By Annabel Simmons
“Death and the Maiden,” a timeless motif that intertwines morality and desire, capturing the fleeting essence of life and the seductive pull of death. Robert Eggers’ 2024 remake of “Nosferatu” revisits this classic theme, delving into its haunting symbolism and exploring the dark, seductive forces at play.
Originally directed by F.W. Murnau, “Nosferatu” was released in 1922 as a silent film in Germany. It emerged as an unofficial adaptation of Bram Stoker’s novel, “Dracula,” but underwent numerous changes to avoid a copyright lawsuit. Unsuccessful in this pursuit, Stoker’s estate still filed a lawsuit, and all copies of “Nosferatu” were ordered to be destroyed. Just as the film was almost completely lost, a singular print copy made its way to the United States where it gained popularity. By the 1960s, “Nosferatu” had cemented itself as a horror classic. When “Dracula” entered the public domain worldwide, the film was finally able to be shown without restriction.
Eggers, “Nosferatu’s” latest director, is renowned for his work in historical horror, with acclaimed films like “The Witch” (2015) and “The Lighthouse” (2019). These films were distributed by A24 Films LLC, an independent company known for spotlighting emerging filmmakers and unique cinematic works. Throughout his career, Eggers has worked towards bringing his interpretation of one of cinema’s most iconic horror films to life, declaring “Nosferatu” as his dream project. Following the success of “The Witch,” bolstered by A24’s support, Eggers gained the recognition needed to bring his long-awaited “Nosferatu” remake to life.
“Nosferatu” (2024) roughly follows the same plot as Murnau’s original silent film. The film opens as a vague, ominous, portentous voice calls out to the young protagonist, Ellen Hutter (Lily-Rose Depp). As she prays to the voice for companionship, she violently collapses to the ground and convulses in agony, encapsulating a state of hysteria — immense with both pleasure and pain. It is revealed that Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård), a lustful vampire, is the voice to her prayers; the destined end to Orlok and Ellen’s fateful, psychic connection transpires throughout the entirety of the film.
Years later, in 1838, Ellen lives in Wisborg, Germany, with her husband, Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult). Newly-wed and hoping to secure an official position at his firm, Thomas takes on a six-week journey to an isolated, crumbling castle within the Carpathian Alps in Transylvania to sell a home to an ambiguous Count Orlok. Unaware that this arrangement is part of a pact between Orlok and his employer Herr Knock (Simon McBurney), Thomas takes off for his fleet dubiously.
From the start, the film is a mesmerizing masterpiece of stunning visuals and raw, visceral horror. The camera work brings forth a deep sense of romantic darkness, with striking cinematography that can be described as disturbing, erotic, fluid and haunting.
Just before Thomas departs, Ellen confides in him about her nightmare where she envisions herself marrying death, which serves as a significant foreshadowing of the fate between her and Orlok. Upon his first night in Orlok’s castle, Thomas is forced to sign indecipherable documents, unknowingly signing away his rights to Ellen. Soon, Thomas falls prey to Orlok’s insatiable thirst for blood and is imprisoned in the castle.
Amidst Orlok’s feeding on Thomas, there are many scenes where the bodies of Ellen and Orlok flicker between one another, further blurring the lines between their destinies and emphasizing their connection.
Awakening from his confinement, Thomas explores the castle and stumbles upon Orlok sleeping in his coffin. He realizes that this monstrous figure is the very creature from Ellen’s dream. Seizing a pickaxe, Thomas tries to kill Orlok but lacks the power to overcome Orlok’s vicious retaliation.
Anticipation daunts the film, withholding Orlok’s full reveal until almost 50 minutes in. Upon his reveal, Skarsgård’s ability to completely manifest the character of Orlok is immensely impressive. Orlok — a grotesque towering, rotting, corpse-like figure with lanky, clawed hands — steers clear from the realm of the romantic vampire trope. The decrepit Orlok is the embodiment of an evil, deathly predator — meant to evoke discomfort in viewers.
I found Orlok’s repulsive and sinister nature juxtaposed with Ellen’s pure, angelic form to conjure significant meaning in the film. Themes of desire and shame become evident and unravel until its very end.
Left in the care of her husband’s friend, Friedrich Harding (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), in Wisborg, Ellen becomes haunted by sleepwalking episodes and an overwhelming fear that something terrible has happened to Thomas. Dr. Wilhelm Sievers (Ralph Ineson) initially diagnoses Ellen’s condition as an imbalance in her blood, but her state worsens, and Sievers turns to his mentor, Albun Eberhart Von Franz (Willem Dafoe), for help.
Eggers’ touch of historical realism is evident in his portrayal of the misogynic medical practices that daunted the 19th century. For “treatment,” Ellen is drugged, restrained and told to “keep her corset on.”
Finally fleeing from Orlok, Thomas escapes through a window and leaps into a river. However, seething after Ellen, Orlok follows closely behind and boards a ship headed to Wisborg. His arrival brings destruction and disease to the town, inducing great death and despair.
Before this point, the film felt very slow, but it picks up when Ellen and Orlok finally meet face to face in one of her dreams. Their confrontation reveals the conflict at the root of the film — the shadowy, eternal creature as Ellen’s repressed desires. The true quarrel takes place internally within Ellen.
Ellen denies Orlok’s affirmations when he speaks of her as his “fated affliction,” stating that her passion has been bound to him. He is the result of Ellen’s shame, and “taken as her melancholy,” Orlok has come back to consummate their pact from the opening scene of the film.
With plague still ravaging Wisborg, Ellen realizes that the only way to save the town is to give herself to Orlok. As a final sacrifice, Ellen lets Orlok feed on her, preventing him from sensing the first rays of dawn, which ultimately annihilate him. In her final moments, Ellen is content; her own willingness to submit to her desires allowed for her seeming redemption. Orlok’s death as a result of the morning light is metaphoric, as light is also often equated with purity. Upon Orlok’s collapse, Ellen succumbs to her wounds, and Thomas is left to grieve his cherished wife, whose obliging sacrifice broke the curse of Nosferatu.
The film ends with a scene of Orlok’s skeleton laid upon Ellen’s limp, lifeless body — lilacs laid atop them both. Once again, there is beautiful dichotomy in the symbolism behind the flowers — youth, innocence and purity — next to the image of death, with blood filling every crevice around them.
There is much to be said of the deep symbolism in the film, specifically of what Orlok and Ellen represent. Although there is a mutual yearning between the two, Orlok seemingly represents Ellen’s repressed sexual desires; yet, there are conflicting notions of whether this is liberating or demonizing. Ellen’s desire for Orlok surrounds her with shame, guilt, and self-hatred — byproducts of the social norms of the 19th century. Female sexual appetite was considered monstrous during this period, which is encapsulated through Orlok’s character.
Set during an incredibly conservative time period, this is continuously seen through the characters of Anna (Emma Corrin) and Friedrich Harding. Friedrich, perceiving Ellen as a threat to his idealized, patriarchal family, frequently dismisses Ellen and strips of her autonomy. Anna, confined to the roles of wife and mother, adhering to the rigid gender norms of the 19th century, stands in stark contrast to Ellen’s character. Ultimately, Ellen is vilified and ostracized.
While Ellen ultimately weaponizes her sexuality against Orlok, she is still forced to submit to him and utilize her own death to redeem society. It is ambiguous whether this is a portrayal of her desires as powerful or destructive. The 2024 film can certainly be considered a critique of puritanical societies and the repression of women. Although first released in 1922, many themes in “Nosferatu” remain strikingly relevant today, raising questions about the contemporary corruption of power and the harsh societal expectations that continue to engulf the world.