Nosferatu (2024) | Review

Move over, sparkly vampires – there’s a new bloodsucker in town, and he’s here to remind us what truly goes bump in the night. Robert Eggers’ reimagining of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 classic “Nosferatu” isn’t just another fang in the crown of vampire cinema; it’s a masterclass in gothic horror that proves some ancient evils age like fine red wine (even if the big guy never touches the stuff).

In this deliciously dark take on the vampire mythos, Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok is about as far from the seductive charm of Frank Langella or Gary Oldman’s Draculas as a bat is from a butterfly. This is no romantic bloodsucker with bedroom eyes—Skarsgård’s Count is a decrepit, wheezing fiend that looks like something that crawled out of a medieval plague pit and decided to undress for dinner. And speaking of which, yes, you naughty horror fans, the Count does display his “drac dick,” but trust me, this isn’t the kind of reveal that’s going to launch a thousand thirsty TikToks.

Eggers, the visionary behind “The Witch” and “The Lighthouse,” has been obsessed with Murnau’s original since his high school days, when he staged it as a school play (talk about starting your horror education early!). This passion project proves to be his most accessible film yet, while still maintaining his trademark attention to period detail and atmospheric dread. Shot on location in the Czech Republic and Romania, the film’s gothic architecture and misty landscapes are enough to make any horror historian weep with joy.

Nicholas Hoult, fresh from serving a different kind of vampire as the titular “Renfield” character last year, brings compelling desperation to Thomas Hutter, transforming from ambitious young professional to fever-wracked witness of unspeakable horrors. Lily-Rose Depp’s Ellen brings a haunting vulnerability to her role as the object of Orlok’s otherworldly obsession and is stronger than most depictions of this doomed character. The supporting cast is equally stellar, with Willem Dafoe clearly having the time of his undead life as Professor Von Franz (a Van Helsing by any other name would smell as scholarly—and let’s not forget: he was in 2000’s “Shadow of the Vampire,” a fictional film about the making of the original silent-era “Nosferatu”).

What sets this “Nosferatu” apart from its fanged forebears is its steadfast refusal to romanticize its monster. While Herzog’s 1979 version leaned into the arthouse atmosphere and Coppola’s 1992 “Dracula” went full Gothic romance, Eggers strips away the sexy vampire tropes to reveal something far more primordial and terrifying. This is a vampire that doesn’t want to date you—it wants to devour you, body and soul.

The film’s cinematography, courtesy of Eggers’ regular collaborator Jarin Blaschke, is nothing short of breathtaking. Candlelit interiors create shadows that seem to breathe with malevolent life, while the outdoor scenes capture a natural world that feels both beautiful and hostile. Every frame could be a macabre painting, though this gallery is definitely not for the faint of heart.

Some may find the pacing deliberately methodical (or as some might say, slower than a vampire’s heartbeat), but this is horror that rewards patience. Eggers builds his dread like a master architect constructing a cathedral of terror—brick by patiently placed brick, until the weight of atmospheric horror threatens to crush you.

For horror buffs weaned on jump scares and quick cuts, this might feel like a departure, but that’s exactly the point. “Nosferatu” reminds us that true horror isn’t about what makes you jump—it’s about what makes you want to check under your bed before sleeping, and then check again, just to be sure. The film’s greatest achievement might be how it manages to honor its silent film ancestor while creating something that feels vitally alive for modern audiences. This isn’t just a remake; it’s a resurrection, breathing new unlife into century-old terrors.

So sink your teeth into this gloriously gothic feast—just don’t expect any romantic moonlit walks or vampire romance novel cover models. This is horror that goes straight for the jugular, reminding us that sometimes the most terrifying monsters are the ones that don’t try to seduce us at all. They just want to feed.

In a genre that too often tries to make its monsters relatable, Eggers’ “Nosferatu” dares to be truly alien and horrifying. It’s a bloody valentine to classic horror that proves some old nightmares never die—they just get better with age.

4 out of 5 Boats