Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is hardly the first film to tackle the repressed desires of a young woman trapped in the rigid customs of Victorian-adjacent society. But few films of this type travel to such dark, depraved, and Gothic depths. The film is a remake of its landmark 1922 counterpart, attempting to strike a similar frightening tone yet differing heavily in terms of narrative and characterization. The young woman in question is Ellen Hutter (Lily Rose-Depp), seemingly happy in her nascent marriage with real estate agent Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult). The latter is a caring, doting husband, while perhaps in line for a promotion – all things Ellen seems very appreciative of. Yet, she can’t shake what appears to be recurring nightmares of past memories and future cravings. Perhaps it’s related to a mental illness or something traumatic in her past, but we know it’s an affliction steadily gaining power.
Eggers’ film is imperfect but striking, a mood piece full of dark shadows that often envelope the entire screen – sometimes to the film’s detriment. The initial creative choice is logical, and the movie teases and eventually delivers on the vampire of many names, but here we’ll call him Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård). The Count, just like in many retellings of Dracula, desires the flesh of a distant love he feels entitled to. All while concealing his monstrous nature, a combination of makeup, practical effects, and some rather garish CGI. Orlok’s look, mostly hidden in the film’s marketing, is drenched in darkness for most of the runtime; the audience rarely afforded an extended glimpse at his aggressively grotesque design. This is purposeful and to be expected – delay the reveal of your monster, use smoke and mirrors to your advantage.
However, an unfortunate result of this is that some of the film’s aesthetics take a hit, including one extended medium shot where it looks like Skarsgård is just on a dark set that has as much personality as a blank green screen – whatever production design potentially on display is completely overwhelmed by the darkness. The only thing we can make out is the Count’s bald head and comically large mustache (compliment). It’s just not very interesting or immersive cinematography in these moments. However, that doesn’t mean the film is devoid of entertaining in-camera shots, such as when Count Orlok’s hand reaches out over the city, projecting a giant shadow over unsuspecting residents in what is perhaps the film’s closest example of the space-bending surrealism found in the original’s German Expressionist roots.
In regards to Skarsgård’s visual design, it is a freaky concoction that effectively communicates his lack of humanity. But it seems to be no threat to replace Max Shreck’s endlessly unnerving portrayal and appearance in popular culture. If people are going to reference this character in gifs and memes, I think you’ll still most often see F.W. Murnau’s original, regardless of the 100-year software update. Despite this, while Eggers’ version can’t possibly hope to eclipse the original’s impact on filmmaking, it’s likely a better movie, even if such a comparison is largely unfair. Nothing can take away from the original’s influence, but it’s actual quality in modern day seems more proof of concept than what we would describe as a movie today – but people had to crawl before they could run.
By contrast, Eggers’ film expands on the characters, a change that most benefits Ellen and the newly created Professor Van Franz (Willem Dafoe). Dafoe’s initial appearance practically jolts the film to life after a particularly sleepy portion of the flick, entrusted with investigating a phenomenon that could be the return of the plague, before the professor wisely picks up the trail of the mythic vampire. With fire in every word, he’s the foil to the story’s mostly bumbling ragtag collage of wannabe detectives. However, one mystery he can’t solve is why everyone in Germany conveniently speaks English.
If the film does have a winner, it is Rose-Depp herself, simply because the movie raises her stock for what audiences previously thought her ceiling was as an actor. It’s her best performance to date, a mix of tender longing along with anger and angst. One of her big moments involves verbally dressing down poor Thomas, her rage reaching a boiling point as the desires of her body and mind remain in frustrating conflict. Nosferatu is somewhat of a stealthy body horror flick, with Rose-Depp doing much of the heavy lifting to establish that label, contorting her body and tongue and eyes, while also miming incredibly lewd acts.
Eggers’ story can’t help but be compared to the themes of its predecessor, both good and bad, just by simply recreating so much of the framework of the original. But Eggers’ personal touches on the narrative seem to be more telling of the aspect of the film he wants us to pay attention to, namely Ellen’s repressed desires as well as Count Orlok’s similarities with other monster movie creatures who attempt to forge romantic bonds with humans. Ellen’s predicament as a passive voice of feminity in a male-dominated society showcases how her current place in life isn’t wholly a result of decisions she made, but a pathway that was laid out for her.
Yet, Eggers upends this familiar story of oppression by revealing her most carnal desires as a gateway to a dark path, thus turning what looks like a coming-of-age yarn into a tale of horror. The tension of this conflict all builds to what could be described as an elaborate punchline, an image that is just as likely to elicit uncomfortable laughter in the theater despite the beauty of the cinematography. This is in keeping with Eggers’ dark sense of humor, as seen in The Lighthouse (2019).
When the dust settles, Nosferatu remains as a worthy remake, one that feels of kin with its predecessor with an auteur that has stamped his personal idiosyncrancies on the project, resulting in a film that expands the lore and the thematic weight behind the images. It’s also just a lot of fun. There are a few down periods in the movie that languish in a slow pace, but the film is at its best as a hammy, over-the-top Gothic stage play brought to the silver screen, combining haunting images with boastful performances. Good remakes do exist – as long as they’re truly inspired.
