FILM REVIEW: "Nosferatu" is fang-tastic
In the curtails of World War 1 - as gunpowder mist veiled the sky and the acrid scent of death perfumed the streets - Germany faced economic and political instability. Citizens, faced with a dark and dire reality, sought to express their fears through artistic mediums.
In charcoal chiaroscuro and coulisse contortions, death arrived: Nosferatu, a symphony of terror. A Dracula adaption for the times. A creeping silhouette synonymous with the German Expressionist movement. Now, some hundred and two years later, death is awoken from its tomb.
On a cursory expedition, estate agent Thomas Hutter has a fateful meeting with a mysterious prospective client, whose true nature will put Thomas, his loved ones, and the very world at stake of a diabolical curse.
In the hallowed hands of writer/director Robert Eggers, Nosferatu reigns as the definitive Dracula feature. Those familiar with callous Count's timeless tale will find few surprises - though Eggers, in his usual tome, delivers an accomplished and faithful adaptation. Eggers, a maestro not only in his genre, but in his craft, cements himself as one of cinema’s greatest additions.
Removed from the roots of its German Expressionism, whilst retaining the undying fear of the unknown; Eggers, as always, adds layers of eroticism: Nosferatu creeps into dreams, awaking devilish urges, and finds his fangs upon necks and chest. Like Eggers’ previous entries - The Witch and The Lighthouse - Nosferatu may struggle to strike true fear into Conjuring-commoners; but for those ready for a period piece palpable with fear, Nosferatu enraptures audiences with a cold embrace.
From the candlelit halls of Orlok's mansion, to the painstakingly precise streets of 1838 Germany - Nosferatu's set, lighting, and costume team stitch their souls in every seam; all captured in shades of damnation and doom by Jarin Blaschke's unbeatable eye. Nosferatu is a behemoth in the art of film. Every frame a painting; every set a landmark.
Spoken with period-accurate dialect, Nosferatu boasts a bountiful cast. Egger's familiars: Willem Dafoe and Ralph Ineson steal scenes as burgeoning academics of the occult; erstwhile Nicholas Holt and Emma Corrin hold the viewer in goose-bumped arms as they babble and shriek their way through halls of horror. Bill Skarsgard, as comfortable as he ever is, clad in blood and prosthetics, earns the titular role with a sinister smirk. Somewhat lacklustre are Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Lily Rose Depp, whose afflictions mimic rather than channel horrors greatest.
Like the far-reaching shadow of its titular terror, Nosferatu is sweeping in scope and scale. Eggers crafts this passion project with his signature sensibilities. From folkish horrors to public pandemonium, Nosferatu is a daring, beautiful, and often erotic horror - and the true, definitive Dracula film.
So - if you needed an invitation to see Nosferatu, this is one - visit your local cinema freely. Go safely; and leave a piece of the happiness you brought with you.
