When you hear filmmakers claim “I’ve been wanting to make this film my whole life,” it often feels like PR hyperbole. In Robert Eggers‘ case though, this is demonstrably true. Having directed a play of Nosferatu in high school, the story has clearly loomed large in his mind for much of his working life, and clear that the director has poured his heart into this Gothic, sweeping horror epic. Every shot feels painstakingly composed, and he delivers a film that is both faithful to the source material and distinctly his own creation, complete with archaic dialogue and disorienting visuals. The result is exactly what you might expect from an Eggers Nosferatu—unpredictable, audacious, and entirely singular.

Dracula is one of the most well trodden, well-parodied stories in the horror genre. Estate agent Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult) travels to the Carpathian mountains to meet his client, the bloodthirsty Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård) whose interest quickly turns to Hutter’s wife Ellen (Lily Rose Depp) a troubled woman with a history of communing with demons.

While Eggers has been clear that FW Murnau’s seminal work was the primary influence for this film, Nosferatu draws inspiration from a wide array of sources. These include Werner Herzog’s other Nosferatu film, Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Shadow of the Vampire, and even The Last Voyage of the Demeter. Despite these influences, Eggers’ version carves out its own unique identity, focusing on mood, atmosphere, and unrelenting dread.

Eggers brings a distinct look to the film, both emulating the expressionistic cinematography of the Murnau film and creating something that feels new, bringing his own brand of disturbing nightmare imagery to this tried and tested narrative. The shot composition is beautifully uncanny and meticulous without the flamboyance of Coppola’s film. The way the director dances around fully showing Orlok in his introductory scene is wonderfully disorienting, and Ellen’s numerous dream sequences are fittingly enough, and the stuff of nightmares.

Part of what makes this adaptation work so well is the emphasis on Ellen as the main character, and be under no illusion, she *is* the main character. In a year filled with female actors giving intense, physically demanding performances in genre pieces, Lily-Rose Depp might give the most impressive and powerful. Depp is the heart of the film, delivering a physically intense and emotionally gripping performance that transforms Ellen into a fully realized, complex figure. Her possession scenes, in particular, are astonishing, as she contorts her face and body in ways that are both mesmerizing and horrifying.

I still find it curious that there was precious little mention of the Werner Herzog adaptation in the build up to this release, particularly when the Dracula / Orlok that Skarsgård most resembles is Klaus Kinski from the 1979 version. He’s a grotesque, overtly monstrous creation—possibly the most horrifying depiction of Dracula yet. Like Kinski, he plays it incredibly feral. Both portrayals are very different but both are distinctly un-human, but but there is none of the pathos or longing that comes from Kinski’s mournful eyes. Skarsgård’s Orlok is pure malevolence, bringing a visceral sense of decay and doom to the film. His rotting flesh, disturbing feeding habits, and animalistic ferocity make him a truly repellent figure, and Eggers accentuates this by crafting a physicality and menace that strip the character of any romantic veneer, leaving only an insatiable predator.

Yet despite Skarsgård’s vivid performance, Orlok himself feels somewhat underwhelming in design. His heavily stylized look, including an oversized moustache, obscures much of the actor’s expressions, making it hard to connect with or fully appreciate his portrayal. Additionally, Eggers’ decision to delay Orlok’s full reveal feels like a misstep, robbing the character of some immediate impact.

What I really enjoyed about this version is not so much the characterisation of Orlok, but the attention paid to characters who are often sidelined in adaptations. Simon McBurney’s Herr Knock, the film’s version of Renfield, is a standout. Usually a source of humour and / or pathos, this version is a simultaneously absurd and disquieting figure who plays a more significant and terrifying role than usual.

Nicholas Hoult gives a surprisingly subtle performance as the perpetually bewildered Hutter, while Willem Dafoe, clearly relishing playing the Van Helsing role, brings an eccentric charm to the character (and it’s clear that he relishes playing a goodie after already playing Orlok in Shadow Of The Vampire). Emma Corrin, Ralph Ineson, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson round out the cast with strong supporting performances, each of whom get a moment to shine. Johnson in particular injects some much-needed levity as Hoult’s pompous best friend, although he is the only one whose performance sometimes feels a little mannered. When everything is heightened to this extent, though, it’s unclear whether this is a flaw or an intended feature!

Perhaps most importantly, Eggers has achieved something rare with Nosferatu: he’s made a Dracula film that is actually terrifying. While previous adaptations—Murnau’s, Herzog’s and Coppola’s included—have excelled in atmosphere, they’ve rarely been outright scary. Eggers’ version, however, is deeply unsettling, blending creeping dread with effective jump scares and a pervasive sense of unease. The depiction of the plague, an element drawn heavily from Herzog’s film, is particularly harrowing. Swarms of rats and the devastating spread of disease are vividly depicted, adding a visceral layer of horror to the narrative – for once the main characters are directly effected by the plague, and the results are as unpleasant as you might expect.

While Eggers’ love for the material is evident, Nosferatu is a cerebral exploration of the story than a passionate retelling. Instead of trying to outdo Murnau or Herzog, he approaches the tale from a more character-driven perspective, focusing on Ellen’s strength and agency as well as the harrowing effects of Orlok’s evil on the lives of those around him. The film’s climactic dawn sequence, often an anticlimactic moment in other adaptations, is a visual and emotional highlight here, showcasing some of the most stunning effects in the film.

If this makes the film feel less exuberant than Eggers’ earlier works, it’s no less compelling for that. Both The Witch and The Lighthouse had a dark, mischievous energy that seems more muted here. That said, the film’s deliberate pacing and tonal consistency make it one of Eggers’ most accessible projects. It strikes a happy medium between the brooding, abstract moodiness of his first two films and the more conventional narrative structure of The Northman, while plainly cut from the same cloth as all three.

If it seems like I’m a little cool on this film, I should say that it genuinely might be the most wholly successful version of the Dracula story ever committed to film, with a performance from Lily Rose Depp that is up there with the very best of the year. For a story that has been told countless times, Eggers finds a way to make Nosferatu feel fresh and new, by shifting the focus onto Ellen and crafting a a genuinely frightening take on the material. The director creates a film that pays homage to its predecessors while standing firmly on its own. It’s a distinct and atmospheric love letter to Nosferatu’s cinematic legacy and a fresh, audacious take on a timeless tale.

Nosferatu is in UK and Irish cinemas from 1st January 2025