While we all eagerly await Stef's review of Nosferatu (I'll be holding you to your promise @freedomain ) I thought I'd put my own thoughts in here. I'd also really like to hear what other people picked up from the story.

My husband and I went and saw it about a week ago, and we aren't the types to see movies. I think the last time either of us went to a theater was several years ago. In our post-holiday PTO malaise, we thought it could be a fun way to pass time.

I left the theater in a kind of daze. I didn't feel underwhelmed, yet not manic about it either. It left me wondering what the story meant, as it is structured as a very typical folk tale. The plot is very simple - not many characters, not too many moving parts. I've seen that some people criticize it for being this way, but I appreciate this structure because what folk tales are known for is condensing meaningful symbolism as efficiently as possible. This symbolism’s complexity typically makes up for the simplicity of the story. Aesop’s fables bring this principle to the extreme, for example. For that reason, I find criticisms of the simplicity to be a bit uneducated and solipsistic - if you want a complex and exhausting story that spells everything out for you, then by all means, there is no shortage of this in popular media. I appreciate that Nosferatu is a movie that departs from the norm of complex story weaving that’s manifested as TV shows and multi-part movies that should've ended a long time ago. Nosferatu is not a soap opera, and was never intended to be. I appreciate that it gives you the story without telling you what it should mean, either - much like traditional folk tales. There is no socio-political agenda here, only brutal reality and the logical consequences of the natural laws which surround us.

I am reminded of the folk tale of “Bluebeard” as recounted in the book Women Who Run With The Wolves (a compilation of mostly forgotten folk tales which symbolically inform the lives of women). The stories of Nosferatu and Bluebeard share many similarities. In both, the protagonist is a young, naive woman seeking companionship, and the woman accepts companionship from an older, obsessive, sadistic man who seeks to control and ruin the young woman. These stories end quite differently, but I thought I'd point that out. It would be interesting to ponder what influences the divergence of these stories and their comparative meaning, but I’d like to focus on Nosferatu for now.

The story begins with the protagonist, Ellen, using prayer to beg for companionship. The disembodied voice of Count Orlok responds, and she accepts his offer for companionship, which initiates some sort of psychic rape. This is the beginning of her disassociative seizures which become a major part of the story. It is also the most important plot point to consider when analyzing the story as a whole. As far as I know, the protagonist in past Nosferatus was never given this backstory which links her association with Count Orlok. She is mostly depicted as an innocent sacrifice, while in this modern retelling, she is willingly complicit in her relationship with Count Orlok. This removes her innocence from the story, in my opinion. This is really where I see analyses of the story diverging; the question of whether Ellen has autonomy in the story. In past iterations, the link between her and Orlok was never actually made clear.

I'm reminded of my own experience as an adolescent. My homelife was chaotic, my parents emotionally absent, and I felt oppressingly alone. From an early age I would fantasize about meeting the man who would marry me and whisk me away, and I'd never be alone again. I had no standards; whoever liked me back was good enough for me. My boyfriends from the beginning were typically much older, abusive, and manipulative. These early relationships were very traumatizing for me, but it is important to acknowledge that I am the one who allowed them to happen. Much like Ellen, I sought companionship, no matter how vile the other person could be. Rather than guarding my dignity, I excitedly accepted the love of men I didn't know, simply for the idea that by doing so I would no longer be alone. I feel that many women in our age can relate to this. This may be why the interpretation of the story can deviate so much; whether we see Ellen as complicit or a victim depends a lot on how we see our responsibility for our failed or toxic relationships.

Later in the story, even as Ellen married a supposedly good man, she remains misunderstood and largely alone with her own thoughts. Her husband writes her off as having “fanciful dreams” and ignoring her pleads for understanding. Her friend is disturbed by her and largely unhelpful, yet exhibits some distant charity for her condition. Many of the characters dismiss her as histrionic, save for the intervention of an eccentric doctor whose interest in the occult had alienated him from society. He operates as Ellen's psychological link to the world around her, and in the end, is the only one who is able to direct her to the story’s resolution.

There is something to be said about the ignorant and oppressive nature of modern society which silences the voices of women who are in need of spiritual and physical help. The struggles of women during this time period (1830s) are reduced to histrionicism and “melancholy”, which can be “treated” with scientific know-how - and I find this mirrors our more modern society's positions on women's wellbeing. PMS, PPD, BPD, manic depressive disorder, ADHD, and so on are the modern terms which we use as metaphorical straitjackets to bind “uncooperative” women. Birth control, SSRIs, Xanax, hysterectomies and so on are the ether and corsets which are used to restrain us in our sickbeds while the origins of our illness are ignored. Some women might see depictions of women in antiquity and rejoice in the more “ethical” standards of the modern world, seemingly blind to the ways that these torturous treatments have only morphed into ones that we accept today.

The origin of Ellen’s illness is the psychic connection that she has with Orlok, which she, as I've pointed out, was complicit in. This is a significant distinction that determines Ellen’s autonomy in the matter - and it is autonomy which allows us to change our circumstances. If Orlok represents mental illness/decay (not saying that's all he represents, but in one facet at least), then it is Ellen who is willingly in contract with her own illness. I feel that this represents our own responsibility in the ways our health declines. We are the ones who defer to “authorities” despite not knowing whether they will help or harm us. We are the ones who invite poor habits into our lifestyles. While we can certainly victimize ourselves - “I didn't know any better at the time” - we can also hold ourselves accountable for not trying to know in the first place, and not deferring our decisions until we do.

All that said, this is not a happy story. It does not have a hero which saves everyone against all odds. Ellen decides that the only way to rid herself and those she loves of this horror is to succumb to it in order to defeat Orlok. There are many ways that you can look at this. The first one that came to my mind is that the destructive chaos of Orlok is representative of the consequences of Ellen’s mistakes. Ellen accepts these consequences, and it is through this acceptance that the destruction ceases. Essentially, she had to lie in the bed that she had made. This is a cautionary tale taken to its extreme.

Another way of describing that is the logical outcome of throwing your life away to “bad boys”. I thought it was interesting that the hype surrounding Nosferatu often described Orlok as “the ultimate bad boy”. These bad boys are dysfunctional men who ruin your life. At a certain point, enough damage is done that there is no recovering from it. I do wonder if this aspect of the story is apparent to women who have succumbed to “bad boys” and are living the consequences of it. There seems to be a subset of women who are sexually excited by succumbing to evil, despite how explicit the consequences are made to be. Maybe they acknowledge this aspect in the movie and are truly excited by it, or they are blind to it because it's too confronting to their identities. Either way, it is kind of disturbing.

This perspective on the symbolism of the story seems very obvious to me, but I have seen interpretations wherein the story is an allegory for depression, or that Orlok represents the shadow self of each character that interacts with him. Maybe all of it is true at once, but the picture is not complete without considering all of these facets as part of the story… not just some of them.

The movie is of course just plain vile in some parts. Despite that, when I think of it, I don't think about the hideous scenes. I think mostly of the story itself. There was one part where 3 people were vomiting at once in the movie, which coincidentally was the exact time that we received the food that we ordered in the theater, and I remember it because of how silly it seemed to get food during such a scene. Other than that, it was visually beautiful. The cinematography is very unique and addicting to look at. I can't remember a movie that I have seen that is as stylistically stunning. The acting is good too, although a bit theatrical, but I think that is fitting for the style of the film.

Would love to hear other freedomainer takes on other symbols present in the story.