Nosferatu

Smash or pass (away)? One girl chose both.

The story of Nosferatu is probably familiar to anyone with even a passing interest in cinema. Over the years, this name has become synonymous with early horror, iconic imagery and an eerie atmosphere. With his 2025 adaptation, Robert Eggers tries to revisit this legendary narrative. The task is no small feat, given the original's enduring status as a cinematic classic. Eggers’ approach is one of reverence, staying remarkably faithful to both the 1922 silent film and Bram Stoker’s Dracula, the novel that inspired it.

The story remains largely unchanged: Ellen, a young horny woman plagued by nightmares, becomes psychically linked to the ancient vampire Count Orlok. As Orlok becomes fixated on her, Ellen’s husband, Thomas Hutter, is drawn into a web of horror after visiting Orlok in Transylvania. The Count eventually sets out for Ellen’s hometown of Wisborg, bringing death and an epidemic along with him. The tale culminates in Ellen’s ultimate sacrifice, as she uses Orlok’s obsession to lure him into the fatal light of dawn.

While the narrative remains faithful, Eggers refrains from imbuing the story with any deeper themes or contemporary relevance. Nosferatu is not a tale of power, abuse, or societal critique—it is, at its heart, a mythic vampire story, and Eggers treats it as such. And, to be honest, I found it quite brave in some ways.

Let's talk about the highlights first. Eggers’ Nosferatu is undeniably stunning visually. Shot predominantly in dark, muted tones—which are neither the most diverse nor the easiest to work with—the film captures an enchanting gothic atmosphere. It immerses the viewer in a haunting, fairy-tale-like world, where every frame feels meticulously crafted.

The performances are another high point. Nicholas Hoult and Willem Dafoe shine, delivering authentic portrayals that breathe life into their characters. Special praise must also go to the costume and makeup teams for their work on Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok. While his appearance diverges from the Nosferatu of 1922—at times evoking a humorous resemblance to Taras Bulba—Skarsgård’s chilling presence nonetheless anchors the film.

Now for the neutral points. Lily-Rose Depp, as Ellen Hutter, delivers a convincing performance, though it lacks consistency at times. Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Emma Corrin, while undoubtedly competent actors, personally felt slightly out of place in the film’s landscape. The score is fine—nothing particularly amazing, though. The suspense, which should be a driving force in a horror narrative, never quite reaches its full potential.

And now, the missed opportunities. Eggers’ decision to remain so loyal to the original material ultimately becomes the film’s greatest weakness. While its faithfulness is admirable, this remake fails to bring anything new to the table. The world of vampires and Nosferatu offers a rich vein of mythology to explore, yet the film chooses to stay confined within its established narrative. This restraint leaves the story feeling somewhat stagnant—more like a polished relic than a bold reinterpretation.

The pacing is also uneven. The first half of the film lingers too long on setup, while the climactic final act feels rushed. The emotional weight of Ellen’s sacrifice—a moment that should resonate deeply—is undercut by the film’s hurried conclusion. Expanding this segment and trimming earlier scenes might have allowed the film to achieve a more satisfying balance.

Ultimately, Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is a beautifully crafted homage to a classic. It excels in atmosphere and performances; however, its strict adherence to the original material limits its impact, leaving it unable to surpass—or even fully justify—the legacy of its predecessor. It is a very stylish and glorified movie that I don’t regret waiting for and watching, but I probably won’t revisit it again.

6.5/10