The 12 Movies You Need to Watch Before Nosferatu Scares You Senseless

An adaptation of the classic fairy tale, Jean Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast is set in the 18th century and features a visual style that feels both sumptuous and nightmarish. The decadent costumes resemble Lily-Rose Depp’s beautiful gowns in Nosferatu, with plumes of silk, flowing skirts, and tight bodices. The black-and-white cinematography has a sharp, surreal quality, illuminating the piercing whites of the Beast’s eyes. The monochrome visuals are so stark they seem dreamlike—note the scene set in a pitch-black hallway lit by tiny, twinkling lights from candelabras. Like Nosferatu, Beauty and the Beast is a monster movie that is beautiful to look at, even in all its darkness.

Before seeing Nosferatu, you should brush up on the origins of German Expressionism, as these filmmaking techniques are still being used today. Watching Robert Wiene’s silent movie about a murderous hypnotist, you can observe the sort of visuals that continue to influence horror movies like Nosferatu, such as chiaroscuro lighting (heavy contrasts of light and shadow), jagged, angular buildings, and twisted, disorienting backgrounds. The scenes feel even creepier due to the older camera technology, the scratches on the film, and the eerie glow of the film stock. You can clearly see where Eggers, as well as directors like Tim Burton, draw their inspiration from.

During an appearance on Alamo Drafthouse’s YouTube series Guest Selects, Eggers praised Jack Clayton’s The Innocents as “one of the best—perhaps the best—gothic ghost movies ever made.” The film follows a governess who fears her children are possessed. Eggers mentioned that he watches the movie a couple of times a year for inspiration, and it’s evident that much of its essence will influence Nosferatu. Eggers was particularly inspired by Freddy Francis’ cinematography, which uses special glass filters to create a cocoon-like effect and tight framing that makes the spaces feel oppressive. In every shot, Clayton carefully positions the actors against the intricate architecture of the sprawling mansion, which dominates the scene to suggest an otherworldly presence lurking within the walls. The film is visually stunning yet deeply unsettling.

Talent and a penchant for horror clearly run in the family. Lily-Rose Depp, who stars in Nosferatu, follows in the footsteps of her father Johnny Depp, who was also part of a classic horror retelling: Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow, based on Washington Irving’s tale of the headless horseman. Both films are historical, set in the 18th and 19th centuries, and are filled with elaborate gowns, ripped bodices, stuffy waistcoats, and tailored trousers. They also share a grim, Gothic, grayscale color palette. Tim Burton emphasizes the vividness of red blood, making it stand out as it spills in buckets. Despite these visual similarities, the two films convey different tones: Burton’s film has a more cartoonish, whimsical vibe, while Nosferatu appears to be more sensuous and classical.

Gary Oldman chews the scenery as Vlad the Impaler, a warrior who loses his beloved wife to suicide, and later as the older Count Dracula, complete with a ridiculous wig resembling giant orbs. There are strong performances from Winona Ryder and Anthony Hopkins, though not so much from Keanu Reeves. Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula adaptation is hypersexual and goofy in the weirdest ways—more colorful and splashy than Gothic and dark. For some, this ostentatious style suits a character who thrives on decadence and desire. With over-the-top dialogue and dramatics, combined with camerawork that whirls and twirls through Dracula’s lavish castle, it’s an epic adaptation worth watching. It even includes stylish visual homages to the original Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror.

Nosferatu’s Count Orlok is not the first terrifying character Bill Skarsgård has transformed into; he also portrayed Pennywise the Clown in the recent adaptation of Stephen King’s epic novel It, which follows a group of children confronting an alien entity that haunts their Maine town of Derry over several decades. As Pennywise, Skarsgård immersed himself in the role not only through grotesque prosthetics—featuring a bulbous head, buck teeth, yellow eyes, clown makeup, and a twisted smile—but also through his unsettling physicality. His movements are eerily fluid, and his voice, initially light and fluffy like cotton candy, can shift instantly to become gruff and menacing. This commitment to transforming his physicality will likely be on display again in Nosferatu, and watching It offers just a glimpse of how demonic Skarsgård can be.

The Lighthouse is another Eggers film you should catch up on. Shot in stark black-and-white and filled with salty sea dog language, it immerses you in its claustrophobic island setting, surrounded by tantalizing mermaids and flocks of seagulls—one of which meets a violent end. In this isolated and stormy space, Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson’s lighthouse keepers slowly descend into madness, creating a dizzying spectacle of cursing, heavy drinking, farting, and simmering sexual tension. The ending leaves a haunting final image that lingers long after the credits roll.

Eggers made a striking debut with The Witch in 2015, immediately establishing himself as a distinct new filmmaker. From this film, you’ll quickly get a sense of what to expect from him: folkloric tales of darkness with a Gothic aesthetic and antiquated dialogue. The Witch immerses you in the mundane, rigid daily life of Puritan New England, as a family accuses their daughter of witchcraft following the disappearance of their youngest son. Eggers carefully and methodically builds the tension, uncertainty, and mistrust, culminating in a mystical and deliciously sinful finale. After watching it, you’ll never look at a goat the same way again.

Another important influence on Eggers is Bela Lugosi’s portrayal of Count Dracula in Tod Browning’s 1931 version of the tale. Lugosi’s take on the world’s most famous vampire became the quintessential archetype—mysterious and monstrous, yet debonair and hypnotic, with a regal cape, a transfixing stare, and the ability to glide through his castle like a ghost. The film exudes a Gothic elegance that is more seductive than frightening, a quality Nosferatu may draw upon in its own way.

Eggers told Empire magazine that he has been “consciously not watching” Werner Herzog’s version of Nosferatu, though he did end up shooting at the same castle, Pernštejn Castle in the Czech Republic. It seems Eggers is avoiding this version because it’s another filmmaker’s interpretation of the original, and he doesn’t want to cloud his own vision. However, for us as the audience, it’s fascinating to watch and compare the original silent film, Eggers’ adaptation, and Herzog’s version. Herzog’s Nosferatu is highly stylized, with every frame resembling a slowly moving painting. Eschewing the shadow-drenched visuals typical of the genre, Herzog often bathes Klaus Kinski’s Count Dracula in bright light, highlighting his pale white skin and sunken eyes. Much of the terror comes not from what is hidden but from what is revealed. This approach contrasts sharply with Eggers’ darker, more somber aesthetic, offering a compelling study in how different directors can interpret the same iconic story.

There’s some meta casting in Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu, as Willem Dafoe, who plays Professor Albin Eberhart von Franz, also portrayed actor Max Schreck in Shadow of the Vampire, a fictionalized account of the making of Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. In Shadow of the Vampire, Max Schreck takes his role as the prowling vampire a little too seriously—so much so that he might actually be a vampire. This clever premise leads to humorous moments about method acting, with Schreck skulking around the set creepily and even eating bats, while John Malkovich’s F.W. Murnau gleefully captures it all on camera. The film builds to a chilling finale where fiction and reality blend in the most horrifying and violent ways, adding an unsettling layer to Dafoe’s connection to the Nosferatu legacy.

A key film to watch before Eggers’ Nosferatu is, of course, the 1922 original directed by F.W. Murnau, Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. In Nosferatu, you can see the German Expressionist techniques that have influenced countless horror films since, such as exaggerated, theatrical gestures and the use of tilted camera angles. So many images from the film remain powerful and unforgettable, from Orlok’s shadow creeping across the wall as he stalks his prey to the ravishing Ellen clutching her heart and collapsing into bed. Perhaps most striking of all is the image of Max Schreck as Count Orlok standing motionless in a hallway, his eyes bulging and his sharp claws outstretched. It’s thrilling to witness the infancy of the horror genre in Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, a silent film that, even over a century later, continues to send shivers down spines with its blend of terror and artistic innovation.