From the whisper of chiffon against sweat-soaked skin to the suffocating embrace of a corset, Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu delivers a visually rich and psychologically unrelenting interpretation of the Gothic. With Lily-Rose Depp’s Ellen caught in Count Orlok’s consuming obsession, this reimagining of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 silent film transforms Victorian sartorial details into symbols of seduction, repression, and feminine agency.
In this adaptation, the year is 1838 – an era of rigid social structure, moral ambiguity, and flourishing yet stifling notions of femininity. With meticulous costume design from long-time collaborator Linda Muir, Eggers layers a sensual horror that hinges as much on fabric and silhouette as it does on shadow and fangs.
The Power of the Nightgown: From Innocence to Vulnerability
In Nosferatu, the nocturnal world pulses with danger. Ellen’s nightgowns – diaphanous, fragile, and often rendered translucent – become emblematic of her vulnerability and burgeoning desire. While the original Nosferatu positioned Ellen as a passive victim, Eggers shifts focus, allowing her clothing to reflect a narrative evolution.
Muir’s approach to costume realism draws heavily from historical records, notably an archival 1838 fashion journal. These sources enabled her to recreate sleeping attire that blurs the line between modesty and exposure. The layers of lightweight fabric, deliberately soaked to the point of transparency, evoke both the sensual and the spectral. Ellen’s nightgown, drenched and clinging to her form under moonlit pallor, becomes a tactile representation of her psyche – feverish, exposed, and confined.
“The nightgown is almost alive,” Muir explains. “It moves with Ellen, trailing like a ghost but also revealing her body, amplifying both her fragility and sensual power.” In a genre steeped in psychosexual tension, such deliberate costuming choice magnifies Ellen’s oscillation between prey and participant.
Corsets as Instruments of Restraint and Liberation
Perhaps no garment is as emblematic of the 19th century as the corset – both a tool of beauty and a device of restriction. In Nosferatu, the corset becomes more than historical accuracy; it is a narrative weapon. During a climactic scene where Ellen’s trances reach a perilous pitch, Dr. Sievers (Ralph Ineson) tightens her corset to tether her to the bed. Here, the corset transforms into an apparatus of patriarchal control, echoing Victorian anxieties surrounding women’s hysteria.
Yet the garment’s duality cannot be ignored. The corset, which moulds the body into a symbol of desirability, is also used as an instrument of rebellion. In a moment of frenzied defiance, Ellen tears open her bodice – a visceral act of resistance against Orlok’s haunting possession. Muir’s specialised stitching techniques ensured the seams were just weak enough for Depp to rip them apart effortlessly. This subtle yet powerful detail underscores the tension between control and liberation, restraint and release.
Silhouettes of Desire: Historical Fidelity with Modern Resonance
Beyond the bedroom, Ellen’s dresses speak volumes about her character’s transformation and the film’s subtext. Blue and lilac-hued gowns, reflective of Orlok’s obsession with her pale beauty, are cut with plunging necklines and ballooned sleeves – a historical nod to early Victorian fashion. These garments not only reveal the vulnerable expanse of her neck, a vampiric fixation, but also situate Ellen as a creature both of her time and timeless allure.
Interestingly, such silhouettes find a contemporary echo in high-fashion runways. Designers like Valentino and Simone Rocha have reimagined these 19th-century lines, marrying historical inspiration with modern sensuality. Linda Muir, however, insists that her designs prioritise authenticity over trend. “If it feels modern, that’s incidental,” Muir clarifies. “What matters is that the audience believes what they’re seeing – that Ellen belongs to her world.”
This attention to realism makes the horror all the more visceral. The dresses, despite their beauty, carry the weight of inevitability. They reflect Ellen’s inner conflict: a woman bound by the fabric of her time, yet capable of subverting it.
The Feminist Undercurrent of Eggers’ Vision
While Eggers’ Nosferatu leans heavily into Gothic horror traditions, it also breathes new life into the genre through a distinctly feminist lens. Ellen, no longer a passive archetype, wields her sexuality as both weapon and shield. Her clothing – meticulously crafted and layered with symbolism – mirrors this agency.
Muir’s approach to Ellen’s self-lacing corset, for instance, highlights the character’s independence. Without a maid to assist her, Ellen becomes both the architect of her appearance and the victim of its constraints. This subtle detail speaks to a broader theme of autonomy within a patriarchal framework.
Eggers’ treatment of costuming as a storytelling device resonates with the Gothic’s enduring fascination with gender, repression, and power. The interplay between Ellen’s fragility and her quiet strength – embodied through her clothing – invites the audience to reconsider the vampire genre’s long history of sexualised violence.
A Visual and Psychological Feast
Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is more than a remake of a silent classic; it is a meticulously crafted psychosexual nightmare, where every frame, every shadow, and every stitch carries meaning. Linda Muir’s costumes, steeped in historical research and layered with subtext, transform clothing into a narrative force. From the sweat-soaked transparency of Ellen’s nightgown to the tight embrace of her corset, the garments expose her body and soul – vulnerable, defiant, and ultimately human.
In a genre often defined by its reliance on the monstrous other, Eggers’ Nosferatu turns the gaze inward. Ellen’s clothing becomes a mirror, reflecting both her oppression and her rebellion. The result is a Gothic masterpiece that seduces its audience – not just with its horrors, but with its beauty.
