The bloody tale of Nosferatu the Vampire is almost as old as cinema itself. F.W. Murnau’s 1922 film Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror was one of the medium's first ripoffs, liberally "borrowing" elements from the story of Bram Stoker's 1897 novel Dracula. A German court ordered that all prints of the film were to be destroyed on the grounds of copyright infringement. But just as you can never kill the darkness that births such bloodthirsty creatures, you can't kill a true work of art. Count Dracula and Count Orlok have been joined at the hip in the century since, receiving film adaptations from luminaries such as Tod Browning (Dracula, 1931), Werner Herzog (Nosferatu the Vampyre, 1979), and Francis Ford Coppola (Bram Stoker's Dracula, 1992). Writer/director Robert Eggers combines all of those productions into his remake/readaptation, crafting what could/should become not just the definitive text for this specific story, but for all stories within the subgenre of vampirism. 

A literal deal with the devil is made in the film's cold opening. Both out of fear and desire, our young heroine Ellen Hutter (Lily-Rose Depp) beckons for a spirit to come to her. The silhouette of the creature projects through the billowing curtain of her bedroom, leading her to the lawn for a violent sexual encounter. Years pass, with nary a word spoken to anyone about what she experienced that night. Every day seems to be a dream, and every night contains a violently vivid nightmare. Those episodes, as well as her curse of foresight, are labeled as "melancholy" and "woman's sickness" by the male doctors in her German town. Her fiancé Thomas (Nicholas Hoult) is blankly compassionate, yet emotionally oblivious to her situation.

The character of Ellen is given more agency in Eggers' adaptation, something that Depp accepts with ease. She has the figure of a porcelain doll, perpetually in a state of cracking from the pressure that the demon exerts on her. And when she does finally break, it's into a million pieces, her body contorting, blood pouring out her eyes and mouth, and vocal inflections taking on a sinister tone. Between the likes of Demi Moore, Naomi Scott, and Cailee Spaeny, the bar for horror performances has been continually raised throughout the year. But Depp has crashed the party and surpassed all of them in a turn that should finally shut the doubters up.

Until that climax, Ellen is the voice of reason in a sea of "respectable" men all ready to stick up their noses and tell her to know her place. None of them see the darkness that is swallowing them whole, that is until it's right in front of them in the grotesque form that is Bill Skarsgård's Count Orlok. This vampire doesn't seduce with his looks, his skin a sickly grey and fingers sharp as claws. His deep voice bellows throughout the auditorium, and his heavy Eastern European accent illustrates his century-spanning life.

Thanks to his job as a real estate clerk requiring him to travel to Transylvania and meet the count, Thomas is the first of the men to realize what's really at stake. You can almost hear (and definitely feel) the ear-to-ear grin Eggers wore throughout the filming of these initial meeting scenes. The enthusiasm he has in recreating such iconic movie moments is infectious, the top-tier craftsmanship making sure the effort can't be simply excused as a pale imitation. Cinematographer Jarin Blashke, DP on all of Eggers' films, paints every frame in expressionistic shadows, instilling a ghoulish atmosphere that immediately communicates that no heart beats for too long in this place. The frequent lighting from a background fireplace means that much of the foreground is dimly lit, keeping the facts that would ease our fearfully wandering minds just out of reach.

That level of authenticity to the production also extends to Eggers' take on this story, which is more deeply rooted in the mythology of vampirism rather than the Hollywood lore we've become accustomed to. The village buried deep in the woods below Orlok's castle regularly performs rituals and sacrifices to ward off the beast. Prof. Albin Eberhart von Franz (Willem Dafoe appearing in his third film for Eggers) is the expert on the situation back in Germany, although his methods are a bit unorthodox.

Apart from those eccentricities, this is a very familiar story, with Eggers making no alterations to the story beats. One could wish that he had been a little more liberal with the details, treating them more as a jumping-off point rather than scripture. Then again, his unwavering devotion reminds us of the power that the classics still possess. How can you be mad at the chef when he makes the best possible version of a well-worn recipe?