Evil is the plague of desire, heartache etched across time and space, in Robert Egger’s immaculately constructed gothic horror, Nosferatu. A remake that leans on this classical haunt’s impressionistic terrors as much as it engages in a century-long conversation with the story itself, mining the treasured material for new macabre corners to exploit and desecrate, Nosferatu is an artisanal implosion of Egger’s unholy but exacting storytelling sensibilities. The craft is front and center in Egger’s frigidly cold, knottily twisted reimagining of this vampiric tragedy: Jarin Blaschke’s moonlit, candle-flickering cinematography lures you into the shadows; Craig Lathrop’s meticulously haunted set designs create a tension between the living and the dead, the opulent and the otherworldly; and composer Robin Carolan’s deliciously unnerving score binds the film’s horrors into a single unholy hymn, deepening the dread that Egger’s impeccable craft brings to life. What prevails is a singular vision of demented yearning and moral corruption where you don’t dare look away from the screen for an instant—for fear of being seduced by Nosferatu’s spell—or perhaps because you already have been. Read More