Nosferatu

I am inherently skeptical of remakes. They fall into a few categories: well-loved films which have endured through the years and are now considered "old", more recent stories for which the studio is hoping nostalgia will get butts in seats, or a simple play to hold onto the copyright for some IP. They're loathe to deviate too far from the original, scared of pissing off the die-hard fans who could otherwise represent repeat business and free marketing. It's most often the studios who seem most excited about them, with the cast and crew getting attached more for financial reasons than creative ones (to be clear, I don't begrudge people getting their payday, just don't get mad when people call it a soulless piece of content). Not to mention it's most often not my favorite directors who get attached, giving me even less reason to care.

Nosferatu was different enough to get me excited.

Most significantly, the original is over 100 years old, a silent German film in back & white (albeit tinted). While its influence has never faded amongst filmmakers, and general audiences are very likely familiar with the image of Max Schreck as Count Orlok, I'd wager a tiny fraction of them have seen the movie. Although it's probably amongst the most widely seen silent films these days, that's not saying much. Styles of performance and filmmaking techniques and the nature of horror and more have all changed so drastically in the century since that a new version will necessarily be quite different, imbuing it with natural value¹. Add to that my adoration of Robert Eggers, his enthusiasm for the Dracula riff, and the wonderful ensemble assembled by him and his regular casting director Kharmel Cochrane, and I could hardly wait.

As is to be expected when the director of The Witch and The Lighthouse continues his partnership with his cinematographer (Jarin Blaschke), the vibes are absolutely immaculate. The many scenes at night are rendered in a stunning, highly exaggerated, eerie blue-gray made to look like it was shot "day for night" but with an extra layer of darkness. You can almost feel the fog coating the scenery, despite it not actually being there. The shots composed by Blaschke are all as foreboding as can be, making great use of the surrounding mountains and forests and fields, their beauty causing your jaw to drop at the same time a pit forms in your stomach. The camerawork frequently comprises dolly shots which move just ahead of the character's movements and gaze, and eschew the more orthodox shot-reverse-shot for slow 180° pan, as if motivated by the sense of dread of the character's spirit rather than their person.

The score is mournful and classical, and the use of shadow to display Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård) exerting power over his victims through the ether is truly frightening. The production makes no attempts to replicate the most famous individual shots, instead choosing to forge its own path. Even in the design of their Orlok, there are huge divergences from Shreck's iconic look. Yet it remains well thought out, playing up the original's themes while simultaneously being incredibly unsettling. Eggers and crew know what they have on their hands, refusing to give you a solid glimpse of the creature until forty-five minutes in, and mostly keeping him cloaked in darkness thereafter. All of this is to say that the breathtaking craft work alone justifies the story's retelling.

Not that the story is exactly the same. While Eggers has executed a pretty faithful version, he is far more concerned with repression and what it does to a society than the fear of "the Other" that so pervades F. W. Murnau's film. While that remains at a textual level, the injection of sexuality without titillation throughout a formerly chaste story makes clear the director has more on his mind.

The very first scene reveals that Ellen (Lilly-Rose Depp) has been visited by the monstrosity since she was a child. While their initial encounter does frighten her, she is clearly excited by the carnality of being feasted upon, her cries unmistakably climbing towards climax. Eggers' fresh psychosexual element renders her husband Thomas (Nicholas Hoult) more ineffectual than ever. Their marriage halted the visitations, but the moment Thomas rejects her pleas to stay in favor of going away on business (to Orlok's castle, paving the Count's way to London), Ellen's visions threaten to deliver her back into the hands of the beast, with him helpless to stop it. This despite Orlok being utterly repulsive, implying that which draws them together lies within her, despite her best efforts to fight it off. There's some implication that what makes her unique amongst the townsfolk is her willingness to confront her base human nature instead of deny it, so that when it wells up from out of nowhere, it cannot best her, thus inoculating her from the "plague" that sweeps through the populace.

None of this would work without the masterful performance by Depp. She immediately nails the melodramatic style required by the tale, demonstrating the ability to change her emotional tenor on a dime. In recounting a dream early on which portends a grave fate for everyone she loves, she describes the oscillation between feeling immense joy and crushing sadness, somehow managing to wear both emotions on her face at the same time, mixed with the terror that such a thought brings. As Ellen's physical state deteriorates, night terrors come which have her body violently wrenching and thrashing about as if possessed, adding a level of physicality to Depp's capturing of her character's inner life that ratchets the terror up yet another level.

Skarsgård's transformation into Orlok is complete, rendering him entirely unrecognizable even once we get a full view of him. Enormous credit to the makeup and prosthetic teams: I thought Monstro Elisasue would take the cake for most grotesque creature at the cinema this year, but Orlok is a worthy contender. Shaped like a man yet more aptly described as walking pestilence, covered in oozing sores, and casting an imposing and sharp figure, his mere presence is disturbing enough. But the voice Skarsgård has developed will work its way into your dreams. Nowhere near as campy as Bella Legosi's Dracula yet clearly influenced by it, its deep baritone with a thick Romanian accent and constant sneer depicts a simmering, ancient evil. His movements are deliberate and otherworldly, all helping to prove that his embodiment is more than just skin deep.

No matter how exhilarating the movie, it's still limited by nature of being a remake. Eggers feels bound to keep many of the same plot beats, which unfortunately includes a bit of a narrative slump in the back half filled with too much exposition. He manages to make Orlok scary again, and the atmosphere is perfection, but he cannot make Thomas an interesting or important character. In fact, almost none of the other characters end up being particularly impactful. They help flesh out the city and time period and Ellen's life somewhat, which is important, but you'd expect them to have more to do with the core plot, contributing to that late slow down before the enthralling climax.

Despite that, it's admirable the way in which the supporting actors hurl themselves into their roles with willful abandon. Aaron Taylor-Johnson as the skeptic Harding is a wonderfully realized archetype. Ralph Ineson brings all the energy he's known for to imbue Dr. Sievers with a weariness and gravitas to contrast the impotent hysterics of Harding. But by far it's Simon McBurney and Willem Dafoe, as Knock and Prof. von Franz respectively, who are having the most fun; that there's any scenery left after they get done chewing it is a miracle. Both of them, but Dafoe especially, do such a great job walking the line between fear and older styles of speech and camp, the crown jewel of which is certainly a line that will echo around the internet over the next few months: "I have seen things in this world that would have made Issac Newton crawl back inside his mother's womb".

Every bit of the production ties back to the central theme of holding back the darkness inside. You can appeal to others all you want, you can admit something's wrong, you can try to deny it. But ultimately, it is up to you to face it down, to reckon with the consequences, and deal with it. There's no solace, no comfort, no breath of fresh air. The most terrifying thought of all: at the end, you're all alone, just you and your monster.