctors are quick to point out that the root cause of her illness is little more than that she is a woman and therefore hysterical by nature.  This fact infects Depp’s performance in so far as what she is able to do to guide the narrative, but it does not stop her from stealing the scenes she is in with a wild nature that jolts some life into the dusty story while not reaching so far as to be overacting in the part.  This is again aided by that stilted style that all the actors are using as they make larger gestures in homage to the silent stars long gone so as she contorts her body in front of Blaschke’s lens, it is not just the contortions seen in any straight-to-DVD exorcism film, but a call back to the full-bodied acting of those pioneering heroines of the silent frame. 

This film all culminates in a breathtaking final shot as that camera pans over what might as well be a neoclassical painting of sunshine on lilacs, but it is close in enough that we can see the details of the horrors we just witnessed which would not be known otherwise; the darkness in the frame is not shadows cast by daylight, but the remains of death burnt up from the morning rays.  There is no denying the beauty and the craft of Nosferatu, and looking at the film outside of the scope of Eggers’ oeuvre, it is an accomplishment, but for those coming into this film as the third iteration of Nosferatu and with however many Stoker-estate-approved Dracula adaptations under their belt, the film feels slightly hollow.  Until this point, Eggers has been working more in the realm of historical fiction where his films are deeply rooted in historical context, but the stories and the characters themselves are free to roam wherever Eggers’ pen will guide them.  Working within the context of an existing narrative, beloved as it is by film fans and of Eggers himself, seems to have limited the director in a way that holds him back from hitting those same highs as before.  Nevertheless, Nosferatu is still a wonderful work, and there are plenty of details nestled deep into each frame that will reward repeat viewers with a rich, fascinating, and yes, terrifying experience.