Nosferatu (2024)
★★★ 1/2
Robert Eggers has done it again—or at least, he’s done something again. Ever since The Witch, I’ve been a devoted Eggers fan, eager to experience his eerie, slow-burning nightmares on the biggest screen possible. The man knows how to frame a shot, how to wield black-and-white cinematography like a sorcerer, and how to make history feel disturbingly alive. So when it came to his reimagining of Nosferatu, I trusted his vision completely.
And for the most part, that trust was well-placed. The first half of this film is stunning—a mesmerizing, gothic fever dream that pulls you in with its eerie atmosphere, unsettling imagery and hypnotic storytelling. It’s the kind of horror that doesn’t just scare you but seeps into your bones. The use of light and shadow, the ethereal mood and the haunting beauty of the world Eggers creates are masterful.
But here’s the thing: Nosferatu overstays its welcome.
I found myself completely enraptured at first, but as the film dragged on, I felt an increasing itch to check my (nonexistent) pocket watch. It felt like it could have been at least 45 minutes shorter, a tight, eerie nightmare instead of a slow march to an inevitable conclusion. We linger so long with these characters, and while their stories are fascinating, we already know how this tale ends. At a certain point, I was ready to move on—no matter how many swarms of rats Eggers threw at the screen.
That said, the performances kept me engaged. Willem Dafoe has given us some terrifying performances before, but Bill Skarsgård as Count Orlok is something else entirely—an unholy creation that feels both grotesque and tragic. He disappears into the role (literally and figuratively), making Nosferatu his own while still honoring the legacy of Max Schreck’s iconic performance.
And can we talk about Nicholas Hoult? The man was born for period pieces. He just gets the tone, the delivery, the whole reluctant hero shtick. He’s like an actor plucked straight from a 19th-century novel, always bringing the right balance of charm and unease. Meanwhile, Lily-Rose Depp gives a performance that’s both delicate and unsettling. This was my first real introduction to her work, and I was blown away by how much she resembles her famous father—not just in her bone structure, but in her ability to convey so much with so little.
Interestingly, this version of Nosferatu leans into an exorcism-esque vibe more than I expected. There are definite nods to horror classics, and Eggers clearly reveres the Nosferatu legacy. But while I admire his ambition, I do wonder where this film will ultimately land in the horror canon. Hardcore horror fans might find it too slow and artsy, while casual viewers might find it way too unsettling to enjoy. It exists in a weird, shadowy space between arthouse horror and traditional gothic horror.
At the end of the day, Nosferatu is a gorgeous, atmospheric and deeply unsettling film that will stick with you long after the credits roll. But much like the count himself, it lingers a little too long in the dark.
