A tale of two “Nosferatus”

By Sarah Jester

Room for one more onboard the Demeter?

2024 was a monumental year for Nosferatu fans. Not one but two adaptations of the classic vampire tale have graced the silver screen: Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu and the first of film programmer Josh Frank’s newly launched “Silents Synced” series, Nosferatu X Radiohead.

Both draw on F.W. Murnau’s 1922 silent classic Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, the unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula. Murnau lightly edits the 1897 epistolary horror, renaming the titular villain Count Orlok, later referred to as Nosferatu.

What does "nosferatu" mean? Romanian interpretations point towards “vampire” or “undead.” Other etymological experts look to the Greek term “nosophoros,” or “disease-bearing.” One thing’s for certain—both Max Schreck and Bill Skarsgård have the undead, disease-bearing vampiric sauce.

What follows are two very different accounts of the same story.

**

As a fan of Herzog’s 1979 Nosferatu the Vampyre, I was thrilled to hear that Eggers would be directing his own adaptation of the vamp classic. Pity to have to wait until Christmas Day, though. What’s that? A 1922 Nosferatu screening at the AFI? What better way to prepare? Count me in!

This October, the AFI Silver Theatre and Cultural Center presented a sold-out screening of Nosferatu X Radiohead. At the top of the screening, “Silents Synced” programmer Josh Frank took his place behind the podium to enlighten us as to what we were about to witness.

With “Silents Synced,” Frank has redubbed the traditional organ music of classic silent films with classic rock albums. For what purpose? To entertain the masses throughout and beyond the pandemic at low programmatic cost.

This is a romantic line of thought that does not functionally extend beyond the confines of the pandemic. Thanksgiving Weekend saw AMC Theaters’ second-highest total revenue day in their 104-year history. Movies are back, people. For both massive theater chains and small boutiques like those under Frank’s ownership in Austin, Texas.

Why Nosferatu? It was public domain. Why Radiohead? It was on his iPod.

Frank is not a director. He is a programmer. This was painfully obvious throughout the screening. He demonstrated little connection to the actual films he chose for “Silents Synced,” instead discussing how much he couldn’t stand the organ music playing behind many classic silents. How was Frank’s revelation-via-music presented in Nosferatu X Radiohead? In a curatorial fashion, you might think. Wrong. Apparently, Kid A and Amnesiac sounded just fine to him in reverse order. The entire screening felt like a first draft of a messy idea.

Worse, Frank has tampered with the integrity of the classics he claimed to revamp and uplift. Questionable motion graphics and coloring were sprinkled throughout the already-poor quality print of Nosferatu he inexplicably selected, especially considering that higher quality prints have been in the public domain since 2019. Frank shared that he modified the screentime of subtitles to create a better musical fit, but those editorial choices resulted in titles that remained onscreen for much too long or far too little time.

Why Radiohead agreed to let Josh Frank use their music royalty-free for this project is beyond me. I can admire a creative effort to refresh the classics in a new light, but not in such a sloppy, unoriginal fashion. “Silents Synced” feels like yet another example of a man failing upwards in the movie industry by presenting the work of others as his own with little appreciation for his predecessors.

I like Radiohead. I like Murnau’s Nosferatu. Together? Not so much.

**

Let’s flash forward several months.

To cut to the chase, Nosferatu is the movie of the year. Eggers was born for this. He’s proudly vocalized his unmatched dedication and personal connection to the source material, namely in an open letter to Critics Choice Awards members.

Unlike Herzog, Eggers draws on storylines from both Stoker and Murnau to craft his own authentic Transylvania. He successfully toes the line between homage and originality with this fresh interpretation—even if it’s just an excuse for him to cast Willem Dafoe as Prof. Albin Eberhart Von Franz, a variation on Stoker’s less occult-prone Abraham Van Helsing. 

Eggers pulled together an all-star ensemble to realize his nascent Nosferatu dreams—yes, he staged the play at seventeen years old. Nicholas Hoult always finds a way to shine in European period pieces. Bill Skarsgård is f*cking legendary as a sickly Count Orlok, particularly after consulting with an opera coach to lower his voice an octave. No, that menacing voice wasn’t digitally treated! An additional nod here to Damian Volpe, Supervising Sound Editor, and Stephen Little, Supervising Sound Editor, Dialogue. Orlok’s lurid tones boom, but they don’t overwhelm—occupying a perfectly villainous amount of space in the audio landscape.

Lily-Rose Depp emerged as a surprisingly successful casting choice on Eggers’ part. After a dismal run in HBO softcore porn letdown The Idol, I was not expecting a quality performance. But I’ll own up to my mistakes! Depp took clear cues from predecessors Greta Schröder and Isabelle Adjani and transformed the character of Ellen into an autonomous and multifaceted one. Under the direction of choreographer Marie-Gabrielle Rosie, her movements and paralyzing contortions are striking—evocative of Adjani’s performance in Possession.

The first thirty minutes of Nosferatu are pure fever dream material. In a year chock-full of poorly lit films and television shows, Eggers leans into classic period horror darkness and emerges glowing. Under the expert direction of longtime collaborator Jarin Blaschke, darkened shots are composed of rich black hues and silvery blues. It’s a stunning and terrifying take on traditional black-and-white sequences. Good job, gaffers!

Eggers and Blaschke’s masterful work with shadows invites additional dread. Skarsgård’s unkempt claws stretch in darkness across the town of Wisborg, Germany, breeding chaos and submission wherever they land. And, taking a cue from Spielberg’s playbook, Skarsgård primarily lives in these shadows for the first act of the film. Trust me, it’s worth the wait for the prosthetics reveal. 

These editorial choices are cemented by an eerie score from Björk collaborator and The Northman composer Robin Carolan. The ominous final movement of the film is destined for horror soundtrack infamy. I have a feeling it’ll be on repeat for a while.

Merry Christmas. Vampires are scary again.