Robert Eggers’ *Nosferatu* crystallizes a recurring theme in his work: the excavation and embrace of ancient pagan ways. This article contains massive *Nosferatu* spoilers.
Judging by his filmography, Robert Eggers isn’t strictly religious. His debut film concluded with a Puritan girl achieving liberation from her Calvinist upbringing by selling her soul to the Devil. This arguably represents the happiest ending in his filmography. His subsequent films consistently explore religion, tradition, and magic, from the anxieties surrounding witchcraft and independent women in his early work, to the jarring glimpse into the “Dark Ages” of the British Isles, a time when pagan and Christian beliefs intertwined. This fascination significantly impacts his new *Nosferatu*.
Like its source material and the 1922 adaptation, the 2024 *Nosferatu* delves into faith and the clash between old and new world beliefs. Bram Stoker’s *Dracula*, for instance, reflects Victorian anxieties about ritual, foreign influences, and female sexuality, framing them within a narrative of modern England vanquishing the ancient past through science and Christianity.
However, Eggers’ *Nosferatu* differs significantly from Stoker’s *Dracula*. While Christian imagery abounds in Eggers’ film, it often depicts impotent attempts to control Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård). Even the Van Helsing proxy, Professor Albin Eberhart Von Franz (Willem Dafoe), lacks the resolute confidence of Stoker’s character; he’s a raving alchemist, not a scientifically minded doctor. Eggers himself notes the ambiguity of his film’s moral landscape: “I make fun of that idea with some of the dialogue that Von Franz has,” he stated. “But is it a traditional good versus evil story? I don’t think so. I think it’s gray, and I think that that’s always more interesting…”
Eggers’ overarching theme isn’t about defeating the past but solemnly remembering and honoring it, even succumbing to its power. This is best exemplified in a tender scene following a funeral. Ellen Hutter (Lily-Rose Depp), having witnessed the monstrous Orlok, seeks understanding from Von Franz, who alone grasps her fascination with the darkness. He offers little solace, highlighting the futility of traditional vampire-killing methods. The only effective method, he suggests, lies in the journals of Orlok’s disciple: a willing woman offering herself to the vampire until sunrise.
This echoes Murnau’s 1922 *Nosferatu*, showcasing a fatalistic despair absent in *Dracula*. Eggers’ film retains this sense of inescapable doom but infuses it with newfound sympathy and warmth, distinct from even the 1922 version. Von Franz expresses genuine empathy for Ellen, suggesting she might have been revered as a pagan priestess in a different era. Instead, she’s confined to the constraints of 19th-century society and ultimately sacrifices herself.
Eggers subtly frames Ellen’s sacrifice within a broader narrative about choosing the obscurity of the past over the certainty of modernity. Orlok’s origins remain shrouded in mystery, unlike in Coppola’s *Bram Stoker’s Dracula* or Rice’s *Vampire Chronicles*. Eggers deliberately obscures the details of Orlok’s transformation and the nature of the deal Thomas makes, leaving the audience, like Ellen and Von Franz, to piece together the truth. Even Von Franz’s preferred talisman, the Fourth Pentacle of Mercury, is never explicitly explained.
Despite their occult inexperience, Von Franz and Ellen actively seek to understand the metaphysical world. Characters representing modernity, such as Harding (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), remain defenseless against these ancient truths.
*Nosferatu*’s expression of this theme is arguably the gentlest, yet it aligns with the fatalism found in Eggers’ other films: Thomasin’s acceptance of her fate in *The Witch*, Wickie’s confrontation with the unknowable in *The Lighthouse*, and Amleth’s embrace of destiny in *The Northman*. In all his films, the metaphysical world reflects the characters’ beliefs.
*Nosferatu* differs slightly; the characters lack the expertise to fully comprehend Orlok. Despite Von Franz’s acceptance of Ellen’s sacrifice, the film demonstrates that magic exists, and survival requires reconnecting with it.
Eggers’ films, informed by his Jungian leanings, bring to the forefront elements of the collective subconscious: witches, vampires, and spiritual truths from ancient cultures. His upcoming project, *The Knight*, a medieval period piece, suggests a continued exploration of this fascination with the past, possibly mirroring the otherworldly feel of *The Northman* and *Nosferatu*. The rich tapestry of medieval Christianity, with its mystical elements and unconventional stories of saints and knights, offers fertile ground for Eggers’ distinct style.
Eggers’ exploration of pagan themes, particularly those of Isis, could also provide a fascinating and unique lens through which to reimagine the “sword and sandals” genre. The potential for a director of *The Northman*’s caliber to venture into this largely Ridley Scott-dominated landscape promises a potentially groundbreaking, and uniquely Eggers-ian religious experience.
*Nosferatu* is in theaters now.