Since I don't regularly keep up with what's going on in the movie world, unless it's something I'm really interested in or passionate about, I didn't know there was another version of
Nosferatu on the way until near the end of 2023. Although I'm pretty sure I saw an image from it on IMDB around that time, like with
The Invitation, Cody Leach's channel was where I first really learned of it. He mentioned it in one of his annual end-of-the-year videos, where he always talks about the movies he's most anticipating in the coming year, placing it at number six. He showed a couple of images, notably a close-up of Ellen Hutter, with the shadow of Count Orlok's hand on her, which is the one that made an impact with me, and it was also thanks to him that I came to understand who Robert Eggers was. By that point, I had seen and liked
The Witch, which I knew was made by a first-timer, but I didn't know said director had since embarked on quite an illustrious filmmaking career. Specifically, while I'd heard of
The Lighthouse (I still haven't seen it, though), I didn't know it was the same director as
The Witch. But, once I put together who Eggers was, I, like Cody Leach, could see how his style went together with
Nosferatu like bread and butter. And that was all but confirmed when the trailers dropped a couple of months before it was released. If you saw them, then you know those trailers were a visual feast in and of themselves, with clips of amazing cinematography, some of which felt akin to an art film, and the Gothic production design and costumes, and you could also hear Eggers' propensity for period-accurate dialogue within them.
But those trailers were also freakish, to say the least, as they bombarded you with frightening images such as Ellen's unnatural spasms and gyrations, Herr Knock preparing to bite off a pigeon's head, Orlok's shadow appearing behind a billowing window curtain in front of Ellen, and that incredible image of his hand's shadow spreading across Wisburg. The first teaser was especially creepy, as you saw so many of these images, punctuated by various characters saying, "He is coming," and it ended with Willem Dafoe's Prof. von Franz declaring, "We are here encountering the vampyr... Nosferatu." Moreover, while I initially thought it was a strange decision, it seemed as though releasing it on Christmas Day was actually fitting, as the story itself was apparently set around that time of year, with images of the snowy town in absolute chaos, being invaded by plague rats. And finally, the trailers only gave you glimpses of Orlok himself, usually as a dark silhouette that always kept his face hidden. From all that alone, I knew that this film would be special, and, as Cody Leach said, had a real chance at breathing new life into the vampire subgenre. But, as often happens, even with movies I have a major interest in, I didn't see Nosferatu in the theater, but instead saw it for the first time on Blu-Ray the following summer. Of course, I knew it was a fairly big hit, both critically and commercially, with Cody saying it was absolutely visually stunning, and giving kudos to all of the actors, particularly Lily-Rose Depp, Bill Skarsgard, and Willem Dafoe. At the same time, Cody had a problem with the old-style language and dialects that the characters spoke in, and also mentioned something about Orlok's design that he felt diminished his scariness a bit. Regardless, he and so many others gave enough of a glowing endorsement to where I knew even more so that this was something I needed to check out. And when I finally did, I was very glad.
Despite anything those few dissenters may have said, I had a feeling I was going to enjoy Nosferatu, if nothing else than because it was a classic, Gothic-style vampire movie, which I hadn't seen in a very long time. And, boy, does it deliver on that score in the highest of spades (if there were a bigger suit of cards, I would use that term instead, as this film deserves it). The cinematography, the location work, the production design, the costumes, and especially the atmosphere are all just spectacular, and make you feel as though you've been transported back to a version of early 19th Century Germany where pure evil does indeed exist. What's more, all of the actors are on point and perfectly-suited for their roles, coming off as completely natural when they speak in their old dialects. Speaking of which, much like the Werner Herzog version from 1979, this film greatly develops and fleshes out the rather shallow characters from the original silent film, but also goes further with them, creating a very twisted and unnerving connection between Ellen and Orlok, and giving the characters of the Hardings and the story's Van Helsing counterpart far more significance than they've had in the past. Where I really feel it's especially superior to the Herzog film is how, despite being another remake, as well as yet another take on the classic story of Dracula, it is very much its own film, whereas Herzog tended to mostly emulate what F.W. Murnau did (albeit very effectively and without getting to the point where it felt like a total copy). It also definitely doesn't skimp on the frightening and freakish imagery, as there are moments here that are absolutely nightmarish, nor does it skirt around the sexual side of vampirism. If I have any qualms, it's that, aside from it being a little too long and drawn out, its style can get overwhelming. Just about every scene is shot and directed to be so visually dynamic and arresting that, eventually, you start to feel exhausted and wish that Eggers would ease back a little. But, other than that, I think this film is amazing, and I think it may actually be my personal favorite version of the Nosferatu story.
Terribly lonely and depressed, a young woman named Ellen prays for a companion. One night, much to her shock, something hears her: a shadowy figure who speaks to her in an ancient language, asking her to swear to be one with it forever. She says yes, and then sees a vision of a frightening creature, which grabs her neck and sends her into convulsions. Years later, in 1838, Ellen is recently married to Thomas Hutter, a young real estate agent, and they live in the port town of Wisburg, Germany. One morning, Ellen awakens in an uneasy state and asks Thomas to stay with her. As much as he wishes he could, he leaves for the office, and when he's gone, she senses that he will soon be sent away from her. Arriving at his agency, he meets with his employer, the eccentric Herr Knock. Knock tells him that a Transylvanian count is interested in buying property in Wisburg, and he's already selected Grunewald Manor for him, despite it being in ruins. Moreover, Knock tells Thomas that the Count, Orlok, is too ill to travel, so he must go to his castle in Transylvania to complete the sell. Told that doing so will ensure an official position within the firm, Thomas agrees. Ellen is not at all happy when he tells her and begs him not to leave, telling him of a disturbing dream she recently had about marrying a dark entity she can only describe as Death itself. Despite her insisting it's a prediction of something horrific that will soon befall them, Thomas doesn't take it seriously. He leaves Ellen in the care of his wealthy friends, Friedrich and Anna Harding, and departs on horseback for Transylvania. Arriving at a small settlement, he finds himself hardly welcomed by the locals, especially when he mentions Castle Orlok. He's allowed to stay at the inn, but is told not to go to the castle. That night, he witnesses a horrific ritual where gypsies open the grave of an alleged vampire and stake him, and when he awakens the next morning, he finds the settlement abandoned and his horse gone. Forced to continue on foot, he is picked up that night by a mysterious carriage, which takes him to the castle. There he meets Orlok, who proves to be an extremely intimidating and frightening figure, and during his stay at the castle, Thomas grows more fearful, as well as feels ill. When they complete the "sale," Thomas actually unknowingly signs Ellen over to the Count. Now, he intends to travel to Wisburg and ensure Ellen keep the promise she made long ago, while also bringing with him a plague that ravages the town.
Nosferatu was a passion project for Robert Eggers that he'd planned on doing for quite some time. Citing the original silent film as leading to his interest in filmmaking, as he'd turned it into a stage play while he was in high school, and then got the chance to direct a professional version at the Edwin Booth Theatre in New York, it initially seemed like he would get to make it as his second film, after The Witch. But, in a 2016 interview with Indiewire, he himself expressed reservations, saying, "It feels ugly and blasphemous and egomaniacal and disgusting for a filmmaker in my place to do Nosferatu next. I was really planning on waiting a while, but that's how fate shook out." And in the end, he did decide to wait, instead going on to do The Lighthouse and The Northman. While they were both critically acclaimed, neither of those films were as commercially successful as The Witch. Still, once Eggers had a little more experience under his belt, he decided it was now time for Nosferatu. And since it was what he'd wanted to do for so long, you can tell he really indulged himself while filming it. It paid off, too, as the film made $180 million on a budget of $50 million, becoming his most commercially successful film, so far.
I hadn't seen anything that Lily-Rose Depp had acted in before, and mainly just knew her as Johnny Depp's daughter. I did know that she had appeared with him in Kevin Smith's
Tusk, which, again, I'd never seen, but I'd heard she wasn't very good in that (not that that's the kind of movie where you'd expect to see amazing acting). Even
Nosferatu's casting director had serious doubts about hiring her after the original choice for Ellen Hutter, Anya Taylor-Joy, who'd previously starred in
The Witch, dropped out. But, boy, did Lily-Rose prove that she'd come a long way, as she gives both an extremely emotional and physical performance here. She portrays Ellen as a very haunted woman, one who's been so ever since she was a child. During the film's second act, when she's bedridden due to Count Orlok's growing influence, she tells Prof. von Franz of how she's always had visions and strange dreams, along with apparent seizures, and that she would sometimes wander out into the night. She would also often know various things she couldn't possibly know, such as when her mother would die. Eventually, her father became frightened of her and started avoiding her, leading her to become so sad and lonely that she prayed for a companion. Due to her clairvoyance and openness to the other side, this led to her awakening and gaining the attention of Orlok. And when he came to Ellen after she called out, and she agreed to be his, it allowed him to establish a psychic link between them. According to Ellen, her visions and nightmares worsened afterward, and when her father once found her lying outside, naked, he was about ready to send her away to an asylum. But once she met and married Thomas, everything stopped, and she finally felt like a normal woman. Thus, she becomes frantic at the thought of Thomas being sent away from her, especially since she's just had a horrific dream about her being wed to a frightening, dark figure. And once Thomas arrives at Orlok's castle, meets the Count, and unknowingly signs Ellen over to him, her seizures, night wanderings, and visions return, worse than ever.
It's in those moments when Ellen is basically possessed by Orlok that Lily-Rose Depp really shows what she's capable of, especially physically. Not only do her eyes roll up into the back of her head, and her body spasms and gyrates, but, in the scene where von Franz first witnesses this, Ellen talks out of her head, talking about how "he" is coming, then convulses wildly, making an unsettling, rapid grunting sound, before her body arches up, stays like that for a second, and then collapses back onto the bed. Next,
she crawls along the bed, making a hideous wheezing and gagging sound, before Orlok briefly speaks through her, and she falls back onto the bed, screaming and begging for help. Ironically, at the same time that Orlok arrives in Wisburg, Thomas also makes it back, and this seems to weaken the Count's hold over Ellen. As he returns terribly ill and in bad physical condition, Ellen is tasked with nursing him back to health, and experiences a bit of what the others had when she was fully in Orlok's thrall. She
soon receives an unwelcome visit from the Count while staying with Anna Harding in her bedroom one night. Confronting him about what he's done to her, she tells him how much she loathes him, and refuses to believe him when he says Thomas signed her over to him for a sack of gold. She also calls him out for the loathsome, loveless monster he is, even when he tries to make her remember some of the "moments" they had when he first became attached to her. Enraged when she refuses to submit to him, he gives her three nights to do so and complete the transaction
that Thomas unknowingly started, or he will kill everyone she cares about, ending with Thomas. Anna was the first one whom Orlok targets, as Ellen awakens to find her being attacked by a group of plague rats. The next day, Ellen tries to warn Friedrich Harding about Orlok, but he's so emotionally exhausted and overcome with grief that he orders her and Thomas to return to their home, despite the latter still being very ill.
That night, Ellen tells Thomas about her calling to Orlok and admits that she, initially, enjoyed being with him, but it turned to absolute torture. She adds that she was only able to free herself from him when she married Thomas, but Orlok has now returned for her, and that he represents everything that is dark and unclean about her. She then confronts Thomas about his signing her over to Orlok and berates him for allowing the Count to fool and manipulate him, as well as for having been so fearful, which is one
instance where I feel Ellen comes across as unlikable and unreasonable. She also berates him for being so obsessed with financially securing their future by gaining a position in Knock's firm, angrily turning over some shelves of plates and ceramics, calling them meaningless. Then, Orlok's influence comes over her again, causing her to convulse wildly and let out nasty wheezing, gasping breaths, while drooling everywhere. When Thomas goes to get Dr. Sievers, Ellen begs him not to, before her demeanor changes again and she says, "You could never please me as he
could." This leads to them having very rough sex, with Ellen exclaiming that she hopes Orlok sees this. When they're done, she freaks out again, declaring, "Without you, I will become a demon!" The next day, with Anna Harding, as well as her and Friedrich's two young daughters, dead, Ellen tells von Franz that she knows only she can stop Orlok and the plague that is ravaging Wisburg. He agrees with her, and also agrees to keep Thomas away, on a supposed mission to find Orlok's resting place, so Ellen can do what must be done: call to and offer herself to Orlok, and let him feed on her until dawn, which destroys him.
Like with the Werner Herzog version, this
Nosferatu's version of Thomas Hutter is a much more interesting character than he is in the silent film, and also has more to him than most versions of Jonathan Harker. Nicholas Hoult portrays Thomas in a manner that's kind of similar to Bruno Ganz as Harker in the Herzog film: an eager real estate agent who dearly loves his wife, but is also determined to become a partner in his firm so he can provide a better life for her. Thus, when he's given the job of traveling to Transylvania and fulfilling the sale of Grunewald Manor to Count Orlok, he takes it, despite knowing it's a six-week journey that he'll have to embark upon immediately. However, unlike Ganz's Harker, when Ellen tells Thomas of the frightening dream she recently had, insisting it portends something horrific on the horizon, he's very dismissive about it. He believes it was just an insignificant delusion, like the ones she's had in the past, and which he'd hoped she'd put behind her. He tells her not to talk about this dream aloud to anyone, assures her that everything is well, and that when he returns, he'll finally have the means to make something of himself and give her everything he feels she deserves. Thus, he leaves her with the Harding family, and heads off to Transylvania. But no sooner does he arrive than he begins to realize he's unprepared for what he encounters. Arriving at a small hamlet, he's laughed at and mocked by the gypsies there, while the innkeeper initially blames him for the ruckus they cause, and isn't having it when he mentions Castle Orlok. It's only when he offers to pay double the rent that he's allowed to stay, but when he does, he's warned not to go to the castle and to beware of Orlok's shadow. And unlike in past versions of
Nosferatu, where he remains skeptical and even derisive, Thomas, following his night at the inn, begins to believe there is something to their claims. He witnesses the gypsies perform a ritual where they open a purported vampire's grave and stake him, and when Thomas suddenly awakens back in his room the next morning, he finds his shoes are muddy, indicating it wasn't a dream. What's more, the hamlet is completely deserted and his horse is gone, forcing him to continue to the castle on foot.
Things start to become frightening for him when, at a crossroads in the middle of a dark forest, he's approached by an intensely creepy, driverless carriage. When it stops in front of him and beckons him to climb in, he feels compelled to do so, and is taken to Castle Orlok. Arriving there, his fear only intensifies when he meets the Count, as his frightening, uncanny appearance, deep, booming voice, and intensely ordering Thomas to do as he says and address him as his "lord," leave him utterly
petrified. Upon being told to sit down and get out the papers necessary to complete the sale of Grunewald Manor, Thomas, despite his intense fear, does so. At the same time, the longer he's in Orlok's presence, the more he starts to realize he may not be human, given how he seems to virtually teleport around the room. He also tries to ask about what he saw the night before, but Orlok quickly makes it clear he's not permitted to speak about it. The Count's outburst at it leaves him so shaken that he ends up cutting himself
when he tries to cut a loaf of bread. And when Orlok tells him to come by the fire so that he may "ease" his wound, Thomas is now so scared that he's brought to tears, especially when he suddenly finds himself sitting in a chair beside the fireplace, without having consciously moved from the table, and sees Orlok approaching. Awakening on the dining room floor the next morning, he finds the castle seemingly deserted, and also sees a pair of bite marks on his chest. That night, when they complete the deal, Orlok presses Thomas to sign a document he's unable to read, as it's
in the Count's ancient native language. He also asks to see the locket that Ellen gave him, which contains a bit of her hair, and Thomas gives it to him. When Thomas hesitates to sign the document, Orlok presents him with a bag of gold, and despite still sensing that something is wrong, that is enough to get him to sign. Once he's done it, he asks if he may leave as soon as he can, saying he's having terrible dreams and fears he's becoming ill. However, Orlok basically imprisons him, ordering him to stay until he's "well rested," and keeps the locket.
When he suddenly awakens back in his room, and finds more bite marks on his chest, Thomas attempts to escape the castle. Instead, he finds his way down into the crypt, and discovers Orlok sleeping in a coffin. He tries to kill him with a pickaxe, but right at that moment, the sun sets and Orlok awakens. He easily disarms him, sending Thomas running back to his room. But, even though he barricades himself in there, Orlok uses his growing influence over him to make him open the door. With nowhere to go,
Thomas is quickly subdued and fed upon again, while at the same time, thousands of miles away, Ellen begins to fall back under Orlok's thrall. When Thomas awakens the following day, he manages to escape the castle, just barely avoiding being ripped apart by wolves under Orlok's command. He leaps out a window and falls down into a river below, and is later found by a convent of Eastern Orthodox Nuns. As they attempt to nurse him back to health, they tell him of Orlok's demonic origins and that he is still
suffering from his influence. However, Thomas, knowing that Orlok is heading to Wisburg, soon leaves the convent and heads home, despite still being gravely ill. He manages to make it there the very night that Orlok arrives on the ship carrying him in his coffin, but all but collapses when he does. Found by Ellen, who sensed his arrival, he tries to warn her of what happened, that Orlok has her locket, before becoming ill to where he can barely speak. She tries to nurse him back to health, while he, in turn, continues to suffer from Orlok's hold. But, after he
and Ellen are forced to return to their home, Thomas does start to recover. He becomes well enough to insist that they must flee Wisburg immediately, when Ellen tells him of her connection with Orlok and that he has returned to destroy their marriage, which had previously kept her safe from him. Then, she confronts him with how Orlok deceived him into signing her over, and admonishes him for not listening to her about how she didn't need a fancier house or anything other than his love. And, after having one of her seizures, she accuses Thomas of
being unable to satisfy her like Orlok, leading them to have rough sex. Afterward, when Ellen frets about what will happen to her if Orlok isn't stopped, Thomas insists that he will save her and all of Wisburg by personally staking the Count when they find his hiding place and coffin. However, he soon learns, very tragically, that it's not his job to do.
In the previous versions of
Nosferatu, the Hardings, the family who take Ellen in while Thomas is away, have had virtually nothing to them, their role in the story being practically non-existent; that is most definitely not the case here, especially in regards to Friedrich Harding. First of all, I didn't even realize this was Aaron Taylor-Johnson during my first viewing, and given how I found him to be a rather dull lead in
Godzilla 2014, I must say he's come a long way since then. At the start of the movie, he portrays Friedrich as a cultured, sophisticated, wealthy man who has both a thriving business in shipbuilding and a happy, growing family whom he adores. Between that and a large, elegant home, he has everything that Thomas, his longtime friend, wishes for. Indeed, despite his telling Thomas that his responsibilities are crushing, and his twin girls are a handful, you can tell he's very content. Moreover, he tells him that he and his wife, Anna, are expecting another child, lovingly adding, as he looks in her direction, "I cannot resist her." And when his two girls become hysterical about there being a monster in their room, Friedrich, as he and Anna escort them upstairs, tells Thomas and Ellen, "Pardon us, but I am to hunt a monster." However, when Ellen falls under Count Orlok's influence, with her seizures and bouts of sleepwalking, it begins to severely disrupt Friedrich's home-life. In one scene, when she frets about not hearing from Thomas and about Herr Knock's disappearance, intending to go to the latter's office herself, Friedrich becomes agitated, as it's been advised that she not anywhere by herself. As he and Anna then walk off together, he makes his growing weariness with Ellen very clear: "The entirety of the household centers upon her whims. I tire of discussing her." While he puts up with her for Anna's sake, he doesn't want his wife to indulge too much in Ellen's "fairy ways," and says he would much rather focus on something else, like their unborn child. Unfortunately for him, just as he leans in to kiss Anna, Ellen has another episode, showing that this intrusion isn't going away. And when her episodes begin to come on every night, and he learns that Herr Knock has been institutionalized, Friedrich, wanting some end to this madness, asks, "Where the devil are you, Thomas?"
When Dr. Sievers first tells Friedrich of Prof. von Franz, and that he happens to be in Wisburg, he's ecstatic, hoping the professor will be able to grant him and his family salvation from Ellen's malady. However, his enthusiasm is dampened when Sievers informs him that von Franz was ousted from his university and exiled from his own country because of his interest in the occult. It doesn't help matters when they go to see von Franz at his home in Wisburg and he proves to be rather eccentric, completely
preoccupied with something else. And when von Franz, after talking with and examining Ellen, tells Friedrich, Anna, and Sievers that she is cursed and under the influence of an evil spirit or demon, Friedrich dismisses it as complete nonsense. Things only worsen when Thomas does return, as shortly after he's brought into the house, and Ellen and Anna see to him, Friedrich is informed of the arrival of the plague ship. He's taken to the site, sees the rats pouring out of the wreck, and, in the following days,
has to deal with the plague as it spreads throughout Wisburg. At von Franz's house again, listening to him talk about the evil that has befallen them, Friedrich is at his wit's end: "I have not slept in days. My house has become a bedlam. And here I've been re-summoned to this Godforsaken habitation for
this." He then tells Sievers, "Do not tell me that you believe in such... medieval devilry!" The next day, he finds Anna suffering from the plague, after she was attacked by rats as part of Orlok's wrath to make Ellen submit to him. Unable to take it any longer, especially
when Ellen tries to talk to him about Orlok, Friedrich demands that she and Thomas go back to their home. He tries to convince Ellen that he's doing this for their own good, telling her that he will pray for Thomas, but he also tells her that what's happened to Anna is no concern of hers. Finally, when Ellen flat-out asks him why he hates her, all of Friedrich's pent up resentment towards her comes out, combined with the period's sense of masculine superiority when he tells her to know her place. She throws it back at him but he refuses to argue with her further, saying, "I have
done everything in my power to be
kind to you in these long months!... Find the
dignity to display the respect to your caretaker." He then venomously says, "Hartmann will call you a coach... at
my expense, of course."
Later, when talking again with von Franz and Sievers, Friedrich appears to consider Ellen's warnings about Orlok and asks von Franz how the monster can be killed. But he then becomes incensed when the professor admits he doesn't know how to kill Nosferatu, angrily spewing, "All your fine lectures are mere regurgitations from bloody books!" And when von Franz talks about how a vampire must return to its grave before sunrise, Friedrich, laughing derisively, throws them both out of the house, writing
Ellen off as insane, that she should've been locked up years ago, and that Anna is suffering from the plague. He also declares that, despite the citywide quarantine, they're going to leave Wisburg, exclaiming, "I'm not going to let your vain madness kill my wife!" But Friedrich soon truly breaks, as Orlok kills both Anna and their twin daughters. At their funeral, he becomes enraged when he sees Ellen there with the others, demanding that she leave immediately, screaming, "Your diseased mind has brought all of this outrage!...
Your very presence... does me wrong!" However, when Thomas shows him the bite marks that Orlok left on his chest, Friedrich seems to realize that they were right. On the carriage ride home, despite being completely broken, he seems apt to join the others in finding Orlok's grave and destroying him, and apologizes for his actions. But, at sundown, he returns to his family's tomb, mad from grief and sick from the plague himself. And this is where Aaron Taylor-Johnson's acting shines the most. As he enters the tomb, he walks between his daughters' little coffins,
tearfully saying their names and intoning, "Oh, my girls." He then rests his head on Anna's coffin, deliriously talking to her, before opening it, picking up her body, and saying, "Let this, your tender embrace, keep me from everlasting sleep." He then kisses her, and when Thomas, von Franz, and Sievers arrive, he has already died, forcing them to burn their bodies to stop the plague from spreading farther.
Being Ellen's best friend, Anna Harding (Emma Corrin) is the one in the Harding household who's truly concerned for her. When Friedrich becomes frustrated with how Ellen's needs are starting to dominate their lives, Anna tells him, "Think you there is no burden upon myself? I love her. She is blameless for her malady." Despite this, you can tell she and Friedrich deeply love each other, and they look forward to the birth of their son. However, even before Ellen, or, as Anna calls her, "Leni," falls under Count Orlok's thrall, Anna is concerned about some of the things she says, like when the two of them are walking by the seaside one day and Ellen talks about being under the control of another being. Anna thinks she's referring to God, but Ellen goes on about something calling to her. Anna tries to assure that she simply speaks from her heart, but Ellen, in turn, says she's lost without Thomas. Once Orlok's influence becomes more pronounced, causing Ellen to experience the violent seizures and speak in a bizarre, inhuman voice, Anna, like Friedrich, is sure her condition simply has to do with her being upset over Thomas' absence. When Thomas returns and Ellen's own condition seems to improve as she works to nurse him back to health, Anna feels it proves she wasn't under attack by a demon, as Prof. von Franz said. And when Ellen insists that she's right, Anna asks her to stop talking about it, especially since Christmas is almost there and she doesn't want her daughters to be frightened. It turns out they already are: the night that Friendrich meets with Dr. Sievers and von Franz at the latter's home, Anna has to assure them that there's nothing to be afraid of. She then allows Ellen to sleep in with her, and as they lie in bed together, Anna tells her how much their friendship means to her. She also gives Ellen a crucifix that she was holding, assuring her that God is with them.
But, that night, Orlok, as part of his plan to force Ellen to submit to him, has Anna attacked by a group of plague rats. The next day, she's in bed, raving, "A shadow pressing. My body sinking. Sinking. The smell of rancid meat. Suffocating." She then laughs deliriously, telling Friedrich that their baby is, "So strong, so hungry, he is eating me weary." Turning to Ellen, she asks her, "What is this insufferable darkness?" Late that night, Anna awakens to the sound of the girls screaming in their bedroom and runs in there, arriving just in time to see Orlok finish killing them. She doesn't have much time to do much, aside from scream in horror at this, before he turns on her as well.
While they don't have much screentime, or much to them in general, I do feel genuine sympathy for Friedrich and Anna's daughters, Clara (Adela Hesova) and Louise (Milena Konstantinova). They're just a couple of innocent, cute little girls who, like most kids, are afraid of the dark, thinking there are monsters in their room. Both of their parents periodically assure them that there's nothing to be afraid of, but then, as part of his personal rampage against Ellen, Orlok proves them horribly wrong by appearing in the girls' room one night and attacking them. Just the sound of them screaming and crying in terror, as this real monster corners them, is horrific enough, but then, when Anna rushes in there, you see Orlok brutally drop one girl's limp body to the floor, while he finishes feeding on the other and drops her as well. It's an absolute gut-punch of an image, as these two young, innocent lives are cruelly snuffed out in front of their mother, who then falls victim to Orlok as well. And it makes Friedrich's grief afterward all the more palpable.
Ralph Ineson, who starred in The Witch, portrays the film's version of Dr. Seward, Dr. Sievers. He's the first one they call in to examine Ellen when she begins having her nighttime attacks, specifically the sleepwalking. He tries to treat her with conventional means of the time, feeling that the sleepwalking is caused by congestion of the blood, and has her sleep in her corset to try counteract it. He also gives her ether to keep her from raving all night long. At the same time, Herr Knock is admitted to Sievers' hospital, but has to be locked up in a cell because of his volatility. And when Sievers tries to speak with him, he gets attacked, with Knock having to be restrained. He tells Friedrich of this, as well as that, like Ellen, Knock also repeatedly said, "He is coming," and decides this far beyond his own field of expertise. Thus, he decides to call in Prof. von Franz, whom he was once a student of, but admits to Friedrich that he was initially reluctant to do so because of how the professor lost his job at his university in Zurich and left his own country because of his explorations of the occult. However, he tells Harding, "The professor may be a bit unconventional, but he will know the source of her malady." Sure enough, when Sievers and Friedrich go to see von Franz, he proves to be rather eccentric and seemingly unwilling to help. But Sievers knows how to approach and talk with him, and is able to get him to see and examine Ellen. Initially, he believes von Franz is not speaking literally when he says Ellen is under attack by a demon, and tries to come up with a rational explanation, including one taken from the professor's own research. However, as he spends more time as part of von Franz's inner-circle, he starts to believe that the professor may be right. He really starts to believe when the plague ship arrives and the disease blankets Wisburg within days, filling Sievers' hospital to bursting. In the end, he's part of the group that attempts to hunt down and destroy Count Orlok, but, like Thomas, he's shocked when he learns of von Franz's conspiring with Ellen so she could secretly destroy Orlok by sacrificing herself.
One thing that the story of
Nosferatu has never really had before is a proper Dr. Van Helsing stand-in. The original silent film had the similar character of Prof. Bulwer, who seemed like he was going to be significant in the plot, but, in the end, did nothing whatsoever, whereas the Herzog version actually had a character named Van Helsing, but his role in the story was, until the very end, like that of Dr. Sievers, i.e. Seward. Moreover, the latter movie's in-name only sequel,
Nosferatu in Venice, had Christopher Plummer in a traditional Van Helsing-like role, but he proved to be utterly ineffectual and ends up committing suicide before the third act. But here, we finally have a true counterpart to the famous occult expert and vampire hunter in Willem Dafoe's Prof. Albin Eberhart von Franz. First introduced over an hour in, von Franz is a brilliant but very eccentric old scientist who lost his job at the university in Zurich and has left Switzerland altogether. In fact, Dr. Sievers tells Friedrich Harding, "The scientific community is on a crusade to prove his work drove him to madness." When the two of them first show up at his home in Wisburg, von Franz is preoccupied with something else and demands they leave him alone. They come in anyway, and when Sievers speaks to him, von Franz, who's been muttering quietly, says, "I had nearly unlocked the final key of the Mysteriorum Libri Quinque." Sievers apologizes for his interference and the professor grumbles, "No. No matter. I miscalculated the stars. Hermes will not render my black sulfur gold this evening." Friedrich is then about ready to leave, but Sievers manages to finally make von Franz pay attention to him, and when he recognizes his old student, he's overjoyed. They embrace and he tells Sievers, "I sensed something. It brought me to Wisburg all these years ago. I felt it was now imminently approaching. I thought it ill, but it must have been
you." He then proves to have some second sight himself, as when he meets Friedrich, he knows that his problem lies with a young woman who's been going through bouts of sleepwalking.
Upon being brought in to meet Ellen, von Franz quickly takes control, demanding that she be untied from the bed and that she not be given any more drugs, as, "She cannot be clouded." He proves to have a very friendly and compassionate bedside manner when he speaks with her, gently asking her to recount her history of the strange episodes she experiences. He listens to her as she goes into detail about them, as well as when she tells him how she prayed for a companion. She also mentions that everything
stopped when she met Thomas, whom she now fears for, since the epilepsy, sleepwalking, and dreams have returned. Then, that night, von Franz witnesses one of these episodes firsthand, and recognizes when she enters a trance state that she is communicating with the other side. He tries to make her identify who she means when she says, "He is coming," and when she goes under possession, he tries to force the spirit to identify itself. Though he's unable to, witnessing this does prove his suspicion that she is cursed and under
the influence of a demonic force. He also explains to Friedrich, Anna, and Sievers that Ellen's openness to the other side is what allowed this to happen in the first place. He feels that's also the case with Knock, and thus heads out to do research in order to identify what this evil entity is. On his way out, he tells Sievers to no longer administer any ether, warning them all, "There is a dread storm rising." But it's when the ship carrying Orlok arrives in Wisburg that von Franz begins to truly understand what's happening. Sievers has him examine the body of one
of the crewmen, telling him that he exhibits all the signs of the plague, but has been completely drained of blood. He also points the professor towards some bite marks on the chest, and that's when you can see the realization hit von Franz. Upon hearing that Knock has escaped, he impresses that he must be found, adding, "This is no mere plague!" That night, he tries to explain to Sievers and the disbelieving Friedrich what they are dealing with, saying, "It is death itself." And when the latter doubts him, von
Franz exclaims, "I do not believe. I
know!
I have seen things in this world that would've made Isaac Newton crawl back into his mother's womb! We have not become so much enlightened as we have been blinded by the gaseous light of science! I have wrestled with the Devil, as Jacob wrestled the Angel in Peniel. And I tell you, if we are to tame darkness, we must first face that it exists!" He declares, "We are here encountering the undead plague carrier. The vampyr, Nosferatu."
Willem Dafoe has sort of become to Robert Eggers what Michael Caine, up until his retirement, was to Christopher Nolan, as he's, so far, appeared in every one of Eggers' films since
The Lighthouse. I can't say I blame him, though, since Dafoe is such an awesome actor, and he's definitely among the many highlights of
Nosferatu. Not only does he deliver this old-style English dialogue especially well, but he effortlessly makes von Franz both eccentric and authoritative, as well as an unbending force of good devoted to
wiping out evil. And while he's never had to face a vampire before, this resolve does come from experience, given that remark he makes about Isaac Newton, and when he tells Ellen, "
We must know evil to be able to destroy it. We must discover it within ourselves, and when we have, we must crucify the evil within us or there is no salvation." You can also tell he has great empathy, as well as admiration for Ellen and her abilities, telling her, "I am but an able tourist in this occult world. You were born to it. It is arare gift." Though he tends to go a little frantic and raves when Thomas and Sievers discover the pact that he and Ellen made and rush to stop her, at the end of the movie, when she has sacrificed herself and destroyed Orlok, von Franz does mourn her loss and asks for the grief-stricken Thomas' forgiveness. And finally, Dafoe manages to provide the film with much of its few instances of humor, such as in how utterly preoccupied von Franz is when Sievers and Friedrich first come to his home, and how, when he glances at Friedrich there, comments, "You look tired, young man." He then pops a cork on a bottle and offers, "Schnapps?" It's also funny how matter-of-fact he is in his methods and in others' reactions to them, like when he puts a large needle all the way through Ellen's arm when she's possessed, to which Friedrich exclaims, "Professor, I do protest!", only for von Franz to respond, "Restrain your protestation!" Then, afterward, he says, "As I feared," but doesn't elaborate. Friedrich impatiently goes, "Well?", and von Franz retorts, "Well, what, my boy? Cannot you see?" And when Friedrich derisively refers to Nosferatu as a "ghost," von Franz corrects him, "Oh, no, please. No! It is no mere ghost, for it can manifest physically, and with the most foul intent."The previous versions of
Nosferatu each had a very memorable take on the character of Renfield or, as in the original silent film and here, Herr Knock, and this version (Simon McBurney) is like a combination of both of them. Physically, he looks similar to Knock in the original, albeit less bizarre, and the same goes for his personality, which is, initially, something of a less manic take on Roland Topor's Renfield in the Werner Herzog film. When Thomas arrives late to work at the beginning, Knock can be heard laughing inside his office, and is not at all angry about his tardiness, saying it's "providential," adding, "When tidings of your recent nuptials reached my ears, I knew it was... providence. A new husband requires new wages." He then tells Thomas of the job to journey to Transylvania and meet with Count Orlok, adding, "
Secure this account, and you will secure your official position in the firm." Notably, Knock mentions that he already suggested Grunewald Manor to Orlok, rather than in previous versions, where he suggested that Thomas/Jonathan himself bring it up to the Count. It turns out to be one part of his much more significant role in this version, where, rather than just arranging for Orlok to come to Wisburg, he plays a part in enabling him to regain possession of Ellen. Also, in this film, you learn how Knock became Orlok's servant, as Prof. von Franz figures that, like Ellen, he's more sensitive to cosmic forces. In any case, the next time you see Knock, he's sitting on the floor of his office, butt-naked and surrounded by candles, muttering in another language, and drawing a symbol on his arm, a symbol that also happens to be drawn on the cover of the codex and the part of the floor where he's sitting. He then says, "Your lordship, it is entirely as you have demanded. He shall presently be in thy rule, and I shall attend thee here, near the object of thy contract!" Some time later, Knock disappears, sending his firm into chaos, and is then institutionalized in Sievers' hospital after he attacks three sheep at a market and eats them raw. When Sievers first visits him in his cell, he's already killed several pigeons, which he claims to be gifts from his master. He then picks up one that's still alive, petting it and even kissing it, and while he talks about his master, suddenly bites its head off and eats it.
Knock tells Sievers that Orlok is coming, gleefully explaining that the Count chose him specifically and, "I know what he covets." But then, his demeanor turns menacing, as it had already done right before he bit the pigeon's head off, as he next tells Sievers, "And he shall cast upon you curses, confusion, afflictions, rebukes. For you have forsaken me. And he shall reign over all of your empty corpses. Devourence." Suddenly, he shouts "devourence" again and attacks Sievers, with several orderlies
Orlok's influence over Ellen manifests itself in the form of her frightening dreams, her seizures, and even full-on possession, such as in the scene where Prof. von Franz tries to make the spirit tormenting her name itself. He briefly speaks through her, saying, "I shall persist to join you every night, first in sleep, then in your arms. Everything will be mixed with abomination, and you'll be knee-deep in blood. Everyone will cry. There will be none to bury the dead. You... are... promised to me!" As that statement
It's heavily suggested that Orlok was, in life, a Solomonar, a type of powerful wizard in Roman mythology. According to the nuns who rescue Thomas after he escapes the castle, he became a vampire after making a pact with the Devil, and while I prefer the more vague origin he had in the original
Nosferatu, that would explain the great power he has, such as creating the storm that the ship carrying him to Wisburg passes through. Like in the original, he is often very ethereal in nature, which you
see in the opening, as well as in what Thomas witnesses before he arrives at the castle, and how, in his first scene with Orlok, reality seems to gradually fall away. It's especially unsettling how far Orlok's reach extends, as he was able to first claim Ellen and establish their psychic link without even having to physically be there with her, and make Knock his servant in the same manner. This link with Ellen often manifests in her nightmares (which he also uses as a means to communicate with her), sleepwalking,
seizures, and instances of full-on possession, while Thomas, due to the influence Orlok gains over him, sometimes sees frightening of images of her as well. Orlok's shadow, which made for some iconic images in the original film, is made into a major extension of his power here, as he uses it to influence people, even when, logically, it shouldn't be able to reach them. An example is how his shadow falls over Thomas in his room and prompts him to open the door, revealing Orlok standing in the hall outside, or when, in one of the most amazing and iconic images from the film,
his hand's shadow stretches across Wisburg in order to make contact with Ellen at the Harding home. And, like in the original, when Ellen finally offers herself to him at the end, you see his shadow making its way through the house and then reaching her bedroom, where he then physically manifests. Finally, like before, he brings the plague with him, and it completely blankets Wisburg within days. However, in this instance, it feels more like it's here because that's what you've come to expect due to the past versions of
Nosferatu, rather than him being an actual embodiment of the plague, like in the original.
One of Robert Eggers' goals was to get away from the typical portrayals of vampires in film and base his version of Orlok more on very early accounts and folklore. For instance, instead of biting his victims in the neck, he mainly bites and feeds on them from right above the heart (the sound of him loudly sucking as he does is hideous, by the way). And while another vampire is briefly glimpsed in the scene where the gypsies perform their ritual, then open his coffin and impale his heart, it's never explained if this was
someone who fell victim to Orlok and became a vampire because of it. Like in the original film, he's more interested in just spreading death and disease than creating others of his kind, and those that he feeds on either become ill and eventually die, or are killed immediately. He also never becomes a bat, but he does have sway over creatures like rats and wolves, the latter of which he uses to try to kill Thomas. And he most definitely has hypnotic influence over others, particularly those he's cursed.
As for repelling a vampire, those at the inn in Transylvania are seen using garlic as a means to do so, but whether anything holy would affect Orlok is never made clear. While iron spikes and rods are used rather than anything wooden, impaling a vampire is shown to be a way to destroy one, though it's suggested Orlok himself may be too powerful for that. Still, despite Eggers' intent on getting away from cinematic tropes, the classic one of a vampire needing to rest in the earth it was buried in during the daytime or it will be destroyed by sunlight, likely because
that's the way it's been before, is how Orlok is destroyed. However, instead of disappearing or bursting into flames, it causes him to violently hemorrhage and bleed out from his mouth, eyes, and other orifices, then drop dead, seemingly even more shriveled and skeletal than he already was.
The original design for Count Orlok is so iconic that I was quite surprised to learn Eggers and company decided to go in a mostly different direction for this film. Rather, his intent was for Orlok to resemble an undead Transylvanian nobleman, wearing authentic 16th Century Hungarian clothing, such as a dolman military shirt, a fur coat, and, in the first scene between him and Thomas at the castle, a kolpak hat. While the actual makeup design, by David White, does retain some familiar elements, like the long,
clawed fingernails, the shape of the head, and the baldness (for the most part), you don't have the pointy ears or rat-like fangs; instead, you prominently have this big, thick mustache, which I know has since become quite the subject of ridicule. I'll admit, even though I knew about it beforehand, I was taken aback when I first saw it. However, I've grown to accept and even kind of like it, feeling it gives this version of Orlok his own distinct look and feel. In fact, it makes him look very much like Vlad the Impaler, which I really like. The same goes for the rest of his design,
which does look and feel like a living corpse, with a shriveled, gray look to the skin, many spots with bones poking up through it, and ugly wounds here and there, like on the back of his head. That said, he is still fairly robust and hulking, and in the scene where Thomas tries to stake him while he's sleeping naked in his coffin, you see that Orlok is still very much "swaying in the wind." (Nicholas Hoult is said to have kept and even framed the fake penis that Skarsgard wore there.)
Right from the start with
The Witch, Eggers proved himself to be a visually dynamic filmmaker, and with every successive movie, he's continued to evolve and stretch himself further in that regard. Along with
Bram Stoker's Dracula,
Nosferatu is one of the most visually-accomplished vampire movies ever made. Instead of digital, it was shot on 35mm film, giving it a nice, classic feel that fits with its setting and overall aesthetic; moreover, the various production company logos at the start of the movie are patterned to look the way they would have in a
silent movie, and the font style for the subtitles and ending credits also give off that vibe. The film has an overall desaturated look to it, with three main variations: gray and bluish white for the daytime scenes, brown and amber for dimly lit nighttime interiors and torchlit exteriors, and dark blues and blacks for the nighttime exteriors and dark interiors, with plenty of shadows to give a feel akin to that of the original's German Expressionism style. No matter what time of day it is, there's usually a depressing
mood about it, likely due to its being set in winter, with the daytime scenes always gray and overcast, and then the addition of snow during the section in Transylvania and the last quarter in Wisburg. Really, the only time you see actual sunlight is at the very end, when it rises and destroys Orlok, and it remains during the final moments, no doubt reflecting how the evil has been destroyed. In regards to the camerawork and scene composition, Eggers has several clear, often reused blocking styles for the actors: one or
two people standing in a shaft of light coming through a window, one or two people framed in the foreground while others either stand or roam in the background, and big close-ups on their faces, with them looking right at the camera.
There's also not a lot of cutting, as Eggers tends to let scenes play out in one or two long takes, as the camera moves around, revealing other characters or following them as it needs to. A prime example is when Thomas arrives at the small hamlet in Transylvania, with the camera starting on him at the gate, as his horse is taken away, then panning with him as he walks through, deals with some gypsy women and children who accost him for money, and coming around to reveal more gypsies playing music and dancing in front of him. It continues panning
around, back to Thomas' front, as he walks among the gypsies, then circles around to the front of the inn, as this one gypsy dances parallel to it, and this woman who's also dancing there dips down out of its way, before zooming in on the one gypsy who's standing on the inn's porch. Another is how, when Prof. von Franz first witnesses one of Ellen's spells, much of it is done in one long shot, starting with the establishing wide shot of everyone at her bedside, during which von Franz pushes the needle through her arm, before
the camera goes in close when Ellen begins speaking and von Franz demands to know what she's talking about, only to pull back when she violently arches her body. It pans to the left as von Franz attempts to make the spirit possessing Ellen identify itself, coming around to the foot of her bed and going in close on her, with her face looking right at it when Orlok speaks through her. An interesting bit of camerawork involves Herr Knock when he escapes the hospital. As he lies on the floor while strapped to the chair, the
camera zooms in on his face, but when he grabs hold of the orderly, it rotates itself to where his face is now rightside up, and stays that way as he bites into the guy's neck. Even the ending, where Orlok, as he feeds on Ellen, realizes the sun has risen, and is destroyed by it, dying with Ellen, is shot in this manner, as are the final moments when Thomas is utterly devastated, and von Franz pays his final respects to Ellen.
Going back to Knock, one thing notable about him is how he doesn't get a clear close-up in his first scene, where he's at his most normal. Instead, he's always far away from the camera, and when his face is close to it, it's obscured by the contrast created by the light coming through the window behind him. Another skilled use of lighting is when Thomas, after finding Orlok sleeping in his coffin, attempts to impale him, but we can see the sunlight on the wall behind Thomas quickly disappearing, signaling that Orlok is going to awaken at any point. Later, when the ship's
captain goes down into the hold to destroy Orlok's crate, the scene is lit only by his lantern and the occasional flashes of lightning. During one flash, you can see Orlok move right behind the captain, obscured some objects hanging from the ceiling, seconds before he attacks. And when Anna comes out of her daughters' room late in the film, the only light is from her candle, and her large shadow behind her appears to move in an unnatural manner, making Ellen's sudden appearance to her right even more
startling. All of this is not to say that editing isn't employed effectively, as it is used to cut to sudden, shocking images, like that first glimpse of Orlok at the beginning, or nightmarish images of Ellen, and the film was probably sped up in certain instances to make Ellen's movements when he possesses her all the more uncanny.
In a manner similar to what Francis Ford Coppola did with
Bram Stoker's Dracula, Eggers often uses various cinematic techniques to create the feeling that Orlok's mere presence and influence causes reality and the laws of physics to fall away, making everything feel dream-like. He does this right from the opening, with the first image of Ellen praying in the darkness, the sound of Orlok calling to her, his silhouette appearing in her billowing window curtains, as she slightly levitates above the floor, and his sudden appearance and initial possession of her.
After that, it initially feels fairly normal, but grows more and more unreal as it goes on, notably when Thomas arrives in Transylvania. The scene he stumbles upon that night, with the gypsies staking the other vampire in his grave, bringing with them a naked woman on horseback as part of their ritual, looks like something out of a nightmare, and after Thomas yells in horror at the sight of it, with the one gypsy looking at him menacingly, it cuts to him back in bed, suggesting it actually was a dream... until it's
revealed he has fresh mud on his shoes. Then, the following night, in the middle of the dark, snowy forest near Castle Orlok, the driverless carriage arrives to pick him up, and when he walks into it, approaching the camera as he does, he suddenly appears to go from walking to floating, as if an invisible force is literally pulling him in. As he's driven to the castle, the camera moves in on his exhausted and apprehensive face, then pans up to the top as he appears on the verge of passing out,
transitioning to the carriage heading towards the castle's main gate. It zooms in on the gate, and promptly goes to a close-up of Thomas' eyes as they open... and he finds himself standing in front of the main gate, with no sign of the carriage or any indication as to how he got there.
Once Thomas meets Orlok and follows him into the castle, things really become otherworldly. Orlok suddenly disappears when Thomas follows him up the winding staircase, only to now be standing in the center of the dining room, and seems to teleport from Thomas' right side to the other when he offers him some wine. After he cuts himself, Orlok suggests that he come sit by the fireplace, and Thomas suddenly finds himself sitting in a chair there, while a statue standing by the fire appears to turn its head and look
look at him! Orlok menacingly approaches him, as Thomas is scared out of the mind, but then, it briefly cuts back to Wisburg. When it returns to the castle, it reveals Thomas awakening on the dining room floor. Following his second meeting with Orlok, where he unknowingly signs Ellen over to him, Thomas, again, suddenly wakes up in his bedroom, and while trying to find a way out of the castle, stumbles into the crypt. Upon finding Orlok sleeping in his coffin, and failing to spear him through the heart, Thomas retreats back to his room, but is then forced to allow Orlok to enter
his room and feed on him. That whole scene especially feels like a nightmare, with Orlok cornering, grabbing, and then feeding on Thomas on the floor, all while Ellen begins to feel his influence, as she sleepwalks throughout the Harding home and heads down to the river, followed by sudden, horrific images of her face. And this otherworldly feeling only increases when Orlok arrives in Wisburg during the second half and spreads his influence farther in order to make Ellen his. Despite how similar it is to the
Coppola movie, I much prefer Eggers' approach here. I can't say it's because he doesn't go as over-the-top with it as Coppola did, because this is also quite stylized and ethereal in its execution. But I think the reason is because I find Eggers' approach with it to be truly scary and frightening, whereas Coppola felt like he was just trying to be weird and experimental for the sake of it. Plus, I don't find this film hard to follow.
Like I said in the introduction, and as you've already seen for yourself by this point, this movie is a complete visual tour de force, with numerous images that you're unlikely to forget, such as the fairy tale-like shots of Thomas standing in the middle of the dark forest before the carriage arrives and the wide ones of it taking him to Castle Orlok, the eerie visuals of Orlok in the distance and in silhouette, his hand's shadow stretching across Wisburg, his plague ravaging the town, Ellen opening her bedroom
bedroom window and holding out her arms to call to him, and his shadow moving through her house, among so many others. However, as I also said there, that's also one of my few issues with it. Throughout this two-hour plus film, you're hit with one visually dynamic scene and image after another, and it gets to the point where your eyes and brain start to feel overwhelmed. I know when I first watched it, there were times where I wished Eggers would pull in the reins a little. I guess that's another compliment in a way but, still, it's like, "Dude, not every single shot here has to be a work of art you could hang on your wall."
When talking about Willem Dafoe's performance as Prof. von Franz, I referred to him as one of the few sources of levity here, as overall, this is a mercilessly dark, melancholic, and ultimately tragic story. From the first frame, with Ellen tearfully praying for a companion, there's a sense of hopelessness and unease about it, and even at the story's actual beginning, with Thomas departing for work from their home in Wisburg, Ellen's fretting about him, and her overwhelming feeling that he will soon leave her, lets us know that things aren't as ordinary and typical
as they may seem. That feeling becomes more overt when it begins pouring rain and thundering the minute Thomas accepts his assignment and is told Orlok's name. He brings Ellen back some flowers when he tells her of what he has to do, only for her to angrily mourn that they will now die, and tells him of the dream she had, portending her eventual betrothal to Orlok. Things only grow ever darker as we see what Knock is up to, Thomas depart for and arrive in Transylvania, meet Orlok and fall prey to him, and
the Count regain his influence over Ellen. During his travel to Wisburg via the ship, his plague spreads throughout it and kills nearly everyone onboard, and once he kills the captain, the ship arrives and crashes into the harbor, with the rats spilling out and infesting the town. Even more so than in previous versions, we see the nightmare that the plague unleashes upon Wisburg, with so many people dead or dying, the hospital nearly bursting at the seams with patients, and the whole town eventually being placed under quarantine.
By the time we roll into the climax, the tone is one of nothing but despair, with Friedrich losing his family, then going to their crypt and dying there of both the plague and a broken heart, while Prof. von Franz leads both Thomas and Dr. Sievers to Grunewald Manor, the latter two unaware that he's doing so in order to allow Ellen the time she needs to do what she must. We watch her willingly give herself to Orlok and let him feed on her until sunrise, where the two of them die together. Thomas, having learned of this plot, rushes home, but finds he's too late. Closing
Ellen's eyes with his fingers and holding her hand, he mournfully sobs beside the bed where he and Ellen once slept, but has now become her grave. Von Franz arrives, along with Sievers, and, patting Thomas on the shoulder, sadly says, "Forgive us," then places lilacs on Ellen and Orlok's corpses, reciting, "
And lo, the maiden fair did offer up her love unto the beast, and with him lay in close embrace until the first cock crow. Her willing sacrifice thus broke the curse and freed them from the plague of Nosferatu." Followinga shot where von Franz looks out the window, standing in the morning sunlight, holding and petting Greta, Ellen's cat, while his face reflected in a mirror over to the left, the very last image is of Ellen and Orlok lying dead together.
While there was location shooting, done mostly in the Czech Republic, much of the movie was filmed at Prague's Barrandov Studios. As lovely as the former is, all of the sets and backlot work by Eggers' regular production designer Craig Lathrop are absolutely superb in their authenticity and detail. In the case of the fictional Wisburg, many of the various settings here also notably start off as perfectly benign but grow sinister as the movie goes on. The overall town itself comes off as a fairly big, bustling port city in 19th Century Germany at the beginning, but once
Orlok arrives and brings his plague with him, you see how the disease wreaks havoc upon it, with rats running through the streets, dead and dying people littering them, with some set aflame, and others who seem to have been driven mad by it all. The best example of this is Dr. Sievers' hospital, which is filled to the max with those infected with the plague, to the point where they can't admit any more patients. This same dynamic also exists within the nature of the hospital itself, with the more "modern," sophisticated facilities up top, and the old, prison'like holding cells
down below, where Knock is kept when he's admitted. Speaking of Knock, he definitely makes the most of this place, as he draws Solomonar symbols on the wall, and also litters the floor with the remains of pigeons he's eaten. And while the interiors of his real estate agency are initially very formal, proper, and dignified, including his own office, the scene where he performs his little ritual and tells Orlok that everything has been set in motion makes it truly sinister, unsettling, and unclean, with the low candle
lighting and the symbol he's drawn on the floor in the spot where the desk usually is (not to mention him being completely naked). Late in the film, when Sievers and Prof. von Franz search the office, they find more evidence of Knock's dealing with the occult, such as the large, leather-bound book and, hidden in a cabinet behind the desk, a skull and other bones. Due to the overcast skies and the mist, as well as the old graves there, even the lovely seaside sand dunes take on a more sinister feel, especially in the scene where Ellen frets about Knock and later has one of her seizures.
Ellen and Thomas live in a somewhat modest but fairly nice and comfortable home, one that she's perfectly content to continue living in, despite Thomas' ambitions. As I said, it's clear that he would much rather have a life akin to that of the Hardings, who live in their very opulent home, with a butler, a big drawing room containing a fireplace and pool table, lovely bedrooms, and is decorated for the upcoming Christmas holiday. However, both homes also become invaded by evil later in the movie, mostly the Harding home, due to Orlok's influence
taking hold of Ellen during her stay, and when Orlok himself appears there, causing Anna's death and brutally killing Clara and Louise in their bedroom. Meanwhile, the Hutter home, specifically Ellen and Thomas' bedroom, is significantly the site of the movie's finale, where Ellen sacrifices herself. In major contrast to both of these homes, Prof. von Franz lives in a small dwelling in the poorer section of town, one that's fairly claustrophobic and cluttered, as well as filled with cats, which he has an affinity
for. Grunewald Manor, the old, rundown mansion that becomes Orlok's lair in Wisburg, is very reminiscent of his castle, as it's not only an old ruin but also barren on the inside, with very little furniture. We don't see much of the interior, but the most significant spot is this large, rat-filled chamber where Orlok's coffin lies, and where Thomas accidentally stakes Knock instead. Finally, we do get some scenes at the local cemetery, such as the funeral for Anna, Clara,
and Louise, and when Friedrich goes into his family's tomb and dies there, alongside Anna's corpse, scenes whose sad tone are magnified by the snow and the approach of a dark, early winter sunset.
Transylvania is depicted as mostly wild and undeveloped, with one of the few other settings there aside from Castle Orlok being the small settlement that Thomas comes across and where he spends the night. It really is just a little tiny bit of human habitation in the middle of the cold, snowy wilderness, consisting of a few small cottages and a primitive, almost medieval-looking, inn, the interior of which you can barely make out due to the bright glow from the fireplace. The next day, following everyone's unexplained disappearance, including that
of his horse, Thomas has to continue on to the castle on foot and passes through an old cemetery on a hill, before reaching the crossroads in the middle of the forest that night. The place just look eerie, like something out of a Grimms' fairy tale, but he's then transported by the driverless carriage through a pathway snaking through the mountains, to the castle, which makes everything he's already experienced seem feeble by comparison.
Very fittingly, the exteriors of Castle Orlok were actually those of Corvin Castle in Transylvania, which, as I said back in my review of
Fright Night 2: New Blood, is where Vlad the Impaler is said to have been imprisoned. Like everything else about Orlok, his castle is very imposing and frightening on the outside, and when Thomas first enters the main gate, with a pair of doorways that have that familiar arched shape to them, we get our first look at the Count as he stands in the interior courtyard in the distance. Upon first entering the castle, Thomas is led up a flight of
winding stairs to the large dining room, which is actually a mostly empty chamber, consisting of a big table and a fireplace between two rows of pillars. When he awakens in there the next day, he not only finds the place empty, with no sign of either Orlok or his supposed servants, but that's when it becomes clear how utterly unkempt and barren the place is, with little furniture and an overall ancient, crumbling feel to it (again, the art direction is top notch, making this truly feel like a centuries-old ruin). And it feels just as creepy during the day as it does at night,
precisely because of how empty and quiet it is, with the only sound being that of the wind outside. Even Thomas' bedroom, which does have a big, comfortable-looking, canopy bed, as well as a chair, a small mirror, and some windows, feels more like a prison cell than anything else, and it's from here that he climbs onto the castle's exterior ledge and then down into the river below when he's attacked by Orlok's wolves. Finally, while attempting to escape the castle following his second night there, he finds
his way down into the crypt, filled with numerous stone coffins, as well as Orlok's own sarcophagus. (Funnily enough, this crypt is not closed off completely from the sun, which makes you wonder just how brightly lit it becomes in the middle of the day.)
It's only in the opening, but the mansion where Ellen grew up is kind of similar to Castle Orlok in that, while not rundown or crumbling, it's another large, dark building that looks as though it could be haunted. Indeed, that shot of its exterior, with it juxtaposed up against the cloudy night sky, and the main path running between some hedges out in front, with conifer trees on either side of them, is a classic haunted house type of image. Similarly, even though it's said to be a refuge, as Orlok would be unable to enter it, the interiors of the convent for the Eastern
Orthodox nuns who rescue Thomas after he escapes the castle also doesn't look or feel as comforting as you might think, as the low lighting and the size of the chamber where he awakens is reminiscent of the castle's own dining room. Finally, while this part of the story doesn't get much focus, the sets depicting the main deck of the ship that brings Orlok to Wisburg, as well as the interiors, such as the captain's quarters and the cargo hold where the coffin is kept, are also very well designed. The latter is effectively
made to feel really claustrophobic and uncomfortable in the scene where, after nearly everyone else has died from the plague, the captain goes down into it, thanks to the low lighting and the rain pouring in from outside.
One thing I've come to appreciate about Robert Eggers is his attention to detail and how period accurate he makes his films. I know some have a problem with the latter in regards to the old style type of dialogue and vernacular that the characters say, but, while it, admittedly, can be hard to know what they're talking about sometimes, I've never had that much of an issue with it, probably because I had to read so much stuff written in that same style when I was in high school. Plus, I feel it makes it easier to believe that we are back in that time period. But, as
accurate as the dialogue may be, let's be truthful: if Eggers wanted to be 100% accurate, much of the cast would be speaking German. I'll even go one further and say that, when you think about it, the fact that many of the characters in the Transylvania section speak Romanian, the crew of the ship Russian, and Count Orlok often in Dacian, with subtitles for each, can make it all the more distracting that the inhabitants of the supposedly German town of Wisburg are speaking English. Most egregiously, the
plaque on the exterior of Herr Knock's real estate firm is written in German, with subtitles translating it; honestly, if you're going to go that far, then you might as well have the characters actually speak the language. Obviously, it was unlikely the studio would've gone for that, knowing it wouldn't appeal to most mainstream audiences, and many, if not all, of the main actors could probably speak German, for that matter. But I think it might've suited Eggers better to either push for that or, at least, set the movie in England, like the original story of Dracula, where the dialect would fit much better.
But that's just a minor nitpick. Instead, one of my few other major issues with the film is that it does feel more than a little drawn out. As I said before, since this is the film he'd wanted to make from the beginning, you can tell Eggers was really indulging himself, not only in bringing his own personal touches, but also in greatly expanding upon the original film's characters and story. I can respect that, as that's what Peter Jackson did when he made his version of
King Kong, which is a three-hour movie that I love. But, with
Nosferatu clocking in at 132
minutes, it starts to feel like Eggers is really going overboard. I don't think it drags the way the original does during the third act, and its narrative is more focused and the characters far more developed, but all of those elaborately-filmed scenes and visuals, as amazing as they are, not only become excessive but tend to bog down the pacing. Again, you may wish that Eggers would stop loitering and move along, especially in the lead-up to Orlok arriving in Wisburg. (Ironically, while Werner Herzog is also known for his striking visuals, as well as for refusing to shoot at a studio, the pacing wasn't an issue I had with his
Nosferatu, even though it is much slower than either this or the original.)
In addition to the reality-bending nature of the vampire, another similarity between Eggers'
Nosferatu and
Bram Stoker's Dracula is that the story's sexual undertones are brought to the forefront. Though you can't tell from the angle, Orlok is nude when he first appears and takes possession of Ellen, and you later learn that their resulting relationship was very much a sexual one, as he talks about how his passion is linked to her, and tries to remind her of how they were together. Furthermore, it's all but flat-out said that he represents her more
decadent, repressed side, and Ellen tells Thomas that she initially enjoyed her time with Orlok, adding, "He
is my shame! He is my melancholy!" There's also the dichotomy here of Thomas representing pure love, as opposed to the lust and overwhelming carnal pleasure that Orlok signifies, and Ellen fears that without Thomas, she will be damned. This is put to the test when, after she criticizes Thomas for being so focused on furthering his career and gaining a wealth that she didn't require in order to be happy, she falls
under Orlok's influence, rips the top of her dress, then clings to Thomas' leg, acting all subservient, before suddenly taking on a sexual attitude and saying that he could never satisfy her the way Orlok could. That leads to the two of them having very rough, troubled sex, during which she exclaims, "
Yes! Take me! Please. Please! Yes!... Kiss me. Kiss my heart. My heart... Let him see! Let him see our love!" And sexuality in and of itself is the very key to the ending, where Ellen willingly gives herself over to Orlok, and the two of them die in bed together after the sun has risen.
The movie's sexual preoccupations are also expressed in other ways, some of which are surprising and others downright disturbing. The most blatant is the sheer amount of full-on nudity, which is
never titillating, even when it's in the form of the hot, young gypsy girl on horseback in that one scene. In fact, most of it is male. Early on, we see Herr Knock sitting nude on his office floor, as he performs a sort of ritual while telling Orlok that Thomas is on his way to him, and he's also apparently nude when he's speared in the coffin near the end; the vampire that's
speared by the gypsies also appears to be nude; and when Thomas finds Orlok sleeping in his coffin, the Count, after foiling his attempt to spear him, stands up and we can see very clearly that being undead hasn't deprived him of his manhood. In fact, it's disturbing just how often you see Orlok naked, as he rests in his coffin nude, appears to kill the ship's captain in the nude, and both he and Ellen die together nude. He's also nude when he feeds on Thomas shortly after the attempted impaling, bringing about far more homosexual overtones than when
Dracula fed upon Jonathan Harker, both in the book and any film adaptation, or Renfield in the original Bela Lugosi film. And while his biting someone over their heart may be more in line with traditional vampire myths, it also brings about sexual connotations when he does so over Ellen's breast. Going back to the topic of homosexuality, there's more than a touch of lesbianism between Ellen and Anna. While their closeness and Anna's insistence that she loves Ellen could be seen as just the two of
them being very good friends, that scene where Anna allows Ellen to sleep in her bed, tells her how much their friendship means to her, and kisses her on the forehead, while Ellen, in turn, says, "Thank you for loving me," suggests it's possibly something more.
While the film doesn't make a blatant statement about it, the sexual politics of the era are most definitely present. The suppression of women is obvious, not only from how Orlok treats Ellen as an object that she naively promised to him and feels he owns, but also in how Thomas initially dismisses her concerns, intent on furthering his place in Knock's firm and telling her not to say them aloud, and how Friedrich just plain looks down on Ellen in general. While both of those dynamics do come to a head, the crux of the whole matter becomes most pointed in that
confrontation between Ellen and Friedrich when the latter asks that she and Thoma go back to their home. When Ellen demands to know why Friedrich doesn't like her, he becomes indignant in his male superiority, growling at her, "How
dare you speak to me in that marked manner?... Know your place, Madam!" Then, after he tells her that Hartmann will call a coach for her and Thomas, adds, "For your husband's sake, I pray you learn to conduct yourself with more deference." In addition, there's not only the then expected social standards of women not working,
but, as much as Friedrich does genuinely love Anna, in his first scene, when he tells Thomas that they're expecting another child, there is a pretty vulgar display of male sexual prowess, as Thomas comments, "You always were a rutting goat," and Friedrich makes horns with his fingers and growls while acting as though he's charging. Also, Ellen's story about how her father became frightened of her clairvoyance, to the point where he begin calling it sinful, speaks to how women were expected to act in
a certain way, and the period's sexual repression could be why she initially enjoyed being with Orlok. All of this subtext is deconstructed completely by the ending, where Ellen willingly gives herself to Orlok in order to destroy him, while her husband, who believes he is the one fated to destroy the vampire and save his wife and Wisburg, is led on a wild goose chase so she can do her duty.
While Werner Herzog's approach to
Nosferatu included emulating the original silent film's lack of onscreen violence and bloodshed, that most definitely isn't the direction Eggers takes. While the amount of gore here isn't on the extreme level of other vampire films of the time, like
Renfield or
Abigail, this is definitely the most gruesome take on this particular story. It doesn't wait long to get to it either, as early on, you have the initial vampire whom the gypsies impale in his grave. In fact, not only does he nastily vomit up blood as a
result, but he looks so shriveled and decayed that it's hard to tell if he's an actor or an articulated puppet. From there, you have gruesome sights like Herr Knock biting off and chewing the head of the one pigeon, with its stump spurting blood; the ship's captain having his neck bitten into, with blood gushing out, and Knock doing the same to the one orderly before he escapes the hospital; the horrific sight of Anna being fed upon by numerous rats; Orlok brutally killing Clara and Louise; Knock getting impaled, with blood gushing out of his mouth and
wound; and Orlok's bloody demise from being exposed to the sun. In addition, you have the bite marks he leaves on his victims' bodies, and the grisly effects of his plague, which ranges from people vomiting up blood and diseased lesions on their flesh, to dead bodies being examined by the doctors and burned in the streets. Speaking of the plague, they used hundreds of real rats in many of those scenes, and also had specially-made mats that looked like a dozen rats clumped together, which they would let
the real ones crawl along in order to give the feeling of there being more. And while they didn't get much use, real wolves were used in the scene where they chase Thomas' carriage and when they attack him in the daytime after Orlok has fed upon him.
Visual effects are used here quite extensively, but rarely in a blatant manner. For the most part, they were used to extend the backlots and the landscapes to make them look more expansive, such as in the shots of the Wisburg skyline (most notably in the scenes where Knock and, later, the vampire hunters take a boat down the canal; the only thing real there are the actors and the boats), the scenes down by the seaside, and the fantastical shots of the Transylvanian forests, the mountains around Castle Orlok, and the countryside around the nuns' convent when Thomas
departs. Digital work was also used to more seamlessly combine various elements, like the real pigeon and the fake one whose head Knock bites off, and the real wolves and horses in that shot with the wolves chasing the carriage (so they wouldn't attack the horses). The effects artists also put in some digital rats in some scenes, and added more blood to Orlok's death scene. The only obvious example of visual effects, really, is that shot of the shadow of Orlok's hand traveling along the Wisburg rooftops, and that looks amazing regardless.
As he had done for The Northman and would later do for Werwulf, English musician Robin Carolan was behind the score for Nosferatu. His music is yet another truly superb aspect of the film, as it's wonderfully old-fashioned and Gothic, often conveying the somber tone and feeling of impending doom you feel throughout it. The latter is particularly personified through this uneasy-sounding string piece that first plays when Thomas rushes off to his office, hinting that this scene of typical, 19th Century life will soon be turned upside down. Carolan and his orchestra also come up with a low, menacing theme for Count Orlok, and some eerie, ethereal music for its more dream-like moments. They especially excel in making the more horrific scenes, like when Ellen falls under Orlok's thrall and when he attacks Thomas in his room, come off as truly nightmarish, often with just a flurry of frightening sounds. However, the score also effectively tugs at your heartstrings, highlighting the somber and downright tragic aspects of the story, like when Friedrich loses his family. This side is best personified in this sad string theme that you first hear when Thomas heads off for Transylvania, alluding to how this act will come to destroy the life that he and Ellen could've had together, and it comes back in full force at the very end, really making you feel the tragedy of Ellen's sacrifice and how now Thomas is the one who has lost everything.
While the original cut of the film shown at test screenings was three hours long, when it was released on home media, it came with an "extended" version that's only four minutes longer than the theatrical. Rather than consisting of more explicit violence or sexual content, it's just more instances of dialogue, mostly from Prof. von Franz. The first, however, is an extension of Thomas' initial talk with Orlok, when he mentions the ritual he witnessed the previous night. In this scene, Orlok explains, "Yesternight was but the eve of their Szent to András. Our common people say it is the
darkest witching night, when devil's magic bids the wolf to speak with tongues of men. And every nightmare treads upon this Earth, ascended from the torturous grave." He then lets out a very unsettling laugh, before the scene continues on as it does in the theatrical version. Later, following the scene where von Franz first witnesses Ellen's possession and tells Friedrich and Anna that demons are drawn to people like her, he elaborates, "They can discover their victims from across mountains, great oceans." And when Sievers asks what he means when he describes Ellen as
possessing "lower animal functions," von Franz clarifies, "Yes. Hysterics, children, lunatics. Eh, which reminds me, Sievers, you must introduce me to your madman tomorrow... Somnambulists afflicted with these perversions often possess a gift: a second sight into the borderland." Staying with von Franz, he's later seen examining a leech while discussing the plague's origin with Sievers and Friedrich, specifically an account that reads, "A plague ravaged the countryside. The alleged cause: a walking corpse that maintained some semblance of life by feeding on
the heart blood of the living. Every victim succumbed to death." One last extra moment with the professor is an extension of the scene where Friedrich grows derisive of his claims about Nosferatu, with him yelling, "Jesus Christ in heaven! This isn't a satanic magician! Or any other humiliating fantasy! It's no wonder you're a laughingstock." And finally, in the lead-up to his murdering Anna and the girls, Orlok can be heard warning Ellen, as his shadows passes over her, that the following night will mean death for Thomas if she doesn't submit to him. All in all, there was really no point to this alternate version, especially since there are other deleted scenes in the special features.
So, is Robert Eggers'
Nosferatu truly my personal favorite version? I know that was a bold statement I made in the introduction but, I think I may stick to it. Sure, it is may be a bit too long, weighed down by Eggers' predilection for making nearly every shot and scene as amazing as possible, and said approach can get overwhelming and exhausting, but, as much as I respect the original silent film and the Werner Herzog version, I think this is the richest and more affecting take on this story. It has an exceptional cast in some very well-written roles, with special mention going to Lily-Rose Depp, Willem Dafoe, and especially Bill Skarsgard, who plays a truly menacing and disturbing version of Count Orlok; it's an absolute smorgasbord of incredible visuals, first-rate cinematography, and inspired direction; excellent, Gothic sets, both on sound-stages and a backlot, and location work; a truly dark, dread-filled atmosphere; many unsettling visuals and scenes; some nice subtext if you care to look for it, a good amount of gory, gruesome images; a skilled use of visual effects; a depiction of vampires that's anything but typical, and doesn't skimp on the sexuality; an excellent music score; and, above all else, an engaging story that ends on an effectively tragic note. It's definitely not for everyone, especially those who aren't into the old-fashioned approach to vampires, but for those like me who love the Gothic style, you really can't do better than this.
No comments:
Post a Comment