Movie Review ~ Nosferatu (2024)

Few figures in horror have cast longer shadows than Dracula, that immortal creation who first emerged from Bram Stoker’s gothic imagination in his 1897 novel. The vampire archetype has undergone endless mutations through countless incarnations, from silent films to streaming series, yet rarely with the primal power of F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror from 1922.  Images from that landmark film profoundly influenced the public and artists from all mediums, with its rat-like creature of the night becoming tasty nightmare fuel for more than a century.  Now, visionary director Robert Eggers steps into those haunted footprints, crafting a blood-soaked concerto of his own that honors its lineage while drawing fresh vitality from ancient veins.

Set in Germany in 1938, this reimagining (I wouldn’t call it a remake) follows Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult, Warm Bodies), a guileless real estate agent who leaves his beloved new wife Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp, Voyagers ) to finalize a property sale with the mysterious Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård, Barbarian) in Transylvania. Ellen, plagued since childhood by strange visions and a sensitivity to the supernatural, feels an inexplicable dread about her husband’s journey. As Thomas uncovers Orlok’s dark nature, Ellen falls prey to seizures and sleepwalking episodes, which her doctor (Ralph Ineson, The Green Knight) and a mystic scholar (Willem Dafoe, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice) recognize as the psychic grip of the Nosferatu (the Romanian word for vampire). When Orlok brings plague and death to their hometown of Wisborg, Ellen must confront the possibility that her recurring dreams might hold the key to ending his reign of terror.

Eggers has built his reputation by excavating mythic tales and reanimating them with contemporary vigor. Just as he transformed the Norse lore that inspired Hamlet in The Northman, his Nosferatu carves its own sinister path while maintaining deep roots in gothic tradition. The filmmaker demonstrates continued skill at blending psychological terror and visceral horror, creating a cinematic environment that feels stark and startlingly immediate.  His vision presents Orlok not merely as a monster, but as a creature of profound loneliness whose eternal existence has become its own form of torture.  Werner Herzog took a similar approach in 1979’s Nosferatu the Vampyre, his version of Murnau’s film.  The difference is that Herzog’s Orlok is a far more melancholy fellow, while Eggers never forgets the evil that compels this creature of the night forward.

Skarsgård’s Count Orlok slithers away from familiar vampire tropes, creating something uniquely unsettling. His performance combines inhuman physicality (something the family of Skarsgårds is always 100% committed to) with moments of chilling stillness, making every subtle movement feel like a predator’s calculation. Yet it’s Depp who emerges as the film’s loudly beating heart. Eclipsing our notions of the typical vampire-film ingenue, Depp’s is a complex portrait of a woman whose spiritual yearnings become her greatest vulnerability and source of strength.

The supporting cast proves equally compelling, with Ineson embodying medical rationality crumbling before paranormal truth and Dafoe having wicked fun as Professor Albin Eberhart Von Franz.  Movie fans will remember how Dafoe nearly won an Oscar for his performance in 2000’s Shadow of the Vampire, which was about the making of the original Nosferatu, so this feels like a full circle moment.  Also notably showing up in the ensemble are Aaron Taylor-Johnson (Kraven the Hunter) and Emma Corrin (Lady Chatterley’s Lover) as friendly neighbors of Thomas and Ellen who become entwined in the terror, and Simon McBurney (The Conjuring 2) as Thomas’ employer who knows more than he lets on about Orlok’s dark plans.

Every element in an Eggers production has been carefully considered and that strive for perfection is elevated higher in Nosferatu. Jarin Blaschke’s cinematography transforms 19th-century Germany into a fever dream where shadow and light wage constant war, creating a film that is nearly black and white at times.  The camera sweeps through Orlok’s decrepit castle and the plague-ridden streets of Wisborg with hypnotic grace, while David Schwed & Linda Muir’s costumes blend historical accuracy with a neo-gothic romanticism.

Craig Lathrop’s production design makes every location feel lived-in yet almost otherworldly at the same time.  The ornate homes in refined Germany contrast with the decaying fortress Orlok calls home.  Writhing beneath it all is Robin Carolan’s score, mixing period instruments with modern dissonance to create an atmosphere of mounting dread that shivers the spine.

In the film’s striking final moments, as the night shadows fade toward dawn and a sacrifice seals fate, we witness the full power of Eggers’ vision. He’s created more than a horror film; he’s conjured an distinctive experience that feels uniquely alive while honoring its undead heritage.  It’s a stunning finale that is both hopeless and hopeful of what’s to come.  This Nosferatu proves that classic horror rendered with a steady hand can still quicken the pulse and chill the soul. It’s a magnificent nightmare that lingers long after the sun rises, an immortal story that continues to captivate and terrify. Some monsters, it seems, never truly die – they wait in darkness for visionary artists to summon them anew.