Nosferatu: 2024 (Universal Pictures UK)
Reece Goscinski reviews the new remake of Nosferatu. This article contains plot spoilers for Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922), Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979), and Nosferatu (2024)
New Year’s Day saw the release of director Robert Eggers’ re-telling of Murnau’s 1922 silent film Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. A film that has cemented itself as a significant landmark in Western cinema, owing to its motifs of German Expressionism. While this is not the first adaptation of the Nosferatu tale, both the 1922 and 1979 versions carry significant political undercurrents, reflecting the anxieties and concerns of their respective eras.
The original 1922 film, a product of the Weimar Republic, not only reflected political concerns but also embodied the artistic expression of that era. Nosferatu, in this version, is portrayed as a foreign disrupter of the social order, bringing with him the plague and social chaos that mirrored the aftermath of World War I. Furthermore, some scholars have linked the character’s appearance to anti-Semitic tropes prevalent at the time, reflecting the ‘stab in the back’ conspiracy theories which assisted the Nazi’s rise to power.
The film was later remade by Werner Herzog in 1979, who, while acknowledging the original as ‘the greatest film ever to come out of Germany’, sought to reassess the story in the context of post-war Germany, a nation grappling with the aftermath of World War II and the division of the country. In this version, Klaus Kinski portrays an isolated and nihilistic Nosferatu, presented as both predator and victim, reflecting social confrontations with the nation’s past and present. Herzog’s Nosferatu delves into themes of guilt, isolation, and the enduring weight of history, mirroring the anxieties and uncertainties of post-war Germany. In one infamous scene, the heroine, Lucy (Isabelle Adjani), walks about a town devastated by the plague, only to be offered a place at the eating table of a former bourgeois family. This stark contrast highlights the collapse of social relations and the erosion of traditional hierarchies in the face of the impending apocalypse, a reflection of the social upheavals that followed Nosferatu’s arrival.
Eggers’ Nosferatu can be seen as reflecting American political anxieties, emerging from the shadow of a looming second Trump presidency, the perpetual threat of war, and ongoing cultural transitions. Whilst formulaic remakes of contemporary Hollywood blockbusters have become commonplace in the cultural dead end of late capitalism, Egger’s reimagining of the enduring tale transcends mere imitation.
Eggers’ Nosferatu: Alienation and Exploitation
The 2024 version of Nosferatu adheres to the foundational narrative of previous iterations while introducing significant deviations, refining plot points and reimagining key characters.
Eggers’s retelling centres on Ellen Hutter (Lily-Rose Depp), a young woman grappling with a unique affliction: vivid, precognitive visions and episodes of sleepwalking that allow her to traverse unseen dimensions. Confined by the patriarchal social norms of Victorian England, Ellen faces immense pressure to suppress these experiences, deemed irrational and unsettling by her family and the society she inhabits.
When reflecting on this later in the film, she explains to Von Frans (Wilhelm Defoe), an expert on the occult, that during this period, her father threatened to have her institutionalised after discovering her sleepwalking. This suppression, mirroring Marx’s concept of alienation, where individuals are estranged from their true selves and their authentic human potential, leaves Ellen feeling isolated and unheard. In a desperate plea for validation, she reaches out in her dreams, inadvertently summoning Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård). This act of desperation, born from a yearning for recognition, inadvertently binds her to the ancient vampire who possess her for his own sexualised ends. In this depiction, Orlok can be seen as a manifestation of Ellen’s alienation, produced by the social structures that suppress her authentic self. He preys upon her repressed desires, which are a product of the capitalist system that prioritises conformity and material gain over individual expression. Orlok is by no means a symbol of liberation, however, but rather an exploiter of her psychological needs for his own desires.
This bind is somewhat broken years later when Ellen agrees to marry Thomas Hutter (Nicolas Hoult), a young man yearning to fulfil the instrumental role expected of him. Thomas, embodying the ideological ideal of a provider, is presented with an opportunity to travel to the Carpathian mountains in order sell a property to Orlok in exchange for money and promotion. Ellen urges him not to go, but Thomas insists, driven by the need to fulfil his social role and provide for his wife. He assures Ellen she will be well-cared for by dock owner, Friedrich Harding (Aaron Taylor-Johnson). Thomas’s pursuit of wealth and social advancement see him align with cultural expectations of capitalism, further contributing to Ellen’s estrangement, which allows Orlok to re-obtain Ellen for himself.
Thomas’s journey to Orlok’s castle sees Eggers infuse the established tale with his distinctive blend of folkloric influences and masterful cinematography. The cinematography is immersive and captivating, utilising natural light to capture the darkness of the story and display the expansive landscapes. While seeking refuge amongst the Romanian peasantry, Thomas witnesses the locals dig up the grave of a suspected vampire and stake the corpse, echoing pre-Enlightenment practices and superstitions.
The presentation of Orlok himself, appearing as a Romanian nobleman, complete with a moustache and noble attire, deviates from the inhuman depictions presented in the 1922 and 1979 versions. Yet this image of Orlok as more clearly linked to medieval nobility adds an additional dimension to the narrative. During Thomas’s uncanny visit to the castle, Orlok demands that Hutter refer to him as ‘Lord’, given Hutter’s comparatively lower-class status. This introduces an element of class dynamics to the narrative, as Orlok’s emphasis on status allows him to see the world as his to manipulate. Whether it be bringing the plague upon the town of Wisborg, referring to his follower Knock as ‘a dog’ and slapping him, or utilising his wealth to induce Thomas to renege on his marriage in exchange for gold, Orlok uses his class status to exercise power over others with a disregard for their well-being. Unlike the more sympathetic and melancholic depiction of Nosferatu presented by Hertzog, Eggers’ Nosferatu is irredeemable, exploiting the social system and his supernatural powers to achieve his goals.
Once Orlok gains what he desires from Thomas, he sets sail for Wisborg, unleashing a plague upon the unsuspecting town as part of his plan to reclaim Ellen. Thomas, managing to escape the clutches of the castle and miraculously healed by nuns, also makes his way back to Wisborg to rescue his fiancé from the vampire.
The vampiric plague
Orlok’s arrival intensifies Ellen’s demonic convulsions, their frequency and severity increasing dramatically. During his first visit, Orlok coldly demands her submission, declaring that if she does not willingly yield to him within three days, the entire town will perish. Ellen, however, refuses to submit, accusing him of being incapable of love and relishing in her torment. Orlok agrees this charge, further revealing his indifference to human suffering and his perception of her as a commodity. This leaves Ellen trapped in a dilemma, facing the prospect of succumbing to two forms of possession: Orlok’s vampiric embrace or the suffocating constraints of Victorian society.
As the plague ravages the town, panic ensues. The medical establishment, reflecting the cold logic of capitalist efficiency, attempts to control Ellen’s increasingly erratic behaviour. Doctors restrain her further, tightening her corset and chaining her to the bed, reflecting bourgeois methods to control and suppress the working class, and mirroring tactics to maintain social order within the capitalist system. This physical restraint can be seen as an attack on Ellen’s bodily capital, physicians recognising the body as a source of labour and a site of social and economic control within capitalist societies. By controlling Ellen’s body, the medical establishment seeks to maintain social order and suppress any potential threat to the established power structures.
The contrast between Ellen’s yearning for freedom and Orlok’s desire for control is symbolically represented in the presence of cats and dogs. Both Ellen and Von Frans are characters seeking liberation from social constraints. Von Frans, for example, was dismissed from academia for his unconventional research that delved into the occult, deviating from the confines of scientific orthodoxy. Within the homes of both these characters, cats can be found. In one exchange, Ellen, admiring her cat, states, ‘She has no master and no mistress’. This observation highlights the feline’s independence and freedom, contrasting sharply with the capitalistic modes of control, where Ellen is expected to conform to social norms within a sexual and domestic sphere.
By contrast, Nosferatu is accompanied by obedient wolves which chase Thomas around the castle at his behest and later overrun the town following the arrival of the plague. These wolves, symbolic of Orlok’s absolute control, embody his desire to subjugate and dominate, mirroring hierarchical social orders.
As the plague intensifies and possessions become more frequent, Ellen begins to assert herself, challenging the structures that have restrained her. Confronted with the indifference of the Harding family, who have been caring for her in Thomas’s absence while showing little concern for her distress, Ellen boldly challenges Harding, demanding to know, ‘Why have you always hated me?’ This newfound assertiveness extends to her confrontation with Thomas. When Harding sends the Hutters home, she confronts him, demanding to know why he reneged on their engagement, exchanging their love for commodities and gold, a transaction he now regrets.
As Ellen’s agency grows, she realises that the only way to break free from the grip of both Orlok and the capitalist system that seeks to control her is to embrace a radical act of defiance. She chooses to confront Orlok on her own terms, offering herself to him in an attempt to hold him until sunrise. By embracing her own agency and subverting the expected role of the helpless victim, Ellen seeks to seize control of her own destiny, even if it means a shared demise with the vampire, ultimately breaking free from the constraints imposed upon her by both the supernatural and the social forces that have confined her.
Conclusion
Eggers’ 2024 Nosferatu reimagines the classic tale as a potent critique of Victorian society and the enduring forces of capitalism. By centring Ellen’s journey of self-discovery and resistance, the film explores themes of female agency, social oppression, and the destructive consequences of unchecked power. These themes are similar to those explored in Eggers’ The Witch (2015), where Thomasin, stifled by the rigid patriarchal and religious constraints of her Puritan family, ultimately asserts her agency by embracing the power of the witch.
Ellen’s struggle against the constraints imposed by Victorian society, her confrontation with Orlok’s predatory nature, and her ultimate act of defiance against both the vampire and the patriarchal order that seeks to confine her, offer a powerful commentary on the enduring struggle for individual freedom and the ongoing fight against oppressive systems.
The film further highlights how capitalism, intertwined with patriarchal structures, exploits and alienates individuals. Ellen’s experience mirrors the struggles of many who are marginalised by the capitalist system, forced to conform to rigid social roles and denied their true potential. The rise of reactionary ideologies, such as the ‘trad wife’ or the Femosphere movement, which seek to reinforce traditional gender roles and undermine social progress, can be seen as an attempt to reassert capitalist control and maintain existing power structures.
Nosferatu 2024 serves as a timely reminder of the dangers of these regressive movements and the importance of continuing to fight for gender equality, social justice, and the liberation of individuals from the constraints of capitalist exploitation.
Nosferatu 2024 emerges as a chilling and thought-provoking reimagining of a classic tale, offering a contemporary reflection on themes of alienation, exploitation, and the enduring human struggle for liberation.
