Robert Eggers made a significant impression with his 2015 directorial debut "The Witch", and has continued to impress me since. A reimagining of "Nosferatu" at his helm seemed like a dream come true, and after many years, it finally came to fruition with somewhat mixed results.
As with the original 1922 film and Werner Herzog's surreal 1979 remake, Eggers mostly honors the source material here. The original film itself was a blatant derivative of "Dracula," so anyone who knows the bones of that classic story will more or less already have the lay of the land in terms of what happens in "Nosferatu".
Firstly, the attention to detail here is impeccable; the period costumes and sets are dazzling, and the cinematography is top-notch, with repeated uses of muted grey nighttime sequences that border on black-and-white (intentional I'm sure, as an ode to the Murnau original). In the latter act, as rats and plague take over the streets, there is a palpable sense of rot that is highly effective. Given that Eggers has proven his excellence in these departments with his previous films, it is no surprise that the finer details and visuals are uniformly stunning.
As far as performances are concerned, we have a strong cast here. Lily-Rose Depp (whom I'd never seen in anything prior to this) gave a formidable performance as the haunted Ellen Hutter, who is pursued by Count Orlock (Bill Skarsgard), a malevolent vampire whose connection to her is emboldened when her husband Thomas (Nicholas Hoult) is assigned to handle estate matters for the Count. Willem Dafoe is as spunky as ever here as an occult expert who attempts to help the Hutters, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Emma Corrin give effective performances as the Hardings, friends of the Hutters who oversee the troubled Ellen while Thomas travels to Orlock.
All of these aforementioned elements give the film a real leg up, and approximately the first half of it (largely consisting of Thomas's travels into Transylvania and first encounter with Orlock) are engrossing and beautifully contrasted with Ellen's "melancholic" (and eventually possession-like) episodes back in urban Germany. However, once the story returns its focus to the city, the film seems to stall its momentum. One of the notable differences in this reimagining is that the focus revolves more around the Ellen character (aptly named "Lucy Harker" in Herzog's version) and the Hardings, but the unfortunate thing is that it never feels like the audience gets to know them any better for it. This is especially so in the case of Ellen, whose character has a slightly different spin in Eggers's screenplay, specifically in terms of her relationship to Orlok. The result feels like a missed opportunity, and the proverbial stake is driven in even further when one considers the film's running time, which is considerably longer than both the 1922 and 1979 versions, and yet those films often feel more involved. There is a strange amorphousness about this 2024 version's latter half that left it feeling enervated, especially against the ominous and suspenseful first hour.
The film's conclusion will hold no surprises for those who already know the previous films, but Eggers's staging of it is nonetheless spectacular and visually effective-and this is a fact that remains true about the film as a whole. Unfortunately, the film stumbles in the latter half as it seems to attempt to expand the material without ever fully reaching a satisfactory fever pitch. All that being said, the film is a gothic visual marvel in its own right, upheld by stunning cinematography and uniformly solid performances. It is imperfect, but it is a showstopper in more ways than one. 7/10.
