Review By Liam Herschall — NewsTime News

Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is a masterwork of gothic horror that channels the spirit of Murnau’s silent classic while carving its own harrowing path through the shadows of the genre. Every frame drips with atmospheric dread, and Willem Dafoe’s unholy presence as Count Orlok is nothing short of mesmerizing. His skeletal gestures and otherworldly snarls make the viewer feel as though they’re staring directly into the abyss—and the abyss has very bad dental hygiene. Yet, as I marveled at the oppressive visuals and Eggers’ meticulous attention to detail, I found myself struck by one glaring omission: at no point does the film explore what it would be like if these vampires attended high school.

The production design is, in a word, immaculate. Every cobblestone street and flickering lantern feels painstakingly authentic, transporting the viewer to the cursed port town of Wisborg. The mist rolls thick, the shadows are alive, and the townsfolk look like they haven’t slept since 1863. And yet—what if one of these vampires had to navigate the halls of a high school, blending in while thirsting for blood during gym class? I couldn’t help but wonder how Count Orlok might handle a pop quiz or an awkward cafeteria encounter where someone tries to trade their fruit cup for his eternal soul. These are the questions Eggers stubbornly refuses to address.

The performances, particularly from Lily-Rose Depp and Bill Skarsgård, are emotionally raw and utterly captivating. Depp’s portrayal of the ill-fated Ellen channels an ethereal vulnerability, while Skarsgård brings an unsettling charm as the doomed Hutter. Though, as I watched their characters succumb to supernatural forces beyond their control, I couldn’t stop yearning for the subplot the movie inherently promised us with its vampire subject matter; one where Orlok uses his vampire powers to win the school talent show. I mean, could you imagine him in the audience, politely clapping with those claws after a subpar acoustic guitar rendition of “Wonderwall” only to come through and easily rip through a killer violin solo that’s easy for him?

Perhaps my disappointment reached its peak during the climactic showdown. It’s a scene of pure terror, with Dafoe’s Orlok skulking through a moonlit hallway, his silhouette a nightmare made flesh. But all I could think was: what if this hallway led to a locker room instead of a dilapidated manor? What if Orlok’s prom date was in there crying because he couldn’t attend the day lit photo shoot before prom, but then he glides in and has to decide if he tells her he’s a vampire to make up for being late to prom? These are the stakes that Eggers seems uninterested in raising, and frankly, it’s a disservice to the long upheld traditions of the vampire genre.

In conclusion, Nosferatu (2024) is a triumph of gothic horror, a chilling tale brought to life with artistry and passion. But its refusal to even consider what it might look like if a vampire had to give a book report on The Scarlet Letter or dodge bullies in a high school hallway is a glaring oversight. For that, I must deduct one and a half stars.

3.5/5 stars. Eggers is a genius, but next time, let’s see a vampire struggling to fit in at Spirit Week.

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