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In ‘Nosferatu’, director and screenwriter Robert Eggers delves into a new interpretation of the story inspired by Bram Stoker's ‘Dracula’.
In the unauthorised 1922 film, German director Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau transformed Dracula into Count Orlok and made significant changes to the characters, such as turning Mina Harker into Ellen Hutter and Jonathan Harker into Thomas Hutter.
Although these changes were made to avoid copyright issues, Murnau's work established a parallel strand in the vampire myth, characterised by his unique visual style and narrative, which has been explored with interest ever since.
Eggers' “Nosferatu”, with a running time of 2 hours and 12 minutes, revisits some of the names from Murnau's original and draws on the film industry to expand the story in new directions that reflect his dark vision.
This is one of the film's great victories: to surprise the viewer with a story they thought they knew.
Bill Skarsgård's portrayal of Orlok is striking, presenting him as a shadowy and powerful force who speaks in the ancient language of the Dacians, the people who inhabited what is now Romania.
Eggers, known for his meticulous attention to detail, reconstructs the universe of Nosferatu with historical rigour and a palpable cinematic sensibility.
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The textures, from the weathered wood to the shadows creeping across the walls, reveal his obsession with authenticity in fiction.
By filming in locations that evoke a gothic Europe, Eggers succeeds in creating a liminal space that connects expressionist cinema with visual modernity.
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Count Orlok, played by Skarsgård, moves between the grotesque and the tragic, representing not only the archetypal monster, but also human alienation.
Eggers delves into Orlok's psychology, offering an intimate and epic narrative that turns him into a shadow that haunts the collective consciousness, symbolising fears of the unknown.
However, the direction of the actors is uneven. Eggers gets haunting performances from Lily-Rose Depp and Willem Dafoe, but others, such as Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Emma Corrin, fail to shine in minor roles.
Nicholas Hoult, as Thomas Hutter, feels particularly flat and lacking in nuance, leaving the viewer questioning his presence in the film.
The musical score, which oscillates between melancholy and tension, complements the narrative with sophistication. Together with the sound design, which includes whispers and echoes, the film creates a hypnotic state that grips the viewer.