ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jennifer Upton is an American (non-werewolf) writer/editor in London. She currently works as a freelance ghostwriter of personal memoirs and writes for several blogs on topics as diverse as film history, punk rock, women’s issues, and international politics. For links to her work, please visit https://www.jennuptonwriter.com or send her a Tweet @Jennxldn

It’s an exceptionally difficult task for audiences to buy a ticket to a Dracula film, walk in, sit down and watch it with a completely open mind. Nosferatu is an expressionist Dracula film the same as its 1922 unauthorized namesake, based on the Bram Stoker novel that has been adapted into as many successful plays and films as anything Shakespeare ever wrote. Everyone has their favorite film version. Robert Eggers’ version will no doubt become the favorite for a lot of younger film enthusiasts the same way my favorite version is the 1992 Francis Ford Coppola film I saw at age 20. This new version ticks all the boxes in terms of the younger generations’ favorite themes including power imbalance, the need to earn, childhood trauma and gender roles.

The first half hour of the film is excellent. Every frame is a work of art. A perfect depiction of a young man willing to engage in a job he doesn’t want to do because he needs the money. Eggers’ is a master at casting actors whose faces etch across the screen like the ancient lithographs in old books about witchcraft and demonology.  Nicholas Hoult does a great job as the earnest but insecure Thomas Hutter a.k.a Jonathan Harker. Yes, his accent is better than Keanu’s.

The scenes in Count Orlok’s castle are creepy, and beautifully designed, infused with a sense of dreadful inevitability. Bill Skarsgard’s Orlok is damned creepy, physically monstrous, and rips out toddlers’ throats. Box ticked.

The scenes in Orlok’s castle are very engaging. Hutter is clearly under the count’s supernatural influence, even going so far as to take communal wine and bread. He’s in an isolated place, doing a thankless job. The prey in a predator’s game on its territory. If he executes his duties successfully, he’ll have a secure financial future for himself and his new bride, Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp).

Ellen is a victim of childhood trauma. While the link between Vlad and Mina is explained clearly in Coppola’s version as a case of reincarnation, here it’s simply that Ellen was a horny teenager with dark sexual fantasies. Liking sex opened her psyche to the darkness, giving Orlok the opportunity to psychically molest her. Why he chose her, when there were no doubt countless other horny teenagers wandering around during Orlok’s thousand-year existence is never explained. Nor are his origins explained. Ellen was simply the perfect victim and now Orlok wants her as his bride. He was probably lonely since Eggers removed the other vampire brides present in almost all previous adaptations.

Ellen’s adulthood “melancholy” only disappears when her new husband is by her side. Why? Is it because Hutter is Ellen’s new sexual outlet? One sanctioned by the ring on her finger? Is it because traumatized women need protecting? The answers to all these questions are mute because…atmosphere. But hey! Did you notice that the Hutters use candles while their wealthier friends the Hardings use gas lamps? That’s the level of macro filmmaking we’re dealing with here.  

Orlok begins visiting Ellen, who is now staying with the Hardings. 

Orlock comes to her in her dreams bringing Ellen to fits of shaking, eye-rolling and spitting worthy of a ‘70s Italian Exorcist clone. Fortunately, Ms. Depp has the acting chops to pull it off.

Thomas escapes Orlok’s castle, finds refuge with some healing nuns, grabs a horse and starts the journey home. A six-week landlocked journey from Carpathia to Germany. Meanwhile, Orlok ships himself all the way around Europe by boat when he could have just hired some gypsies to bring his coffin in a caravan in six weeks. Why bother showing all the detail involving Thomas Hutter’s journey back and forth by land only to have the count go by boat? Because it was in Bram Stoker’s book, you say? The book that took place in Carfax Abbey in London? It made sense when the story moved from Carpathia to London. Carpathia to Germany by boat? Not so much. Granted, rail was only about a decade old in 1838 when the movie takes place, but still. It’s an oversight in the 1922 version that remains here. I did enjoy seeing a bit more of what went down on the ship and the chaos that ensued from “the plague ship” when it finally docks in northern Germany filled with cute little rats.

When the Hardings begin to grow annoyed with Ellen’s nightly fits, they call on Dr. Sievers (Ralph Ineson) and Dr. — what was his name? — Oh, Hell. I’ll just call him Van Helsing, played by Willem Dafoe. I didn’t care for this version of these characters. Sievers seems to dismiss Ellen as a hysterical female. If he truly believes this, why even bother to seek out his mentor? Dafoe’s Van Helsing, while appropriately strange, was granted no real authority in the proceedings. He doesn’t know how to defeat the vampire. He can only guess. Why is he even there if he can’t help? I mean, come on! When Peter Cushing showed up, we knew we were in good hands. When Anthony Hopkins gave an order to give Lucy a transfusion, the other men listened and obeyed. 

Dafoe’s character’s sole purpose in the film seems to be to tell Ellen that she, simply by virtue of being a normal female with normal sexual desires, can save everyone by allowing her attacker to attack her again. Because the whole thing was her fault to begin with. It was at this point where I seriously began to consider why Robert Eggers chose to retain the outdated sexist themes of the 1922 version. Does he hate women? It was the exact opposite of the way I felt when Mina decapitated Prince Vlad in the ’92 version. My suspicion was vindicated when the lights came up and the woman sat behind me declared to her companion, “This movie is a warning to never marry any woman. Ever.” 

Nosferatu is a film that tells you that Ellen is the hero, while showing you quite the opposite. In fact, Eggers often ignores the golden rule of “show, don’t tell” on every major plot point in this film. In the 1992 version, we didn’t need to be told that Mina was the hero. We could see it with our own eyes through her actions. It improved on the original, more traditional Universal and Hammer versions. Here, there’s a lot of dialogue about Ellen being the hero but, in the end, she dies along with her assailant, sacrificing herself for the greater good, as in the original 1922 film. Even though it was her husband’s fault for selling the count a piece of real estate. She warned him not to go, but Thomas did it anyway and the only self-reflective scene in the movie is when Ellen tells him off for doing it. 

For all my complaints, I am a Drac enthusiast. Nosferatu is worthy of a second viewing, if only for the wonderful visuals, sound design, set design and overall atmosphere. Sometimes good atmosphere is all an audience needs to carry them through, although I have a feeling it won’t play as well at home as it did on a giant IMAX screen. It’s a technical triumph with a cold, hollow script. Like a decent cover version of an old favorite song. A song with a melody that’s so good, it’s nearly impossible to screw it up. 

(Editor’s note: Jenn sent me this note later: “I forgot to mention in my Nosferatu review the really long vampire schlong in IMAX.”)