Robert Eggers’ “Nosferatu” is a cryptic, beautiful and unsettling experience: transporting in the purest way. The writer-director of “The Witch,” “The Lighthouse” and “The Northman” is a rare filmmaker who seems capable of putting his modern consciousness aside when telling stories. There are no metaphors or analogies, only uncanny things that actually happen. Witches exist, curses and prophecies are real, and a vampire is a monster with the ability not just to shift shapes and drink blood but distort the fabric of reality through force of pure evil.
Eggers’s “Nosferatu” feels as if it’s being told by the vampire himself, or one of his victims. A low, rumbling, moaning sound is a constant presence on the soundtrack. The camera flies or drifts or floats towards castles, through hallways, and into rooms where people are tossing and turning in the grips of nightmares. A giant shadow falls across a painterly 19th century German and Eastern European landscapes that simultaneously look real and like miniatures.
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