This article contains mild spoilers for "Nosferatu".

There's a lot to look forward to in Robert Eggers' Nosferatu. If you're familiar with previous film incarnations of Dracula, vampire films in general, Eggers' filmography, or some combination of all three, then you won't necessarily be surprised by everything in the film. There's plenty of gore, a palpable sense of dread, an authenticity of time and place, and a psychosexual relationship between the vampire Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård) and his victims—all aspects that a prior knowledge of vampire films and Eggers' work should prepare you for.

However, part of the joy that comes with following the work of a true author is seeing how much they can still surprise you while staying true to their quirks and quirks. Nosferatu is as undeniably an Eggers film as it is a quintessential vampire film, and yet it's honestly a little shocking how fresh and vivid it feels. Yes, some of this is probably due to how inundated with vampires we are in the media - even a little zig where we expect a zag is enough to grab attention - but the eagerness with which the director attacks this material has to be seen to be believed. , especially when it comes to how scary the movie is. After all, we're pretty used to vampires at this point in pop culture, so how could they be so scary again?

The answer, of course, lies in craft and presentation, two things at which Robert Eggers excels. The way Skarsgård films the film, along with the other filmmaking techniques and elements he uses, combine to make "Nosferatu" one of the scariest vampire movies ever made.

By far one of the most surprising, fascinating and even shocking aspects of Nosferatu is the way Skarsgård's Count Orlok is performed and presented. This, of course, is in keeping with Nosferatu tradition, as the original film by F.W. The 1922 Murnau (based unofficially on Bram Stoker's novel Dracula) featured the actor Max Schreck portraying Orlok in makeup the actor designed himself, which is still remarkably effective and chilling more than a century later. Shrek's presence is further enhanced by the many rumors and unanswered questions about him that persist to this dayurban legends that lead to fictional acceptance 2000's Shadow of the Vampire, a film that posits the idea that Shrek was an actual creature of the night hired by Murnau on the sly.

In a letter written by Eggers to the members of Critics Choicethe director went into some detail about how he, Skarsgård and his collaborators like costume designer Linda Muir and prosthetic makeup designer David White helped make their Orlok just as creepy and weird by giving him a "folk vamp look." As Eggers described:

"Bill Skarsgård's Count Orlok is the first time Dracula has been portrayed as a vampire of folklore - a walking corpse, more zombie-like in appearance - and the first time he has been dressed as a Transylvanian nobleman."

That aesthetic and its collision of the horrific with the banal is what makes this Orlok so disturbing. He is at once an eternal being of myth and the supernatural, while in his place and time; a presence that cannot be ignored or easily dismissed. In addition to the makeup (including a large kidney mustache that only helps to further hide the actor's boyish looks), Skarsgård reportedly worked with an operatic vocal coach to lower his voice an octave. This is, for my money, the most transformative performance by a famous actor since Robert De Niro in Raging Bull and the overall effect it has on the viewer hits right in the uncanny valley. We know who it is, but we can't recognize it, and that puts us right where the filmmakers want us to be.

Perhaps Eggers' most obvious, yet highly effective trick seen in Nosferatu is the way he uses his camera. Even a first-time, cursory viewing of the film allows anyone to appreciate how long Eggers, cinematographer Jarin Blaschke, and editor Louise Ford hold numerous shots. This technique establishes one of the main themes of the film, which is the way Orlok and vampirism have an effect on the human psyche that is dreamlike, blurring the line between dreams and reality. That is the film's most important connection with A Nightmare on Elm Street by Wes Craven. which features similar scenes of characters appearing to be dreaming only to hint that the events actually happened (or vice versa).

In other words, Nosferatu is a waking nightmare, and Eggers wants to keep the audience trapped in this nightmare along with his protagonists. The director states in his aforementioned letter that these "long continuous tracking shots" required help not only from the camera department, but also from the lighting department (for the candles that illuminate many of the scenes) and production designer Craig Lathrop, who had to make sure the sets are wild (again: movable) to accommodate the camera sliding through and around the space. This choice has an added effect on the nightmarish as well, as many shots (especially those involving the trip to Orlok Castle in Transylvania) fly through space as if from a first-person point of view. Whose POV this represents is a debatable point, suffice it to say that ultimately, it's the audience's POV that makes the act of watching Nosferatu an experience. Eggers doesn't completely break the fourth wall, but there's no doubt that we are part of his film.

From the most noticeable technique to the subtle: "Nosferatu" is a film shot in color, but still has a distinctly monochrome palette. Every set designed by Eggers and Lathrop seems to be colored and coordinated to subtly suck color out of everything, even before Count Orlock arrives in Germany. Of course, this is partly because Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp) is our main character, and Orlok has been stalking, courting, and harassing her for years before the story begins. Another reason for the look is that it evokes both the classic Murnau silent film and the 19th century in general, or at least our collective unconscious version of that period, given our cultural associative shorthand between the past and black and white.

Above those reasons is the fact that this palette enhances the effects of the previous two aspects of the film. It further adds to the uncanny valley of Orlok and the film itself, literally playing tricks on our eyes as we watch the film. It also heightens the dream-like nature of the film, giving some viewers the false impression that the film was actually shot in black and white, making the memory of its images tainted and far less reliable. Like the master of horror that he is, Eggers deftly combines the genre's more expected features—musical stabs, jumps, aggressive sound design, historical performances, and plenty of gore—with these subtler, more disturbing elements. The overall effect this has is that when the sting of the film's expected horror elements has faded, the insidious subtle aspects continue to unsettle.

Finally, the choice to film in color with barely any emphasis on color helps the film's other hero besides Elen - daylight, which is the only thing that can defeat Orlok. Eggers appropriately lingers on sunlit scenes until the very end of the film, even candlelight not enough to dispel the darkness completely. With this and all of his craft on display, Nosferatu becomes as rich an experience as one could hope for in a horror film, one that scares just as well on the first watch as it does on repeat viewings.