Nosferatu (2024) Review
A Gothic Revival That Mesmerizes and Haunts
🎭 Genre: Horror, Gothic
📅 Year: 2024
🎭 Top Cast: Bill Skarsgård, Lily-Rose Depp, Nicholas Hoult, Willem Dafoe
🍅 Rotten Tomatoes Score: 84% (Critics), 73% (Audience)
⭐ IMDb Rating: 7.8/10
Synopsis
Set in 1838, Nosferatu follows Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult), who is sent to the Carpathian Mountains to close a real estate deal with the reclusive Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård). What begins as a business transaction quickly descends into a gothic nightmare, as the vampire becomes fixated on Hutter’s wife, Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp), and brings terror back with him to their German hometown of Wisborg.
Spoiler-Free Review
Nosferatu (2024) is a stunning, atmospheric revival of the 1922 silent horror classic—elevated by breathtaking cinematography, gorgeously oppressive lighting, and a thick, painterly sense of dread. Robert Eggers delivers a film that looks like a living photograph from a haunted century. Bill Skarsgård’s Orlok is less seductive and more monstrous—his presence lingers like mildew in the lungs, and you feel it.
But as beautiful as it is, it feels short. Fragmented. The story feels like a missing puzzle box—particularly when it comes to Ellen and Orlok’s shared past.
It wants to haunt, but not to explain. I wanted more. More story, more backstory, more terror.
Still, I loved it.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
In-Depth Review: Light, Longing, and a Vampire That Lurks in the Gaps
Nosferatu is, without a doubt, one of the most visually exquisite horror films I’ve seen in a hot minute. Eggers doesn’t just light scenes—he sculpts them. The shadows feel like they’re breathing. Every flicker of candlelight is deliberate. Every drop of moonlight paints emotion.
There’s one early moment—Thomas Hutter, alone on a moonlit road as a horse-drawn carriage barrels toward him—that is so perfectly framed it genuinely took my breath. Hutter is backlit in silver, standing like an afterthought in a ghost story already being told without him. It’s a shot I’ll come back to again and again. Eggers’ composition here is chef’s kiss—spooky, reverent, operatic.
Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok is nothing like the tragic romantic Dracula of Coppola’s 1992 film. This is not a sultry blood prince. This is not a man who quotes poetry and gently lures his victims to their doom. This Orlok is monstrous—creaturely. And yet, it’s precisely because he’s so grotesque that I found myself oddly fascinated. Who was he before he turned? He must’ve been striking, even handsome in a way that’s since been warped into something terrible. You can feel the echo of that lost self under the pale skin and needle teeth, and I couldn’t help but want more of him. He’s in the film plenty—yet not enough.
That leads me to the poster (one of them), which depicts a version of Orlok we never actually see. That classic silhouette—bald, rat-toothed, Nosferatu ’22—is nowhere in this film. A deliberate homage, maybe. A bit of marketing sleight-of-hand, probably. But it leaves me wondering: Was there a cut? A transformation sequence that never made the edit? Or was it all just for the sake of legacy and homage to the original?
Where the film falters—truly—lies in its restraint. Ellen and Orlok clearly have a history, and we’re told just enough to become obsessed with the idea that something truly sinister happened there. Ellen says she was a child when Orlok came into her life, and what we’re left to infer is devastating. This isn’t romance. This is grooming. This is seduction under the guise of power and manipulation, and it’s the most intriguing thread in the film—and yet, barely explored. There’s one conversation between them that hints at their past, but that’s all we get.
She’s portrayed as fragile, haunted, wracked by seizures and ‘melancholy’—but what she’s experiencing feels like something far deeper. A lifetime of trauma dressed up in 19th-century gentility. She’s been stalked by nightmares, and Orlok’s return (conveniently timed to her marriage) feels less like chance and more like obsession reawakening. But we’re never told why now. What triggered him? What’s his endgame? The lack of answers doesn’t feel mysterious—it feels like omission. There’s an emotional vacuum where a backstory should live.
This narrative sparseness is even more pronounced when you stack it against Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), which—yes, confirmed—is based on the same source material that the original Nosferatu (1922) ripped off without permission. Coppola’s version delves deeply into love, war, reincarnation, and grief. Eggers’ film, by contrast, feels like an exquisite silhouette—hauntingly shaped but lacking flesh. The emotional beats are there—terror, dread, loss—but the story never quite catches up with the atmosphere.
The supporting cast is strong, though not without bumps. Willem Dafoe’s first scene rings with the faintest twang of his native accent before quickly vanishing behind character work, and Friedrich Harding’s performance just… doesn’t sit right. I can’t explain it. It’s like a broken puzzle piece wedged into the wrong slot—close enough to fit, but never quite part of the full picture.
The film also resists leaning fully into horror. There are moments of sharp anxiety, crawling dread, unease that clings to your skin like damp wool—but not many scares. Not the kind that make your breath catch. The horror is elegant, not primal. Which might suit the film’s tone, but left me wishing it had dug in harder. Just one or two more moments of “oh fuck” would’ve helped. I’ll be rewatching it, absolutely—but this time, I’ll come with a more analytical mind instead of watching through the fog of awe.
Final Thoughts
Nosferatu (2024) is the kind of film that sinks into your bones more than your bloodstream. It doesn’t hit with the velocity of modern horror, but with a slow, elegant seepage—like wine into antique linen. The lighting is exquisite. The atmosphere is unmatched. Skarsgård is haunting and repellent in the best way.
And yet—I wanted more. More story. More Ellen. More Orlok. More fear. What we’re given is beautiful, but feels like a canvas half-painted. A haunted portrait with its eyes scratched out.
Where to Watch
🔍 Nosferatu (2024) is currently streaming on Peacock in the United States. In New Zealand, it is expected to be available for rental via Apple TV and Google Play. Availability may vary by region.