To say that Robert Eggers has brought us the worst of the mainline “Nosferatu” features (which is to say, excluding those in which Klaus Kinski wanders on his own to Venice) isn’t necessarily the derogatory designation implied by such a statement; F. W. Murnau and Wener Herzog have simply left such massive boots for any eager artist to fill. To say that “Nosferatu” constitutes Eggers’s worst film is, also, not quite a derogatory statement, but rather a testament to the towering artistic vision that the historically inclined auteur-in-the-making has stamped onto the scene over the course of his still-brief career.
With all that being said… Yes, Eggers’s “Nosferatu” is both the worst of the mainline “Nosferatu” features and the worst of the director’s own, but not for a lack of either style or reverence. Indeed, “Nosferatu” demonstrates, above all else, a continued honing of Eggers’s skills as a craftsman, marrying his penchant for historical accuracy with occult-like imagery applied to one of the most famed narrative frameworks to ever merit such treatment. For those of the belief that craft is an end in itself, more than justifying another crack at such immortal material, then Eggers has you covered; for those looking beyond the shape of the specter, the image on the wall may appear to shrink somewhat under the scrutiny of candlelight.
The story of “Nosferatu”—really, the unauthorized story of Bram Stoker’s “Dracula”—is one retold so often and with such fidelity (at least with regards to this particular offshoot of Stoker knockoffs) that the only details that tend to change are the moderately adjusted character names and the fresh faces embodying them. Eggers, in an attempt to veer at least somewhat from the beaten path, has opted to shift his focus most towards the gaze of Ellen Hutter (a shockingly show-stopping Lily-Rose Depp), a 19th-century German newlywed plagued, for years, by an unwanted desire for the decrepit Nosferatu (Bill Skarsgård… allegedly; the level of makeup work on display is so thorough in its camouflaging effect that you could tell me Nosferatu was played by anyone from Tilda Swinton to a resurrected Rasputin and I wouldn’t blink twice).
As is typically the case, Ellen is married to Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult), an ambitious young realtor tasked with traveling to the estate of Count Orlok to certify his purchase of a piece of land in the Germans’ native Wisburg. What comes next is to be expected—rats, plague panic, appetites both foodlike and carnal—but the means to get there remain tinted with the Eggman’s everlasting flair for pristine assemblage that diverges from the grungier styles of his predecessors, all the while retaining a sense of somewhat-frustrating proximity to what came before.
Structurally and narratively, “Nosferatu” is no different from Murnau’s version to the point where one has to wonder what motivation Eggers could possibly have had in revisiting such hallowed material if he had so little to bring to the table besides handsome (re)assembly. The answer to that query is ostensibly the film’s focus on Ellen, a chance for both Eggers to explore the psychosexual dynamic at play from his lead’s insatiable desire and for Depp to prove herself more than up to such a task.
Spending most of the film writhing in a bed coated in layers of her own sweat and tears, Depp taps into a level of possession so rigorous and committed that the entire period-perfect set appears to shake with every moan; once Willem Dafoe appears as a disgraced academic-turned-mystic-savant come to liberate Ellen, one gets the sense that Eggers is killing two birds with one stone and showing off how solid he’d have been as the one reviving “The Exorcist.”
So compelling is Depp, in fact, that her bedridden presence somehow dwarfs all those around her more accustomed to the setting of “Nosferatu”—be it Hoult and Aaron Taylor-Johnson, at-home in fancy period garb, or Eggers regulars Dafoe and Ralph Ineson bringing their own sense of distinguished grit to the proceedings. Even Skarsgård, obviously a standout with his handlebar mustache and guttural drawl reminiscent of most stereotypical depictions of a Soviet commander, remains just as drawn to Depp as Ellen is to Orlok himself, and vice versa.
By Eggers’s own admission, despite his love of Murnau’s original film, he made a conscious effort to avoid Herzog’s own remake to refrain from unwitting influences; a wise choice, only Herzog also happened to approach his own version with a fresh view of sexual dissatisfaction, his version exploring Nosferatu’s own libidinal frustration as a living embodiment of impotence. Combined with the German filmmaker’s looming poeticism, the tragedy of his own adaptation gives it a distinct edge against Murnau’s version as, at the very least, a version that pays tribute without sticking too close to the outline of its predecessor’s silhouette.
To be sure, Ellen’s demented and half-willing attraction to Orlok gives “Nosferatu” something of a slant that Robert Eggers exploits with the verve of his potent gothic leanings—cinematographer Jarin Blaschke’s arid camerawork and composer Robin Carolan’s richly scraping music go a long way in rounding out Eggers’s vision of an 1838 portside town at the foot of snow-capped mountains. In comparison to Herzog’s similar deviation from Murnau, though (a comparison made unavoidable if Eggers is otherwise unwilling to relent from the shadow of the 1922 classic), 2024’s “Nosferatu” remains a handsomely assembled but occasionally static reenvisioning of a story whose echo has lingered, on the breeze for over a century, largely unchanged in the chill it sends down one’s spine.
![7 Reasons Why You Should Watch Trapped [2017]](https://www.highonfilms.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/17195318_1484806114871455_408270042_o-768x432.png)
