By Maria Bregman, writer and film critic
Cinema in 2025 began with a striking juxtaposition: the haunting revival of a vampire classic by Robert Eggers and Johnny Depp’s exploration of the chaotic final days of Amadeo Modigliani. While these films belong to entirely different genres, both seek to honour their inspirations while carving out unique artistic identities. Yet, their respective successes – and failures – reveal much about the balancing act between homage and innovation.

Reanimating Shadows: Eggers’ Nosferatu
Robert Eggers has built his reputation on meticulously crafted period films, blending historical authenticity with psychological horror. His Nosferatu, a bold reinterpretation of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 silent classic, plunges viewers into 1930s Germany, where the creeping terror of vampirism is mirrored by a world on the brink of upheaval.
Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok is no ordinary cinematic vampire. Eggers amplifies his unsettling presence through angular features, grotesque physicality, and a sense of looming inevitability. Skarsgård’s performance treads the fine line between otherworldly menace and tragic isolation, invoking sympathy even as he terrorises Nicholas Hoult’s Thomas Hutter.
At the film’s heart lies Lili-Rose Depp as Ellen, whose repressed desires and agency are granted an unprecedented focus. Her transformation from fragile innocence to a figure of sexual and moral complexity is compelling, aligning with Eggers’ signature feminist undertones. Her portrayal imbues the narrative with contemporary resonance, bridging the past with the present.
Visually, Nosferatu dazzles with Eggers’ commitment to visual inventiveness. The chiaroscuro lighting, intricate set design, and hypnotic camerawork evoke the expressionist tradition while reimagining it for modern audiences. However, some critics have pointed to Eggers’ overwhelming reverence for the source material as a limitation. The film’s strict adherence to the original’s structure leaves little room for the bold reinterpretations that defined earlier adaptations, such as Werner Herzog’s 1979 masterpiece.
While it succeeds as a technical achievement and homage, Nosferatu occasionally falters in establishing a distinct authorial voice. It is a film crafted with admiration but constrained by its director’s almost paralysing respect for its cinematic lineage.
An Artist’s Despair: Depp’s Modì
In stark contrast to Eggers’ precise vision, Johnny Depp’s Modì is a chaotic, impassioned exploration of Amadeo Modigliani’s tumultuous life during three pivotal days in Paris, 1916. The film delves into the artist’s financial struggles, volatile relationships, and unrelenting pursuit of artistic integrity.
Riccardo Scamarcio embodies Modigliani with intensity, portraying him as a man consumed by both his genius and self-destructive tendencies. While comparisons to Depp’s iconic Jack Sparrow are inevitable, Scamarcio’s Modigliani is a more subdued figure, driven less by flamboyance and more by desperation and vulnerability.
Depp’s direction, however, has sparked mixed reactions. On one hand, his portrayal of Modigliani’s world is vividly textured, with Paris’ bohemian underbelly brought to life through rich cinematography and a melancholic score. Yet, the narrative often struggles under the weight of its ambition. Scenes oscillate between moments of brilliance and fragmented, disjointed storytelling.
The inclusion of Al Pacino as art collector Maurice Gangnat provides a brief yet electrifying respite, reminding audiences of the film’s untapped potential. Pacino’s presence underscores the tragedy of Modì: a film that could have soared under a more disciplined hand.
Moreover, Depp’s decision to frame Modigliani as a misunderstood genius battling an unkind world has drawn criticism for its self-referential overtones. The parallels between the artist’s struggles and Depp’s own tumultuous career detract from the film’s focus, making it feel less like a tribute to Modigliani and more like a veiled commentary on the director’s personal grievances.
A Tale of Two Films
Nosferatu and Modì illuminate contrasting approaches to storytelling and artistry. Eggers leans heavily on precision and historical fidelity, crafting a film that is hauntingly beautiful but narratively safe. Depp, on the other hand, embraces chaos and emotional resonance, resulting in a work that is raw but uneven.
Both films grapple with the weight of their respective legacies. Eggers’ meticulous homage to Nosferatu celebrates the roots of horror cinema but at times feels shackled by its reverence. Depp’s Modì attempts to capture the anarchic spirit of its subject but ultimately succumbs to indulgence and incoherence.
Despite their flaws, these films offer valuable insights into the enduring tension between innovation and tradition in cinema. Eggers and Depp remind us that reimagining the past is a perilous endeavour, demanding both respect for its foundations and the courage to deviate from them.
In their own ways, Nosferatu and Modì reaffirm the power of cinema to resurrect and reinterpret cultural icons, inviting audiences to rediscover their relevance in an ever-changing world.





