[Rating: Rock Fist Way Up]
In Theaters Wednesday, December 25
“It doesn’t scare us, but it haunts us.” –Roger Ebert on Nosferatu (1922)
A modern horror masterpiece that embraces the foundational elements of cinema’s true and complete potential, Nosferatu (2024) doesn’t just scare a viewer: it haunts them. A reimagining of the eponymous 1922 classic, the movie is a reminder that all of this vampire shit really IS scary, and if taken seriously by a filmmaker worth their salt, the results can peel the paint right off the theater walls.
Director Robert Eggers hews close to the story of the original with the plot beats, characters, and setting, placing it in 1838 Germany as the movie begins. Young newlywed real estate solicitor, Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult), has just learned that he has won the account of a foreign noble, Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård). Hutter must travel to Orlok’s castle in Transylvania to close the deal, much to the dismay of his young bride, Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp), who stays with blue blood friends Emma (Emma Corrin) and Friedrich (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) while her beau is away.
While Hutter makes the acquaintance of the spooky Count Orlok, Ellen is haunted by dreams of the same, which inspire a call to Friedrich’s buddy, Dr. Sievers (Ralph Ineson), who requests a consult of his own from mentor and occult specialist, Professor Albin Eberhart von Franz (Willem Dafoe). As Ellen’s condition worsens, so too does Thomas’ predicament as a prisoner to Orlok in his haunted castle, where the true form of the vampire as a fully realized monster comes into focus. When Orlok makes a play for new haunting territory in Germany, along with Ellen as an additional prize, Hutter must return to his homeland to crew up and save the day.
Eggers has done something special with this version by seamlessly blending the film’s Expressionist roots with more modern cinematic sensibilities. F.W. Murnau’s 1922 interpretation made liberal use of things like shadow, physical innuendo, and forced perspective to evoke the sensation of dread, sexuality, and chaos/movement as an outgrowth of not just Expressionism (i.e. feeling is more important than literally seeing), but also budget and censorship constraints. Similar to the “don’t show the shark because it’s broken anyway” concept, the result was an instant, foundational horror classic that is literally used as a text in film school when teaching about the creation of suspense and horror.
Count Orlok isn’t frightening because of the things that the audience sees him do, but rather for the menace he promises and the dread he inspires. And while Eggers isn’t shy about using blood, gore, nudity, and dismemberment to earn a gasp, these moments are the culmination rather than the source of the horror. Indeed, Eggers understands the importance of this Expressionist work on a molecular level, but also appreciates that modern audiences need more than that to get across the “scary movie” finish line.
Tonally, the cast knows that there’s no room for winks or clever meta text, here. A few dry chuckles aside, this is a deadly serious movie that demands the audience take all of this as solemnly as the characters whose lives are on the line. Depp and Hoult do most of the heavy lifting in this regard, and neither holds anything back when gnashing teeth or squirming in response to Orlok’s dark pall. But it’s the supporting cast that adds the depth and perspective needed to pay off the emotional currency offered by the leads, and none of them let the movie or the audience down.
Dafoe, this time playing the vampire hunter rather than the creature itself, is a standout amongst standouts, and matches the unrestrained energy and pathos that Skarsgård brings to Orlok. And as for the big bad, whatever a person might expect or anticipate due to the secrecy of the character design, this is different/better. Skarsgård uses his posture and even vocal pitch to add an extra layer of dread to his portrayal of an ancient, bloodthirsty, cursed creature, putting a new spin on a role that might fairly be considered played out (up until now).
And even if one puts all of that aside, the movie’s outward texture is a triumph of dynamic low-lighting and muted color schemes, yet with crisp enough edges that it all reads like elegiac poetry on-screen. These visual choices also enhance the make-up, costumes, and prosthetics of the production, hiding their seams just enough in the recesses of light to find a balance that’s both stunning and effective. Eggers’ use of shadows, at once a callback to the original as well as a hook for this new incarnation, is vital in this regard, but also serves as the primary visual motif and works wonders as a literal and figurative harbinger of doom.
Terrifying, mesmerizing, beautiful yet terrible: this new version of Nosferatu hits for the horror cycle and never looks back. Like Orlok’s shadow, which brings doom to everything it touches, the movie doesn’t simply play for a viewer, it invades and envelops them. Intense, bracing, and unsettling in all the ways a modern horror movie should be, sure: but as Roger Ebert remarked about the original, it also haunts.
“Obvious Child” is the debut novel of Warren Cantrell, a film and music critic based out of Seattle, Washington. Mr. Cantrell has covered the Sundance and Seattle International Film Festivals, and provides regular dispatches for Scene-Stealers and The Playlist. Warren holds a B.A. and M.A. in History, and his hobbies include bourbon drinking, novel writing, and full-contact kickboxing.
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