NOSFERATU

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Robert Eggers Digs His Own Grave

By Cole Smithey

If you've seen Robert Eggers's excellent film "The Lighthouse," then you should have high expectations for how Eggers could approach the well-worn story of Irish novelist Bram Stoker's 1897 Gothic horror novel "Dracula."

Sadly, you will be disappointed.

"The Lighthouse" is everything that "Nosferatu" is not — suspenseful, and dark in a terrifyingly human way.

There's not much humanity in this plot-crammed and poorly written "Nosferatu."

Eggers's inspiration arrives via Henrik Galeen's 1925 German expressionist script for F.W. Murnau's groundbreaking if politically problematic silent movie, considering its obvious racist underpinnings.

Overworked and under-edited, Robert Eggers's "Nosferatu" is not without its charms. Lily Rose Depp is a revelation in her exotic role as Ellen Hunter, a young, horny, nubile woman who offers herself up to the universe to be devoured by whatever form (alien, human, evil or otherwise) that comes through her open window.

Careful what you wish for.

A sleepy first act finally gives way to a late reveal of the monster. To be clear, Nosferatu is a hook-nosed freak of nature non-human creature, well except for his exposed penis.

Yes, "Peenee on set" was announced during the filming of the scene where Bill Skarsgård's Nosferatu shows up very nude, and sporting the most ridiculous mustache you've ever seen. 

This Nosferatu gives mustache rides. Now that's scary. Beauty and the beast indeed. Unlike Bela Lugosi's Dracula, this vampire is no charmer. Zero sex appeal on display.

"Nosferatu" is visually stunning but the screenwriting is not up to snuff by a lot.

Eggers is so obsessed with ticking off a checklist of details culled from every vampire movie ever made that he ties himself up. He employs tropes rather than imbuing the story with novel meaning. The movie goes so far as to throw in a gratuitous Exorcist scene that stumbles.

Werner Herzog's "Nosferatu The Vampyre" (1997) is a far superior to Eggers's film in every way. Herzog's movie is simply told in a hyper stylized yet sparse setting where fear and suspense breed.

Hell, Paul Morressey's 1974 cult classic "Blood For Dracula" is a damn sight better than Eggers's movie.

Robert Eggers has squandered a great opportunity to use Bram Stoker's novel as a leaping off narrative form from which to improvise his own cinematic narrative design of suspenseful intent. 

Where is your sense of Jazz improvisation Mr. Eggers?

Come on man; you're better than this.

If it were me I'd have cast Bill Skarsgård as Ellen Hunter's put-upon husband Thomas, and given the role of Nosferatu to his brother Alexander Skarsgård, who I might add would have been much more charming and dignified — think Astro-Hungarian Empire royalty.

I'd have played up suspense in the three hellhounds sequence where Thomas gets chased off a ledge into the abyss below. This sequence should be the centerpiece of the film.

I'd have let Thomas die from his fall, and have him communicate with Ellen telepathically (post-death) in her dreams as Ellen does with her domineering sex master Nosferatu. Nevermind that this vampire has all the appeal of a zombie meth addict with lesions all over his body that rebuke his gigantic well-groomed mustache.

"Nosferatu" is infuriating because of its cut-and-paste approach, and due to its lack of originality.

A miscast Willem Dafoe does the movie no favors as Professor Albin Eberhart von Franz, a Van Helsing archetype. This is the worst performance I've ever seen from Willem Dafoe.

Viggo Mortensen would have been much better casting.

I suppose this film's tag line, "Succumb to the Darkness" is an apt sentiment in the age of global warming and yet another Trump era.

This vampire movie is perfectly watchable; you may feel inclined to nap during it. Don't worry, you won't miss much.

Rated R. 140 mins.

GASLIGHT — CLASSIC FILM PICK

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George Cukor's masterful adaptation of Patrick Hamilton's 1938 stage play is a cinematic feast of noir suspense. Gleefully dark, seamlessly directed, and packed with surprising plot twists, "Gaslight" is truly a masterpiece of Cinema.

Glory!

Ingrid Bergman won a much deserved Best Actress Oscar in 1944 for her nuanced portrayal of famed opera singer Paula Alquist.

Stunning!

Retired Paula returns to London (circa 1880) to live with her new husband Gregory Anton (Charles Boyer) in the house where her late aunt lived before she was murdered ten years earlier. 

Gregory is a skilled technician in the practice of gaslighting. Convincing Paula that she is losing control of her mental faculties is just a smokescreen to cover up Gregory's criminal activities. 

Joseph Cotton's Scotland Yard detective Brian Cameron becomes suspicious of Gregory, whose refusal to let his wife go out in public raises a red flag.

Ingrid Bergman's flawless performance is endlessly watchable.

The late, great Angela Lansbury steals every scene she's in as Nancy, the flirtatious maid that Gregory hires to keep an eye on Paula while he's busy with his skullduggery.

This is much more than a solid period drama from one of Hollywood's most revered directors.

If you haven't yet seen "Gaslight," you are in for a rare treat. You'll certainly be keenly aware of other's attempts at leading you down a path of self-doubt after watching this amazing film.

Repeated viewings are in order.

If you discover that someone is attempting to gaslight you, you'll know what to do; exit the relationship on the spot.

"Gaslight" remains remarkably topical for its relevance in the modern world. This Cinema classic is essential viewing if only for its clear definition of the now-popular term.

Not Rated. 114 mins.

ROBOCOP (REMAKE)

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For the long-forgotten historical record, there have already been three Robocop movies — all co-written by Edward Neumeier, who is also a contributor to the latest reboot of the machine-man franchise.

The first film was an earth-shattering revelation, the others not so much. What earned the first film box office success and critical acclaim, and doomed the others as failures, was Paul Verhoeven’s energetic participation. The Dutch master director's darkly comic and scathing commentary on America’s unwitting surrender toward the fascist ideologies that have consumed the country since the 1980s are as abrupt as they are poetic.

Verhoeven’s visionary 1987 film was so ahead of its time that, despite its dazzling brilliance, he wasn’t brought back to direct any of its sequels. That was an injustice and a grave error.

The current version, of a near future when mechanized law enforcers plague Americans, is already dated. Red-light cameras trigger automatically generated tickets; missile-equipped drones threaten to annihilate house pets and civilians without regard to criminal behavior for citizenship status.

You can’t blame director José Padilha (known for his phenomenal documentary “Bus 174” and the gritty crime drama “Elite Squad”) for trying to break into Hollywood via a “genre” movie. It’s too bad for Padilha (and us) that he chose the insurmountable challenge of equaling Verhoeven's achievement for his attempted vertical career move. Padilha’s “Robocop” exhibits competent direction and little else.

No matter how hard the screenwriters and director strive to bridge the themes of humanity with corporate greed and scientific proof, “Robocop” is a disjointed movie that falls apart at every turn.

The film’s opening act attempts to replicate the inciting incident of Verhoeven’s original, but fails at the crucial moment when our good-cop loses connection with his mortal existence. In the original movie, Peter Weller’s police officer Alex Murphy suffered "Last Temptation of Christ"-like torture at the heavily armed hands of ruthless Detroit gangsters before losing his life in a shocking scene of despicable violence. The audience felt as though it had lost a friend. In the new version, Padilha’s camera comes nowhere near the face of the man who will be turned into a militarized killing machine. As such, the chance for an essential human connection is lost. Paul Verhoeven would never have made such a mistake.

By the time Alex (played marginally by newcomer Joel Kinnaman) is injured in such a way that he can only be reformed as part machine, too much time has passed for the audience to be engaged in the drama.

Satirical subplots, including Samuel L. Jackson as a right-wing FoxNews-styled television host, fall flat — just too blunt. There’s no nuance. Everything is too much on the nose.

As the story unfolds, its formulaic pattern overshadows the best efforts of its actors. Gary Oldman gives his ever-reliable all as the scientist responsible for transforming Alex’s head and torso into the ultimate crime-fighter. Abbie Cornish is fantastic as Alex’s caring wife Clara, and Jackie Earle Haley turns on the juice as a military software engineer responsible for the program that controls Alex’s fast-twitch abilities in the field. Alas, their best efforts are in vain.

This adaptation of the Robocop franchise had the potential to really say something about where America's corrupt militarized-global-corporate-political machine is headed. It didn’t do that. Instead, it squandered the opportunity to pussy out as just another generic Hollywood “entertainment” picture. We don’t have time for that. There’s too much at stake.

Rated PG-13. 108 mins.