Although Nosferatu is one of the most iconic horror figures of all time, I rarely meet anyone familiar with the original source material. Some people know the name from the Spongebob bit, others associate it with one of the countless indie song titles he’s claimed, and most seem to know him from the upcoming  Robert Eggers horror film, releasing December 25th. While I am excited about this new installment in the NCU (Nosferatu Cinematic Universe), and I believe Eggers is the perfect person for the job, my eagerness is tightly tethered to concern after watching the 1922 original, Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, and the 1979 Warner Herzog remake, Nosferatu: The Vampyre. To make a long story short, the story of Nosferatu is too long of a story that desperately needs to be shorter. From a narrative perspective, both films suffer from structural flaws, and in this article, I’ll explain why the Nosferatu story might not need to live forever.

The original Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, directed by Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau, is regarded as one of the best films ever created. It even made the Pope’s exclusive top forty-five films of all time list. With that said, Penicillin had yet to be invented, blimps were all the rage, and humans were just starting to watch feature-length films. I am all for the sanctity of classical art and the building blocks of innovation and blah blah blah, but bad writing is bad writing. As a society we already understood how to tell a story, and just because this one was made for the screen, doesn’t excuse its subplots that are void of resolution, its unearned climax, or its all-too-convenient narrative devices. If you’re unfamiliar with the plot of Nosferatu, here’s the gist. Yes, there are spoilers ahead; you had over one hundred years to watch this movie, get with it

Real estate agent, Thomas Hutter (Gustav v. Wangenheim), is summoned by his boss, Herr Knock (Alexander Granach), and tasked to sell the vacant house neighboring his own to a man named Count Orlok. Knock tasks Hutter with closing the deal, cue the Selling Sunsets’ season four main theme, and off Hutter goes into what translates to “The Country of Thieves and Ghosts.” Also, his wife, Ellen (Greta Schroder), is like, ‘don’t do that,’ and he sort of just aggressively kisses her. Hutter spends a bunch of time in a carriage and he also finds a book about a vampire named Nosferatu. Then he finds Count Orlok (Max Shreck) who seems an awful lot like Nosferatu. Orlok sucks on Hutter’s thumb a little, they strike a real-estate deal, and then Hutter wakes up with two cool new mosquito bites on his throat. Also, Ellen starts freaking out back home and having bad dreams, while Hutter gets given another nasty hickey by Count Orlok. 

If it isn’t clear by now, Count Orlok is in fact Nosferatu, and he packs up his coffins full of dirt using his super speed (I’m not being funny, that’s exactly what happens on screen). Hutter sees this and falls out a window rendering him lost and injured. Also, we catch up with Hutter’s boss who has gone insane for no real reason and there are rumors around town of a plague. Nosferatu zips over to Hutter’s hometown on a ship, and all the crew die, prompting the best line in the film “The Death Ship has a new Captain.” Hutter walks around… he does some more walking… Hutter keeps walking. Nosferatu finally arrives at his new property, phases through the door, and starts hard chilling in his coffin. Hutter arrives at the same time as Nosferatu, which begs the question: why so many freaking travel scenes? Also, we’re told that people keep dying from the Black Plague, but it’s really just the Vamp King hitting his macros. Then Ellen reads Hutter’s book on Nosferatu, realizes how to put an end to the chaos, and with her pure and untouched neck, lures Nosferatu into her room. All distracted, Nosferatu neglects to realize the sun’s risen and he bursts into flames. I guess Ellen was low-iron or something because she dies, which makes total sense considering Hutter had been milked from the start of the film but is still kicking, but whatever I guess. Oh, and Knock the boss is still crazy. The End.

I understand that’s a silly narrative summary, but I want to zero in on the film’s primary underlying failure: its use of Ellen. The climax of Nosferatu is completely dependent on Ellen; she is not only Nosferatu’s assassin, but her death also represents the film’s stakes. Despite her essential role, she is afforded less screen time than any other man in the movie. She is never given the proper space to develop a character, and when she finally dies, her sacrifice feels anticlimactic. The few scenes of Ellen that precede the climax characterize her as hysteric, but this single note isn’t ample sustenance to feed the entire apex of the film. This is especially frustrating when so many scenes are dedicated to the boss, Knock, who loses his marbles off-screen, teleports into a jail cell, and then just rants about his telepathic connection with Nosferatu. His character is never justified to begin with, and he never sees resolution either. In reference to a sweaty narrative principle, Chekov’s gun is never loaded, nor fired—it just sits on the wall rusting into something hard to look at. The film also depicts Hutter traveling for like soooooooooooooo long; close to the total amount of time Ellen spends on screen. 

So are any of these issues addressed in Herzog’s 1979 remake, Nosferatu: The Vampyre? The answer is, no, not really, he just misspelled vampire and hired incredibly wooden actors (except for Klaus Krinski, he is beautiful). Although there are some aesthetically pleasing Instagram reels that highlight the shot-for-shot accuracy of the two films, Herzog’s dedication to the original material only serves to draw out a broken narrative. The film feels clunky and almost camp—the pacing reminiscent of a still silent feature film.  Nosferatu: The Vampyre is evidence that Nosferatu can’t simply be updated with new visuals and maintain its prestige, it needs structural correction. I should note that Herzog’s remake does make one major non-aesthetic change: Hutter (Bruno Ganz) does transform into a vampire as a result of his bite. Ellen (Isabelle Adjani) still passes from her sacrifice and the final scene sees Hutter riding his horse into the fog cursed with eternal life and a dead wife. This one plot patch feels a touch more rewarding than the original conclusion, but nothing is done to advance Ellen’s character. As a result, the ending feels abrupt and unearned. 

My recommendation (and I know Eggers’ has been waiting eagerly for my two cents) is to have Ellen find the book on Nosferatu. Nosferatu’s backstory, his weaknesses, and effectively the entire plot direction is explained using a book that Hutter randomly stumbles across at an inn. The discovery is serendipitous, spoils any future surprises, and is inherently bad storytelling. What would make more sense, is if a nightmare-riddled Ellen went searching for information regarding her repeated disturbances and found the book tucked somewhere away in Knock’s office. This would not only justify Knock’s abrupt and dark shift in behavior, suggesting that Nosferatu and he were in cahoots the whole time, but would also give Ellen space to connect with the viewer as she contemplates her troubling decision. Her willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice is the most interesting part of the Nosferatu story, and this subtle shift would recenter the camera on what’s important. Also just cut down Hutter’s traveling scenes and the film should have plenty of space to spare.

Remaking Nosferatu definitely poses a challenge, but Robert Eggers is the perfect director for this film. He’s a master of slowburn gothic horror as proven with his three earlier films, The Lighthouse, The Witch, and The Northman, all of which aptly present enigmatic folklore dread through a lens of historical accuracy. I won’t know until I see the film, but my fears regarding the absence of Ellen in the earlier Nosferatu films also seem to be addressed. Eggers has cast the incredible Lily Rose-Depp as Ellen, and the plot synopsis describes her as the protagonist. The film’s IMDB reads, “A gothic tale of obsession between a haunted young woman and the terrifying vampire infatuated with her, causing untold horror in its wake.”  If this excerpt is true to Eggers’ film, Nosferatu might graduate from an archaic cinephilic penis-centric reference to Dracula, to a well-rounded horror masterpiece, driven by one of the most exciting burgeoning actresses.