DingerMcSlapshot
Registered User
- Dec 1, 2017
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Original what?That's odd because it is almost point for point a remake of the original?
Original what?That's odd because it is almost point for point a remake of the original?
Nosferatu. There's a bit more meat on the bones (and obviously some of the sexual subtext in the original just becomes text now), but the plot is almost 1 for 1.Original what?
Why change the subtext then? Change just some of the names. Straight ass steal scenes from previous movies. Cast Depp just to flash titles. What a horrible performance. Imho it was walk out of Theater bad.Nosferatu. There's a bit more meat on the bones (and obviously some of the sexual subtext in the original just becomes text now), but the plot is almost 1 for 1.
Why change the names?Why change the subtext then? Change just some of the names. Straight ass steal scenes from previous movies. Cast Depp just to flash titles. What a horrible performance. Imho it was walk out of Theater bad.
Nosferatu (dir. Robert Eggers, 2024)
Sometimes, style isn’t enough to save a film. Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is undeniably a technical marvel—a showcase of gothic production design, chilling cinematography, and a moody atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a stake. But beneath the surface of this highly polished reimagining lies a hollow experience, one that struggles to justify its existence beyond its aesthetic appeal. A real bore and a stinker if I've ever seen one.
Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok is creepy, sure, but his performance feels more like a collection of sinister stares and a laughable accent than a fully fleshed-out character. Lily-Rose Depp, as Ellen, spends most of her screen time looking terrified or melancholic, and while Nicholas Hoult’s Thomas has moments of intrigue, he’s saddled with a script that gives him little to do beyond react to the chaos around him. For a film so rooted in obsession and desire, the emotional core is shockingly thin.
Eggers’ love for the original Nosferatu and his devotion to atmospheric horror are clear, but the film lacks urgency. It’s a slow, brooding crawl that seems to confuse “deliberate pacing” with “dragging its feet.” The dialogue often feels stilted, and the narrative leans heavily on tropes that, while iconic in the 1922 original, now feel dated without significant reinterpretation.
There are glimmers of brilliance—the film’s eerie visual language is unforgettable. But the balance between reverence for the source material and offering something new tips too far toward the former. Instead of reinventing Nosferatu for a modern audience, Eggers delivers a film that feels like a shadow of what it could have been.
In the end, Nosferatu is a film that’s more admirable than enjoyable. It’s beautiful to look at, but that beauty comes at the expense of depth and engagement. Proof that if you have nothing new to add, don't touch the classics.
Nosferatu (dir. Robert Eggers, 2024)
Sometimes, style isn’t enough to save a film. Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is undeniably a technical marvel—a showcase of gothic production design, chilling cinematography, and a moody atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a stake. But beneath the surface of this highly polished reimagining lies a hollow experience, one that struggles to justify its existence beyond its aesthetic appeal. A real bore and a stinker if I've ever seen one.
Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok is creepy, sure, but his performance feels more like a collection of sinister stares and a laughable accent than a fully fleshed-out character. Lily-Rose Depp, as Ellen, spends most of her screen time looking terrified or melancholic, and while Nicholas Hoult’s Thomas has moments of intrigue, he’s saddled with a script that gives him little to do beyond react to the chaos around him. For a film so rooted in obsession and desire, the emotional core is shockingly thin.
Eggers’ love for the original Nosferatu and his devotion to atmospheric horror are clear, but the film lacks urgency. It’s a slow, brooding crawl that seems to confuse “deliberate pacing” with “dragging its feet.” The dialogue often feels stilted, and the narrative leans heavily on tropes that, while iconic in the 1922 original, now feel dated without significant reinterpretation.
There are glimmers of brilliance—the film’s eerie visual language is unforgettable. But the balance between reverence for the source material and offering something new tips too far toward the former. Instead of reinventing Nosferatu for a modern audience, Eggers delivers a film that feels like a shadow of what it could have been.
In the end, Nosferatu is a film that’s more admirable than enjoyable. It’s beautiful to look at, but that beauty comes at the expense of depth and engagement. Proof that if you have nothing new to add, don't touch the classics.
Nosferatu (dir. Robert Eggers, 2024)
Sometimes, style isn’t enough to save a film. Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is undeniably a technical marvel—a showcase of gothic production design, chilling cinematography, and a moody atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a stake. But beneath the surface of this highly polished reimagining lies a hollow experience, one that struggles to justify its existence beyond its aesthetic appeal. A real bore and a stinker if I've ever seen one.
Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok is creepy, sure, but his performance feels more like a collection of sinister stares and a laughable accent than a fully fleshed-out character. Lily-Rose Depp, as Ellen, spends most of her screen time looking terrified or melancholic, and while Nicholas Hoult’s Thomas has moments of intrigue, he’s saddled with a script that gives him little to do beyond react to the chaos around him. For a film so rooted in obsession and desire, the emotional core is shockingly thin.
Eggers’ love for the original Nosferatu and his devotion to atmospheric horror are clear, but the film lacks urgency. It’s a slow, brooding crawl that seems to confuse “deliberate pacing” with “dragging its feet.” The dialogue often feels stilted, and the narrative leans heavily on tropes that, while iconic in the 1922 original, now feel dated without significant reinterpretation.
There are glimmers of brilliance—the film’s eerie visual language is unforgettable. But the balance between reverence for the source material and offering something new tips too far toward the former. Instead of reinventing Nosferatu for a modern audience, Eggers delivers a film that feels like a shadow of what it could have been.
In the end, Nosferatu is a film that’s more admirable than enjoyable. It’s beautiful to look at, but that beauty comes at the expense of depth and engagement. Proof that if you have nothing new to add, don't touch the classics.