THE FILM
In the unsettling twilight between romance and dread, Nosferatu, Robert Eggers’ 2024 reimagining of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 silent masterpiece, transforms the iconic vampire mythos into something altogether more visceral and horrifying. Drawing from the eternal tension of gothic romance, the sacrifice of innocence, and a flood of visceral, gory terror, Eggers’ latest venture is as unsettling as it is remarkable. Every shadow in his film trembles with dread, every soft whisper of a gust carries the promise of doom. And much like the vampire Count Orlok himself, Nosferatu grips the audience with a chilling, almost suffocating force. The result is a haunting tale of love and monstrosity, where horror builds not in cheap thrills, but in the slow, cruel suffocation of hope.
Eggers, a director whose name has become synonymous with meticulous historical horror, has long proven himself to be an artisan of fear. From the blood-soaked Puritan past in The Witch to the claustrophobic maritime madness of The Lighthouse, and the bloodstained Norse epics of The Northman, Eggers has demonstrated a unique capacity for transforming history’s darkest moments into living nightmares. Here, he turns his gaze to the origins of the vampire myth, inspired by Bram Stoker’s Dracula, but with his own brand of scrupulous period detail and immersive terror. The result is a Nosferatu that eschews modern tropes in favor of a haunting meditation on death, decay, and the relentless pursuit of the soul.
From the first frame, we are thrust into a city on the brink of collapse, a place plagued by a terrifying, unseen malady, a metaphorical and literal pestilence that foreshadows the arrival of the Count. As Ellen Hutter (Lily-Rose Depp, in a performance that simmers with quiet terror) is increasingly haunted by a malevolent force, we sense the creeping presence of evil long before Orlok (Bill Skarsgård, inhabiting the role with a new, terrifying gravitas) emerges from the shadows. Eggers is not interested in immediate shocks; instead, he lingers in the tension between the living and the dead, between the light and the encroaching dark.
The film’s narrative retains the core beats of Murnau’s Nosferatu, but its emotional depth and unrelenting atmosphere of dread are what set it apart. Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult), an unassuming clerk, accepts a commission to travel to the distant, desolate castle of Count Orlok. What should be a mundane task turns into a nightmare as Hutter finds himself locked in a race to save his wife, Ellen, who becomes the object of Orlok’s ghastly obsession. As Orlok sets his eyes on her, Hutter, desperate and determined, must face an enemy far older and far crueler than he can possibly understand.
At its heart, this Nosferatu is a love story, but one that is defined by cruel necessity rather than yearning passion. The tender affection between Hutter and Ellen is a stark contrast to Orlok’s grotesque hunger, his own twisted version of devotion, predicated on death and suffering. The stakes of love and sacrifice are drawn with a stark, almost brutal clarity. The relationship between Ellen and the vampire is not merely about survival, but about the corrupting influence of desire, one that demands an unspeakable toll, a toll paid in blood and grief.
Skarsgård, free from the shadow and silliness of Pennywise (his turn as the murderous clown in IT), emerges as a vision of nightmarish power. His Orlok is not just an ancient vampire, but a physical embodiment of decay. His skin seems to peel from his face like an ill-kept parchment, and his movements are impossibly slow yet eerily predatory. In each frame, he feels like an artifact of death itself, an impossibly alien force made flesh. In a performance that eschews the excesses of typical horror, Skarsgård brings a terror that is as intellectual as it is primal. His voice, deep and guttural, is the last sound one hears before the darkness consumes.
Willem Dafoe appears in a brief but crucial role as Professor Albun Eberhart Von Franz, a man obsessed with understanding the malevolent force at work. Dafoe, whose previous role as a fictionalized version of Nosferatu’s creator in Shadow of the Vampire offered a campier take on the material, here delivers a more restrained, yet no less frenzied portrayal. His character, though frequently dismissed as mad by the others, is the only one who understands the true nature of the evil descending upon the city, a grim irony given that his warnings are ignored, and his own fate sealed. Dafoe’s performance, under Eggers’ direction, becomes a tragic commentary on the futility of knowledge in the face of inescapable doom.
Visually, Eggers once again proves himself a master of atmosphere. The iconic shots from Murnau’s Nosferatu, particularly the towering, skeletal silhouette of Orlok, are reimagined here with a grandeur that enhances their horror. The use of light and shadow becomes a language in itself: as Orlok’s silhouette stretches across a wall, as the rats emerge in swarms, as the wind howls through ancient stone, the visuals become as much a part of the narrative as the characters themselves. The color palette, decayed blues, sickly greens, and oppressive grays, creates an environment of suffocating dread, while moments of warmth, candles, and fires, become temporary refuges, only to be shattered by the sudden eruptions of terror.
The film’s score, composed by Robin Carolan, heightens the unease with a brooding orchestral accompaniment that swells and recedes in time with the mounting dread. It is both haunting and strangely beautiful, perfectly underscoring the tragic nature of the tale while also punctuating the horror that looms at every turn.
In its final act, Nosferatu transcends its origins as a simple monster tale to become something more profound, a meditation on sacrifice, the nature of evil, and the lengths one will go to for love. Ellen, no longer merely a damsel in distress, becomes the beating heart of the film, a final girl who faces the darkness with courage, even as the city around her crumbles. Depp’s performance as Ellen is stunning, bringing a quiet intensity to the role that turns what could be a mere victim into a symbol of defiance against the monstrous.
When the credits roll, the lingering terror of Nosferatu remains, not just because of its grotesque imagery, but because of the underlying human story. Love, sacrifice, and the terror of the unknown are not merely tropes, but lived experiences. Eggers has taken a 100-year-old tale and transformed it into something that speaks to the horrors of our own age, a mirror held up to our darkest fears.
In Nosferatu, horror finds a new face, one that is not just monstrous, but tragically human. It is a masterpiece of gothic terror, one that will echo in the mind long after the final frame fades to black.
PURCHASE NOSFERATU 4K HERE
THE VIDEO
In Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu, shot on film by Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke, the haunting atmosphere of this modern retelling is as much a visual triumph as it is a descent into dread. The film, presented in 2160p 4K UHD, showcases Blaschke’s masterful use of both vintage and contemporary lenses, capturing impeccable fine detail with a grain structure that remains organically light, reminiscent of the eerie textures of old cinema. This marks the fourth collaboration between Blaschke and Eggers, following The Witch, and the connection between their creative minds is palpable. Although the film is shot in color, the palette is muted, washed in a cold blue hue that leaves the world feeling as drained and spectral as the vampiric antagonist. The desaturation creates an unsettling effect, further invoking the tinted nature of the original, and at times the imagery feels as anemic as Nosferatu himself. Yet, even as the color is drained, the meticulous attention to detail ensures that facial expressions and set elements are rendered with remarkable clarity; when the lighting permits, of course.
Speaking of impeccable detail, these characters themselves seem to embody their costumes. Orlok’s decaying, antiquated vestments contrast sharply with Thomas’s modern attire and Emma’s delicate, flowing gowns. The tactile realism of these costumes adds an extra layer of physicality to the visual experience, each fold of fabric rendered with painstaking clarity. Depth and dimensionality, whether in interior chambers or the vast, eerie exteriors, are rendered with such skill that it is impossible not to be drawn into the world Blaschke has created. The few moments of warmth, those fleeting glimpses of light around a crackling hearth or torchlit scenes; stand out as brief respites from the otherwise cold, shadow-drenched environment. The black levels are rich and inky, and the sparse lighting only enhances the visual tension, making every dark corner a silent threat. Many moments are designed to remain impenetrable, but even in their darkest states, character and set details persist, as if the film itself is daring the viewer to find meaning in the dark.
The film’s blue-tinged hues drain any sense of brilliance from the whites, while the primaries are deliberately subdued, leaving no room for color to provide comfort or escape. Each visual choice, every shadow, every desaturated shade; conspires to envelop the viewer in discomfort, crafting a visual experience that heightens the film’s sinister tension that is steeped inside a cold, dark, blue corridor with only flashes of firelight that resembles the basking glow of the sun. The result is a beautifully dreadful transfer: a film that is as much a visual experience as a descent into the abyss. This is a top-notch video presentation.
THE AUDIO
Nosferatu awakens inside the Dolby Atmos soundtrack that signals its intention to envelop the viewer in an aural landscape as ominous as it is immersive. The bass rumbles deep and precise, never overwhelming, yet powerful enough to instill a palpable sense of dread that lingers long before the film’s title card even appears. It is a soundscape designed not merely to accompany the action, but to augment the tension, turning every sound into a foreboding prelude to the horrors that follow. Even before the narrative begins to unfurl, the atmosphere has already been cultivated, built with sound, as much as image, immediately placing the viewer on edge. Count Orlok’s voice, along with the other sound elements, swirls through the soundstage, pulling the viewer into Lilly-Rose Depp’s Emma Hutter’s demonic possession. It is the sonic equivalent of a thrill ride at a theme park; an immediate transplantation into a world that promises nothing but suspense, discomfort, and auditory delights. From that point on, Nosferatu offers a steady barrage of audio moments, each more unsettling and enthralling than the last.
One of the most striking audio sequences comes aboard the ill-fated boat, which is tasked with transporting Count Orlok to Germany. The crashing waves are felt rather than simply heard; the relentless thrash of the ocean, each wind-driven drop of rain, and the creaking groan of the doomed ship’s planks imbue the scene with an almost tactile intensity. It’s a testament to the precision of the Dolby Atmos mix that the viewer doesn’t merely hear the storm, but feels its presence, drawing them into the claustrophobic and ominous confines of the vessel. There’s an exquisite moment of finesse, too, in the delicate sound of rats skittering across the city streets and into the fictional German town of Wisberg. The audio design here is a marvel of directionality, as the rats’ movements circle the viewer, their tiny feet scampering across the cobblestones, filling every corner of the soundstage. It is a masterclass in spatial sound, with each footfall creating a sense of motion and purpose that connects the viewer to the narrative in ways visuals alone cannot.
The dialogue is clean, clear, and easy to follow, never lost in the maelstrom of sound that constantly swirls around it. Music, too, is handled with great care, always enhancing the emotional landscape without overtaking it. Together, these elements combine to create a sound design that is not merely functional but narratively enriching. The soundtrack does more than merely accompany the film; it amplifies the tension, amplifies the fear, and turns every scene into an absorbing, multi-dimensional experience. It’s not just a film score; it’s a portal into a world where every sound, every whisper, is a threat. In short, it is one fang-piercing and engaging track, one that deepens the terror and makes Nosferatu not just seen, but heard in the most thrilling way possible.
THE EXTRAS
There is a fantastic commentary track from the director, several segments that combine a behind-the-scenes series, a few deleted scenes, and an extended version of the film.
- Audio Commentary – Ronery Eggers delivers a wonderfully informative commentary, discussing the many facets of the production and the character. This is a must-listen.
- Nosferatu: A Modern Masterpiece (HD, 41 Mins.)
- Deleted Scenes (HD, 6 Mins.)
- Extended Version
THE ULTIMATE WORD
In 2024, Dave Eggers reimagines Nosferatu with a vision so finely tuned to the grotesque that it feels as if the film itself has risen from the crypt of cinematic history. His take on the Dracula myth is a masterclass in horror and visual aesthetics, drenched in blood and teeming with rats; a truly harrowing yet darkly comic masterpiece. Eggers’ direction is both inventive and unrelenting, with each actor’s performance not merely complementing the visual splendor, but also deepening the terror. Where many before him have failed to recapture the eerie magic of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 Nosferatu, Eggers has succeeded, crafting a work that is at once a haunting homage and an audacious reimagining.
The 4K transfer is nothing short of revelatory, underscoring the film’s decaying beauty while rendering every grotesque detail with sharp precision; each frame seems to pulse with menace. Meanwhile, the Dolby Atmos soundscape, rich in every sinister creak and breath, burrows its way into the viewer’s consciousness, leaving an indelible mark. The bonus features, which delve into the meticulous craftsmanship behind the film, are as compelling as the movie itself. This is a Nosferatu for our time: harrowing, beautiful, and irresistibly unforgettable. Highest recommendation.
WRITTEN BY: BRYAN KLUGER
