‘Nosferatu’ REVIEW: The Unconscious as Thick as Blood and Bones
‘Nosferatu’ REVIEW: The Unconscious as Thick as Blood and Bones
Lily Rose-Depp as Ellen Hutter | Still taken from IMDb
Desires, whether controlled or repressed, are living specters that never wait for the other shoe to drop. They thrive most when left hanging, and all the more when least expected. And the same is true with what’s at the heart of Robert Eggers' ornate remake of F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu. This modern spin on the timeless vampire tale is steered by the sensual and psychological more than anything. They overshadow the physical monstrosities to present a self-assured, new vision that ventures more into the insatiable unconscious than it siphons blood.
From the watchmaker precision that made The Witch, The Lighthouse, and The Northman so detail-dense and transportive that they rightfully earn every ounce of attention, Nosferatu sees Eggers yet again in his careful research of period accuracy, folklore, and academic accounts in his retelling of the ravenous vampire’s story — now rooted in a more thorough view on lore, in line with his stylistic intentions that are soundly executed. His signature style in the country’s 17th-century period is palpable, brought to life by his team’s significant contributions to lushly designed set dressings, historically spot-on dialogue, and costumes that beautifully evoke pre-Victorian sophistication and gothic dread. The converging result is so mesmerizing that it becomes difficult to remember when to blink, even as the scenes are frequently shrouded in the enveloping nightfall.
This not only pays well-deserved respect to the original but also effectively establishes a somber and immersive atmosphere, maintaining consistent engagement throughout the storyline, despite the runtime exceeding that of the source material by a large margin. Nosferatu’s narrative begins on a strong note, immediately casting the spotlight on Lily-Rose Depp’s transfixing portrayal of Ellen, as she pours her pleading prayers into the silvery luster of the long night, only to have it quenched rather than answered by an encroaching darkness.
As soon as she wakes up, she is greeted by her newlywed husband, Friedrich Hutter (Nicholas Hoult) who’s on a rush to his workplace yet still manages to give affection in a moment’s notice. Coming off fresh from their honeymoon, he is promptly tasked by his employer Herr Knock (Simon McBurney) to travel to the farthest of mountains to meet the eccentric Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård) and sell him the dilapidated Grünewald Manor. The risks of the work at hand, made obvious in Friedrich's stutters, are outweighed by the promise of a more stable financial footing for his family.
Ellen and Anna Harding (Emma Corrin) share a walk together | Still taken from IMDb
Ellen's aforementioned dreams, however, bear a bad omen, as the echoes of her past traumas and desires resurface to haunt the home she's been led to believe is the relief from it all. Well-intentioned and understandable as it may seem, Friedrich's decision not to spare any of his wife's warnings in proceeding with the job's demand gave the looming shadow a more pronounced, dominant presence not just over their family but also over Wisborg, the city they live in.
The worldbuilding in Nosferatu is so believable, even in its earliest sections, that the architecture in Wisborg itself is just a tiny slice of it. From a technical standpoint, it's everything you would expect from an Eggers film: grandiose and rich. Both of which remain valid when describing the new perspective on Nosferatu's story, even if it is slightly denatured by a more straightforward presentation of its plot — especially compared to the director’s more abstract works, which I feel could have better served the film’s mood.
Moreover, there are many narrative choices that deviate from the original material, ranging from character relationships to the implications of several symbolisms. However, what makes this version of Nosferatu as sprawling as its ambition yet never astray of its stature is the choice to deliberately flesh out Ellen's character and her relationship, frayed and worn thin by time, with Count Orlok. The importance of their relationship is made hard to doubt, and the weight of Orlok's slow, menacing groans, intensified by astounding sound design, is as equally felt as his sinister antagonism in every scene.
Nicholas Hoult as Friedrich Hutter | Still taken from IMDb
Lily-Rose Depp's noteworthy performance justifies the ambiguities of the plot's subtexts, particularly in its psychosexual leanings, adding further intrigue to her erratic swings between frailty and madness. The mystery behind her carnal desires remains at a distance but alludes to a thematic pulp of clearly imposed insinuations from concepts of infamous psychologists Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud that examine sexuality and the psyche without becoming too overbearing for its horror archetype. I would argue that it becomes even more rewarding when considering the numerous masterfully directed scenes — from specific choices, such as where Orlok bites, to relationship dynamics and references to paintings—that reinforce the oppressive atmosphere and as well as the overall cohesion of the messaging that’s never only about an elusive figure.
Bill Skarsgård, inspired in every sense, also struck with force as the vampyr so thrilling that it not only stands strong alongside the heroine's but also escalates the story’s progression. Not to mention, the amazing prosthetics and voicework that make him more ferocious in all respects. When he enters a scene, it's never just part of an expository setup; it's a jolting suspense in itself, raising the stakes at every gasp.
This tension remains even when he's not on screen. Enter Friedrich Harding (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and Anna Harding (Emma Corrin), the generous couple who personally ensure Ellen's care under their roof during her husband's absence. However, her depressive, or more accurately, spiritual breakdowns, which were known to have lessened after she met her husband, turn out to be even more distressing than they had anticipated. As a result, the plot friction never subsides but continually builds upon itself.
Willem Dafoe put on an absorbing role, as per usual, portraying Professor Albin Eberhart von Franz alongside Dr. Wilhelm Sievers (Ralph Ineson) while they try to cushion the terrifying physical manifestations of Orlok’s temptations on Ellen’s behavior. There’s a conflict between the two characters' beliefs: one sides with the black arts and occultism, while the other adheres to the rationality of science.
This opposition mirrors the overarching motifs of romantic nihilism during the Enlightenment era, from which much of the macabre and vampire stories emerged as a reaction to the period’s strict, logic-oriented mindsets that excluded individuals from exploring the darker and unexplainable anxieties of the time. Both extremes consume themselves in the pursuit of a truth, yet the values driving them ultimately fall apart in the process. Because in the end, it’s an overlap, not a dichotomy.
Despite its analysis-rich texture throughout its runtime, Nosferatu's climax is personally disappointing, as it is not executed to its full potential, where the torment culminates in agency. There is much to be interpreted from the film, but its narrative thread on women under the pressures of societal expectations — even implied in Friedrich Harding's lust for his wife, Anna — fails to come together in the end with the gut punch I was anticipating. The big surprise, while gorgeously sequenced, did not have the backbone to make it stand out more. It came off as abrupt and hasty. Nevertheless, it makes up for one of Eggers' best ending shots in his catalogue.
To say Robert Eggers has done it again is never a dull task, and such consistency has been his trademark from the very beginning, and with Nosferatu, he continues to cement his perceptive vision for crafting films that not only attract prominence but also land with their brilliantly conceived content. Nosferatu evolves from a mere exercise in reimagining a classic to a film that stirs new, bold energy into the timeless tale. It feels right when cravings are appeased — and this film certainly does just that.
