Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is the long-awaited remake of the remake of the Dracula adaptation that wasn’t allowed to be Dracula but is now absolutely, definitely Dracula. It’s the cinematic equivalent of someone saying, “Trust me, this is different,” while handing you the same soggy sandwich three times in a row.
Now, to be fair, critics adore it. Audiences love it. It made a bunch of money. It will probably be studied in film schools by sad, pale students wearing capes.
But you didn’t ask for a good review.
You asked for a bad one.
So let me take this moody, artfully lit Victorian blood-sponge of a movie and rip it to shreds like it’s the throat of some poor Transylvanian villager.
THE VIBES: A TWO-HOUR GLOOMY PAINTING THAT MOVES (UNFORTUNATELY)
Here’s the thing about Eggers: he doesn’t make movies. He conjures curses with a camera.
Watching Nosferatu feels like:
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drowning in black velvet
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reading a cursed grimoire out loud by mistake
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being haunted by a Victorian chandelier
It’s visually stunning—if your aesthetic dream is “consumption patient lit only by a haunted candle.”
The cinematography is gorgeous, yes, but also so dark I started wondering if the projector bulb had taken a vow of poverty.
COUNT ORLOK: BILL SKARSGÅRD DOING ARTS AND CRAFTS WITH YOUR NIGHTMARES
Bill Skarsgård’s Orlok arrives looking like the world’s worst dental advertisement:
a pale, wet, decrepit freak who moves like a Victorian bug possessed by regret.
But does he talk?
Barely.
He hisses, he stares, he broods, he looks like he wants to tell you about the benefits of switching to gothic renewable energy.
He also bites people in the chest, which is bold.
Leave it to Eggers to turn a vampire into a horny tick with a locket fetish.
ELLEN: SAD, PALE, AND VERY BAD AT MAKING FRIENDS
Lily-Rose Depp plays Ellen, a woman so lonely she accidentally calls a demon like she’s casting a Tinder spell.
Ellen’s character arc:
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Be lonely
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Accidentally psychic-DM a vampire
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Become lonely and possessed
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Fight with her husband
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Sacrifice herself because she’s basically the world’s gothest Wi-Fi router for Orlok
Her greatest talent is fainting.
Her second is looking like she desperately needs iron supplements.
THOMAS HUTTER: THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE USELESS
Nicholas Hoult plays Thomas, Ellen’s husband and the human embodiment of a shrug.
He goes to Transylvania on business like he’s running a 19th-century RE/MAX franchise:
“Yeah yeah haunted castle, blood warnings, villagers screaming, whatever, I’ve got paperwork.”
His journey is basically:
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get gaslit by vampires
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get bitten on the boob
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run through forests
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fall into a river
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come home just in time to be absolutely useless
He also accidentally signs away his marriage in a move so stupid even Orlok looks embarrassed.
A SUPPORTING CAST OF CERTIFIED WEIRDOS
Willem Dafoe plays an occult scientist who looks like he hasn’t slept since the Plague of 1347. Perfect casting, honestly.
Aaron Taylor-Johnson plays Friedrich Harding, a wealthy husband, skeptical man, and Olympic-level idiot. His entire family dies because he refuses to believe in vampires. This is what happens when your personality trait is “rich and wrong.”
Herr Knock is Renfield-coded but turned up to 11. He eats live animals like they’re tapas and scampers around like a Victorian crack weasel.
THE PLOT: A GOTH SOAP OPERA WITH RATS
The story attempts to follow the original structure:
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Man visits vampire
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Vampire loves wife
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Vampire ships plague rats like cursed Amazon packages
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Everyone dies
But this version adds:
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psychic connections
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demonic contracts
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glowing eyes
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bathtub seizures
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childbirth drama
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awkward gothic sex
At some point, the movie becomes less Nosferatu and more:
“Everyone here needs therapy and better lighting.”
THE RATS: GIVE THEM THE OSCAR, COWARDS
The rats in this film put in more emotional work than half the cast.
They spread plague, they run dramatically down ship rails, they swarm in artistic formations like the Rockettes of disease.
If the rats had lines, the movie would be over in ten minutes:
“Hello, we’re the plague. Your town is doomed. Goodnight.”
THE PACING: SLOW LIKE A VAMPIRE WHO FORGOT TO WAKE UP
Eggers does not believe in pacing.
This movie takes its time like it’s getting paid by the minute.
Scenes happen so slowly that you start to question whether time itself has died.
At some point during hour two, I began rooting for Orlok—not because he’s compelling, but because maybe if he kills everyone, the movie will end.
THE FINAL ACT: EVERYONE MAKES TERRIBLE DECISIONS AT ONCE
The climax has:
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Ellen seducing a corpse-demon
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Thomas sprinting like a confused toddler
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Von Franz setting things on fire
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Orlok doing vampire foreplay
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Rats chilling
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Everyone dying in increasingly dramatic candlelit poses
Ellen sacrifices herself in the world’s least romantic vampire feeding session.
Thomas arrives just in time to watch her die and go, “Oops.”
Thanks, king. Really nailed it.
THE ENDING: TRAGIC, BLEAK, AND CONFIRMING NOBODY SHOULD HAVE CHILDREN
The town is saved, but:
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Ellen dies
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Thomas loses the only person more fragile than he is
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The plague is gone but everyone we cared about is dead
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Orlok gets roasted like a gothic marshmallow
Roll credits.
Play sad violins.
Show audience members googling “Is depression contagious?”
FINAL VERDICT: 3/10 MISPLACED LOCKS OF HAIR
Nosferatu is:
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gorgeous
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brooding
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atmospheric
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pretentious
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slow
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and so depressing it makes The Lighthouse look like Kung Fu Panda
It’s a real achievement if you love gothic misery.
If you want fun, joy, momentum, or light brighter than a single candle—run away while you still have blood in your body.
Would I recommend it?
Only if:
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you own at least one black turtleneck
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you’ve ever described yourself as “morbidly artistic”
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your favorite color is “Victorian consumption”
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you want two hours of vampire foreplay that ends in death
Otherwise, go watch something with a pulse.
Or at least something with lighting.
