Nosferatu (2024)
It’s hard to know just how many vampire movies have been made. Some estimates put the number around 1,000 movies worldwide. Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula, written in 1897, has been adapted more than 170 times! Do we need another one? The latest one is inspired, at least in part, by Dracula and, more directly, by the 1922 Nosferatu.
The new Nosferatu, directed by Robert Eggers, is a spine-tingling remake of the traditional vampire story. Set in 19th-century Germany and Transylvania, we follow Thomas Hutter, a real estate agent, as he encounters the eerie Count Orlok to help him buy a home. Hutter’s experiences grow increasingly unsettling, and he starts to suspect that Orlok might not be entirely human. The vampire’s obsession with Hutter’s wife, Ellen, adds an extra layer of supernatural intrigue to this gothic horror.
Eggers has crafted a visually stunning piece that pays homage to its predecessors while carving out its own identity—and that’s important. We are not interested in witnessing another Nosferatu that simply replicates its predecessors.
The atmosphere of Nosferatu is thick with dread, and you can practically feel the cold, damp air of Transylvania seeping out of the screen. Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok is mesmerising. He’s definitely not your usual run-of-the-mill vampire; instead, he’s a grotesque, almost pitiful creature that’s repulsive and oddly captivating. Skarsgård’s performance is a tour de force, with a voice that seems to emanate from the depths of hell itself.
Lily-Rose Depp (yes, daughter of Johnny Depp) is brilliant as Ellen. She brings a raw vulnerability to her role. Her physical performance, especially during the possession scenes, is truly remarkable. You’ve got to hand it to her—those contortions look painful! Nicholas Hoult rounds out the main cast as Thomas. He’s a solid anchor for us as we travel through the supernatural chaos.
The cinematography is stunning. Jarin Blaschke’s camerawork is almost a character in itself, with pans and cuts that mimic the vampire’s movements, making us feel like we’re being stalked through the shadows. The choice to shoot in colour instead of black and white may cause some scepticism among purists, but I think it pays off. The muted, almost sickly palette adds a new dimension to the horror, allowing for subtle nuances that might have been lost in black and white.
Having said all that, I must admit, there are some problems with Nosferatu. At times, the pacing drags, and you might find yourself checking your watch during the slower moments. The plot is really atmospheric but occasionally feels pretty thin. The mood is great, but the substance is not always there.
However, the production design is exceptional. Every frame is meticulously crafted to transport you to a past era. The costumes, from Ellen’s corsets to Orlok’s ancient attire, are spot-on and add depth to the characters and setting.
One of the film’s strengths lies in its exploration of themes beyond the typical vampire fare. Nosferatu explores themes such as obsession, the nature of evil, and the delicate balance between desire and fear. Thanks to these things, Nosferatu is more than just another horror film; they provide us with some serious food for thought.
I’d like to give the music score a special mention. It’s subtle and effective and enhances the creepy vibes without distracting from what we are watching. There are moments when the music seems to crawl under your skin and make you feel very unsettled.
I think Nosferatu is a solid entry in the vampire genre and should satisfy horror buffs and arthouse fans. It’s not perfect—you might find it a bit too slow or artsy for your taste—but it’s a visually arresting and emotionally resonant take on a classic tale. If you’re looking for some Gothic chills (it is very, very dark) and you can put up with the slower pace, I’d say it’s definitely worth your time. Just don’t expect a fast-paced bloodbath (although there is quite a bit of blood!), and you’ll likely come away impressed by Eggers’ vision and the cast’s performances.