Back in the fall of 2012, I was still a single father of a six-year-old boy, and one of the easiest downtime activities to do back then was take him to the movies – that year’s ParaNorman was one of many we made it out to. So thirteen years later when my-now grown son expressed wanting to go see the 3D re-release with his old man again (with his girlfriend along for the ride this time too, of course), I couldn’t say “no.”
The original film centers around an 11-year old social outcast named Norman (Kodi Smit-McPhee) who is misunderstood by his family and bullied by his peers for his strange and unusual behaviors – he can see and talk to ghosts that others around him cannot. But things change once the dead starts rising from their literal graves and scaring the locals.
With the help of his goofy best friend Neil (Tucker Albrizzi), his self-centered older sister Courtney (Anna Kendrick), the school bully (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), and Neil’s older jock brother Mitch (Casey Affleck), Norman must stop the zombies roaming the town, while also uncover their secrets that ultimately lead to their arrival to begin with.
The new short film, The Thrifting, finds Norman, Neil, and Courtney (Anna Kendrick once again in the only returning voice role) attempting to locate a Halloween costume in a dark and desolate second hand store that has some built-in permanent ghostly residents. Finn Wolfhard of Stranger Things fame also lends his voice as the store clerk in this entry.
Flyer for the all-new ParaNoman short film, The Thrifting.
All in all, each film in the ParaNorman universe is harmless family entertainment and fun in their own ways; the world needs more films like them right now.
A demonic, shadowy figure spreads doom, despair, and death upon a 19th-century German town. The story of Nosferatu originates from Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel Dracula, which set the stage for all vampire lore and mythology to follow. Along with Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel Frankenstein, two of the horror genre’s greatest monsters were created.
The 1922 silent film Nosferatu was my gateway into German Expressionist films of the 1920s, which included The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), The Golem (1920), and Faust (1926), among others. The golden age of German cinema culminated with Fritz Lang’s epic sci-fi masterpiece Metropolis (1927) and his equally brilliant mystery thriller M (1931), starring Peter Lorre.
This period of innovation and landmark filmmaking ended upon the collapse of the Weimar Republic and the rise of the Nazi Party, which subsequently turned the film industry into a propaganda machine for their twisted goals.
As an unofficial film adaptation of Bram Stoker’s famous novel, Nosferatu was accused of copyright infringement by the Stoker estate. German courts ruled all copies to be destroyed, but several prints survived. It remains one of the most influential horror films of all time.
2024’s Nosferatu embarks as a tribute to the original silent film and Expressionist filmmaking. The familiar story of Dracula is told through a landscape of dreamlike visuals, fantastic settings, foreboding doom, and grotesque imagery. Unfortunately, it fails to realize its potential as a memorable Gothic horror film.
Director Robert Eggers delivers grandness to this obvious passion project. There’s no doubt he’s a talented filmmaker. His eye for authenticity in set design, costumes, and dialogue is admirable and immersive. I liked The Witch (2015) but never saw The Northman (2022). And I’m not a fan of The Lighthouse (2019).
Ultimately, I was taken with Nosferatu’s style, atmosphere, and darkness, but something didn’t quite add up. Its deliberate pacing and attention to detail should have left little room for confusion, whereas Eggers does exactly that.
His attempts to bring something new gloss over pivotal details and turn Nosferatu into a tale of possession, obsession, and psychic connections. Aside from muddled character motivations, the plot unfolds conventionally in the fictional 19th-century town of Wisborg, Germany.
Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult), newlywed husband to Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp), is summoned to a remote castle in Transylvania by his employer Herr Knock (Simon McBurney) to finalize a real estate transaction with the mysterious Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård). Herr Knock (aka Reinfeld) is actually a devoted servant to the Count, aiding him in his menacing quest.
After an arduous journey, Hutter finds himself captive in Orlok’s castle unable to warn his wife of impending doom. The Count purchases property in Wisborg after seeing a small portrait of Ellen on her husband’s locket. He then travels by ship with coffins of cursed earth and unleashes a plague of disease-ridden rats upon the unsuspecting town.
Hutter escapes, returns home, and finds his wife in the throes of demonic possession. A sympathetic doctor, Dr. Wihelm Sievers (Ralph Ineson), can’t determine what’s wrong with her. They then enlist the aid of disgraced Professor Albin Eberhart Von Franz (Willem Dafoe) to save Ellen and stop Count Orlok before it’s too late.
Hutter and Von Franz are, of course, based on Jonathan Harker and Dr. Abraham Van Helsing from Stoker’s novel, and the film reuses most of the names from its 1922 predecessor which changed them to avoid similarities to Stoker’s novel. Dafoe also naturally stands out, bringing some much-needed warmth and humor.
Perhaps the greatest treat is the depiction of Count Orlok famously played by Max Shreck in the original. Skarsgård’s portrayal may be polarizing, but it completely worked for me. His deep, menacing voice, thick accent, labored breathing, and guttural growls were jarring and fascinating to behold.
Largely shot within shadows, Orlok looks the part of a repulsive and immortal recluse from the Carpathian Mountains, replete with decayed skin, long, claw-like hands, and a thick mustache. Keeping his appearance a secret from the trailers and movie posters was also a genius stroke in advertising, as his brooding, mysterious presence carries the film.
This is no romanticized vampire tale either. As an ominous prophet of doom, Orlok embodies pure evil and leaves behind a wasteland of apocalyptical horror in his wake. Scenes of a desolate, disease-ridden Wisborg are chilling and harken back to the profound bleakness brilliantly captured in Werner Herzog’s 1979 remake, Nosferatu the Vampyre. There are also lots of rats, so consider yourself warned.
Nosferatu’s tragic tale of sacrifice lives on in an effectively dark and sinister reimagining. Though it’s not a movie without flaws. Those expecting a conventional big-budget horror experience might be disappointed. Random jump scares employed throughout worked on the audience but mostly annoyed me.
The results make one long for the visual splendor, excitement, and coherence of Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992), which remains a modern-day classic, in my opinion.
Conversely, the movie’s trappings could also be its strong points. If Eggers had simply remade Nosferatu, emulated Coppola’s vision, or modernized the story to make it more accessible, it would be something else. It wouldn’t be art in all its confounding glory.
