The scariest thing about Nosferatu is the way Robert Eggers films Bill Skarsgård

This article contains mild spoilers for “Nosferatu”.

Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu has a lot to look forward to. If you’re familiar with the previous cinematic incarnations of Dracula, vampire films in general, Eggers’ filmography, or some combination of the three, then you won’t necessarily be surprised by everything in the film. There’s plenty of gore, a palpable sense of dread, an authenticity of time and place, and the psychosexual relationship between the vampire Count Orlak (Bill Skarsgård) and his victims – all aspects that anticipating vampire films and Eggers’ work should prepare you for.

Part of the joy of watching a real auteur work, though, is seeing how much they can still surprise you, even as they stay true to their quirks and tendencies. Nosferatu is undeniably Eggers’ film, as much as it is the quintessential vampire film, but it’s honestly a little shocking how fresh and vibrant it feels. Yes, it’s partly due to how inundated we are with vampires in the media – even a small streak where we expect a zag to be enough to attract attention – but the relish with which the director attacks this material has to be seen to be believed, especially when it comes to how scary the movie is. After all, we’re pretty used to vampires at this point in pop culture, so how could they be this scary again?

The answer, of course, lies in craftsmanship and presentation, two things at which Robert Eggers excels. The way he casts Skarsgård in the film, along with the other filmmaking techniques and elements he uses, combine to make “Nosferatu” is one of the scariest films about vampires.

Without a doubt, one of the most surprising, fascinating, and even shocking aspects of Nosferatu is the way Skarsgård’s “Count Orlak” is performed and presented. This is, of course, in keeping with Nosferatu tradition, as in the original film, F. V. The 1922 Murnau (unofficially based on Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula) starred Max Schreck as Orlak in make-up that the actor designed himself, which is still extremely effective and terrifying more than a century later. Shrek’s presence grows even stronger there are many rumors and unanswered questions about him that circulate to this dayurban legends that lead to a fictional view 2000’s Shadow of the Vampire , a film that postulates the idea that Shrek was a real creature of the night that Murnau had slyly hired.

In a letter Eggers wrote to a member of Critics Choicethe director went into some detail about how he, Skarsgård, and his collaborators, such as costume designer Linda Muir and prosthetic makeup designer David White, helped make their Orlok as creepy and creepy as possible, giving him a “folk vampire look.” As Eggers described it:

“Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlak is the first time the Dracula character has been represented by a folklore vampire—a walking corpse more like a zombie—and also the first time he’s dressed as a Transylvanian nobleman.”

This aesthetic, and its collision of the macabre with the mundane, is what makes this Orlak so unsettling. He is both a timeless creature of myth and the supernatural, in his place and his time; a presence that cannot be ignored or easily dismissed. In addition to the make-up (including a big, bushy mustache that only further helps to hide the actor’s boyish looks), Skarsgård reportedly worked with an operatic vocal coach to lower his voice an entire octave. This is, for my money, the most transformative performance from a famous actor since Robert De Niro in Raging Bull and the overall effect it has on the viewer strikes right into the uncanny valley. We know who it is, but we can’t identify it, and that puts us exactly where the filmmakers want us to be.

Perhaps Eggers’ most obvious, but still very effective trick in Nosferatu is the way he uses his camera. Even a cursory viewing of the film for the first time gives anyone an idea of ​​how long Eggers, cinematographer Jarin Blaschke, and editor Louise Ford have been saving a lot of shots. This technique defines one of the major themes of the film, namely how Orlak and vampirism have a dream-like effect on the human psyche, blurring the line between dreams and reality. This is the most important connection of the film with A Nightmare on Elm Street by Wes Craven which contains similar scenes of characters appearing to be dreaming only to hint that the events actually happened (or vice versa).

In other words, Nosferatu is a waking nightmare, and Eggers wants to keep the audience trapped in that nightmare along with his characters. The director claims in his aforementioned letter that these “long, continuous tracking shots” required help not only from the camera department, but also from the lighting department (for the candles that illuminate many of the scenes) and production designer Craig Lathrop, who made sure the sets were wild. (re: moving) to have the camera slide in and around space. This choice further affects the nightmarish, as many shots (especially those concerning the journey to Orlak Castle in Transylvania) fly through space as if from a first-person perspective. Whose POV it is is debatable. Suffice to say, it’s ultimately the audience’s POV that makes the act of watching Nosferatu an experience. Eggers doesn’t break the fourth wall completely, but we’re definitely a part of his film, too.

From the most obvious technique to the subtle: Nosferatu is a film shot in color, but with a distinctly monochromatic palette. Each set designed by Eggers and Lathrop seems to have been painted and coordinated to subtly drain (pun intended) color from everything, even before Count Orlak arrived in Germany. Of course, this is partly because Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp) is our main character and has been stalked, wooed and wooed by Orlak for years before the story begins. Another reason it looks like this is that it evokes both classic Murnau silent cinema and the 19th century in general, or at least a version of that period in our collective unconscious, given our cultural shorthand between the past and black and white.

Above these reasons, it is worth noting the fact that this palette enhances the effect of the two previous aspects of the film. This adds even more to the eerie Orlak Valley and the film itself, literally playing tricks on our eyes as we watch the film. It also adds to the film’s dreaminess, giving some viewers the false impression that the film was actually shot in black and white, making memories of its images tainted and far more untrustworthy. Like a master of horror, Eggers skillfully combines the more expected trappings of the genre—music bites, jumps, aggressive sound design, theatrics, and plenty of gore—with these subtler, more disturbing elements. The overall effect of this is that once the feel of the films expected scary elements wear off, the sneaky subtle aspects continue to bother.

Finally, the choice to film in color without any emphasis on color helps with the film’s other protagonist besides Ellen—daylight, which is the only thing that can defeat Orlak. Eggers properly restrains sunny scenes until the very end of the film, and even candlelight isn’t enough to completely dispel the darkness. With this and all of his skill on display, Nosferatu becomes as rich an experience as you’d expect from a horror film that scares just as well on first viewing as it does on repeat viewings.