Watching paint dry would be preferable to enduring this turgid, overcooked slog.
In fairness, writer/director Robert Eggers gets points for atmosphere. Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke definitely maximizes the eerie settings concocted by production designer Craig Lathrop. (That said, much of the film is too damn dark.)
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| Professor Albin Eberhart Von Franz (Willem Dafoe) and Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp) eventually realize that particularly drastic measures will be required, if they're to have any chance of defeating the vampire in their midst. |
That affectation undoubtedly was intended to sound scary, but Eggers misses “scary” by a Carpathian mile.
His film has an intriguing legacy. 1922’s Nosferatu was plagiarized from Bram Stoker’s Dracula; director F.W. Murnau and scripter Henrik Galeen stole the plot and characters, changing names and relocating the story to their native Germany, in order to evade copyright issues. The ploy didn’t work; Stoker’s heirs sued, and the court ruled that all copies of the film be destroyed.
They missed a few, and Murnau’s film now is deservedly hailed as an early silent masterpiece that birthed the horror genre; the appearance of star Max Schreck’s Count Orlok also established a template for vampire makeup.
Aside from the numerous legitimate adaptations of Stoker’s novel during the subsequent century, Nosferatu was remade by director Werner Herzog in 1979, with Klaus Kinski as the title vampire. Francis Ford Coppola’s handling of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, in 1992, also tipped a fang to Murnau.
Eggers’ new film borrows from all of the above, while focusing mostly on Murnau’s setting and characters. Eggers also employs shadows, often of a menacing hand, just as Murnau did. And, as befits our modern era, this film more explicityly emphasizes the lurid sexual eroticism that fuels much of the vampire mythos.
The story opens in the early 19th century German port community of Wisborg, where estate agent Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult) is selected by his somewhat peculiar boss, Herr Knock (Simon McBurney), to obtain a contract with the reclusive Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård). The latter wishes to leave his Transylvanian castle, and relocate to Wisborg.
Why?
Because — years earlier, when she was younger — Thomas’ new bride, Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp), somehow “awakened” the long-dormant Orlok during a nighttime fit of melancholia.
Eggers doesn’t try to explain this weird detail; suffice to say, during the film’s brief prologue, it involves a good deal of epileptic-style thrashing about by the barely dressed Depp.
Hoult gives this film’s sole credible performance, as the progressively overwhelmed Thomas. After a long journey on horseback, he’s first confronted by the frightened villagers who live at the base of Orlok’s castle, and warn him to go no further; he nonetheless proceeds, to his regret. As time passes — confined in the castle by day, and malevolently assaulted each night, with twin punctures left on his chest — Thomas begins to doubt his sanity. Hoult’s expression and bearing display sheer terror.
Back in Wisborg, with her husband absent, Ellen’s writhing, moaning fits return each night ... much to the chagrin of the good friends, Friedrich and Anna (Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Emma Corrin), with whom she’s staying. They summon town physician Dr. Wilhelm Sievers (Ralph Ineson), who in turn seeks the counsel of the brilliant but professionally “struck down” Professor Albin Eberhart Von Franz (Willem Dafoe).
He has since become an expert in the occult ... and, particularly, vampires.
Dafoe chews through his role as this Van Helsing surrogate with over-the-top gusto, evoking the flip side of his Oscar-nominated performance in 2001’s Shadow of the Vampire. (Nor can we forget his similarly outré work in last year’s equally weird Poor Things.) Dafoe is entertaining, in a burlesque sort of way, but his performance feels like it belongs in a different film.
The subsequent story arc has become tedious via familiarity. Ellen is progressively possessed by Orlok’s spirit, and Von Franz knows precisely what is happening; alas, Friedrich refuses to believe him, even as matters become increasingly horrific. (And I do mean horrific; Eggers doesn’t stint on ghastly awfulness.)
Dr. Sievers is more open-minded, but takes awhile to come around. Ineson’s quietly intelligent performance is a welcome relief, compared to Dafoe.
Meanwhile, Herr Knock has turned into a gibbering, rat- and dove-devouring lunatic who becomes the Renfield to Orlok’s vampire. The latter has come to Germany via ship, which arrives with the entire crew dead, and the vessel infested with rats that quickly turn Wisborg into a plague city. (As if the vampire isn’t bad enough, right?)
Skarsgård’s Orlok is a massive, towering presence, glimpsed only briefly — a taloned hand, the hooked nose, a looming shadow — during most of the film. When finally revealed in full grotesque glory, he’s a terrifying figure who resembles a radiation blast victim, with scars, scabs and bones poking beneath the skin. Makeup designer Traci Loader certainly deserves an Oscar nomination.
But again, Orlok’s presence is atmospheric, like Lathrop’s impeccably envisioned Wisborg. The film remains undead, thanks to the leaden pacing, wheezy line deliveries, screaming close-ups, and Eggers’ insufferably exaggerated, Sturm und Drang theatrical touches.
Several theater patrons laughed derisively, more than once, during a recent screening ... and their reactions were wholly justified.
Leave this one to rot in its coffin.
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