Fashion
How “Nosferatu” Reinvents the Vampire for a New Era
To understand a film like Robert Eggers’s Nosferatu, one must understand the difference between terror and horror. Terror is the feeling of dread at the possibility of something frightening; horror is the actual seeing of the frightening thing itself. So when deciding what a worthwhile vampire movie should look like—whether you’re emulating F.W. Murnau’s iconic original Nosferatu (1922), creating your own unique vision, or perhaps making a mix of both—a filmmaker needs to balance what is seen and what is unseen.
That’s what makes Eggers’s new addition to the genre so interesting and also so challenging to costume. On one hand, Nosferatu is a period piece set between 19th-century Germany and Transylvania; on the other, it’s an update on the classic vampire flick with a villain we don’t get a clear glimpse of until at least a third of the way through the film. And in the adroit hands of Linda Muir, Eggers’s costume designer and longtime collaborator, the clothing here is a master class in gothic costuming.
It’s clear that Muir and her team left no stones unturned or necks unbitten when it came to sourcing the perfect period-appropriate textiles, rooting her approach in literal 19th-century German textile books and one-of-a-kind vintage pieces to devise an entirely new vision of what a vampire film should look like. Muir paid attention to the ways certain costumes reflect candlelight and melt away into shadows, so when we finally do lay eyes on Bill Skarsgård’s Count Orlok, he feels all the more real. (Side note: The film’s distributor, Focus Features, even collaborated with Heretic Parfum on what vampires should smell like, with the chilling new Nosferatu Eau de Macabre.)
Sound enticing? Read on for our costume chat with Linda Muir—if you dare.
You have collaborated with Robert Eggers on several films now, including The Northman (2022), The Lighthouse (2019), and The Witch (2015). What is it like to work with one filmmaker on so many different projects?
Every project is different in that the material is different. But the way we work together, the MO is the same and only gets easier and more friendship-oriented, because you know what each other’s shorthand is and you know what works for each of us.
Robert has such a clear vision for each of these films. I imagine that affects your research process.
When Robert writes each of these incredible scripts, he begins with his own very detailed research and embeds that research in the script. Then it’s up to me to elaborate and become more specific and ask the questions we need answered. Robert is always providing what he wants and what he sees, and they are always uniquely his visions. He does a very beautiful look book, and we get that information, and then I put that up all over my walls and start to think about what this means, what that means.
So once he hands over the scripts and look books, what does your process look like?
Then I start to find texts, paintings, and images that I need to make sense of that—because we are the ones who will find the textiles, make the shapes, fit the actors from the skin out. Every single layer of costuming, from corsets and shifts to night wear, stockings, coats—all of that was made for this film. Specifically, it’s also German. So we found the costume clothing journals that are German for very specific years. Count Orlok’s costuming is all from a different period because he predates our principal characters by centuries, and then we have these Orthodox Romanian nuns and priests that are very specific. The research is really extensive, and I really love it.
When it comes to the source material, there is so much to work with here, from traditional Eastern European vampire lore to the original Nosferatu film from 1922 to everything we know about Dracula to the Francis Ford Coppola film Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992). How did your Orlok reference—or not reference—everything that’s come before?
There was a discussion between Robert and me that our approach would be more to subconsciously evoke than to re-create. Our approach in terms of designing Orlok’s costuming was about how to create what Robert saw and how to reference the original [1922] Murnau film and the actual book that Bram Stoker wrote. Coppola’s Dracula is so stylized, with really stunning costumes, but it wasn’t what we were doing. Ours was more rooted in reality, in a more authentic-looking world. That meant researching very specific silhouettes. The cape, for instance—it’s not a black satin Dracula cape—is the cape of a Transylvanian nobleman, which because of the period and the culture is a coat with sleeves that’s worn as a cape. So the silhouette, the collar, and how high it goes to the back of Orlok’s head was definitely evoking Murnau’s vampire.
Walk me through your costuming decisions for your Count Orlok.
I start with my sketches and sourcing textiles and thinking about things like, is he going to be seen in firelight or camera light or moonlight? So let’s select textiles that have gold or silver threads in them to reflect the light back. Then we start to do our toiles and fittings with the actors. That’s when we see that this coat needs to be bulkier, that coat needs to be fur lined to give it the right weight, how long sleeves should be, so forth.
So the design process must involve some quick pivots, I imagine.
There was one cloak that ended up being so heavy, we needed to add a quick-release harness to go inside it. It’s really an ongoing process throughout the prep period.
One thing that struck me about the cinematography is the transition from color to a sort of black-and-white grayscale. How did that impact your costuming decisions?
Robert is exceedingly fond of black and white and gray, and I love color. It’s always a conversation between him and me. I try to control the colors and use very specific favorites and combinations of color. I’m also directed by what is accurate for the period, the actual textiles of the years leading up to 1838. If you look at the actual patterns from textile books or swatch books with fabric swatches from the period, this was a wild period for patterns. You can have a face of a fabric with stripes, paisley, and ombré all in the same textile, and that is interesting but highly distracting. So it’s about trying to figure out how you evoke the period with appropriate textiles that don’t overpower with either print or pattern or color but also differentiate each character from the others.
What was a challenge of costuming this film?
All the different cultures [represented in the film] have to be researched, the fabrics sourced, the designs talked through with the tailors. And with Nosferatu, there was a real process because we prepped and shot in Prague, and our costume shop didn’t have many people who spoke English, so a lot had to be done through translation. So that was another player that was fascinating in terms of bringing the whole workshop together and stressing how important it was to be accurate in following the designs and research materials.
This entire cast is extraordinary, but I specifically need to ask about Lily-Rose Depp, who is really well known for her personal sense of style. What is she like to work with?
Lily-Rose was extraordinary. She was always interested in the historical information. There might have been parts of costumes that needed to be tweaked because you didn’t realize from your sketches that these have to go on bodies and be worn by people—but there wasn’t anyone who walked in and said, “I won’t wear this.” What I loved about both Lily-Rose and Emma Corrin is they would say, “I would wear this now!” And what I’ve come to realize doing these very detailed period films is that really great designs, really great clothing, is timeless. You connect to something you wear regardless of period if you love what it makes you feel. That was also true of Robert Pattinson when he tried on the oilskins for The Lighthouse. He was very into the way it looked.
Were there any wardrobe malfunctions you had to deal with on set?
I was working away in the design office one day when I got this call to come to set quickly. Everyone was madly huddled around Lily, and Lily looked stricken. I came up to her, and the back of her wedding veil had three or four massive rips in it. I’m talking about a wedding veil that I found in London that is a vintage wedding veil. It was like a spiderweb, it was so gossamer. We took apart the original veil and washed it, and everyone was treating it like the Shroud of Turin—then it was formed into this beautiful wedding veil with handmade lilacs made for us outside of Florence.
In the shot, Lily’s back was to the camera, and the Velcro around the camera caught onto the veil, and then they whipped the camera back and the veil was just shredded. We were madly stitching this, and the shot is backlit, which means anything you do to it is going to be visible. We all rolled with it, and Lily was great, and we just went on. We managed to sew it back into graceful folds. I don’t think you can see it in the film!
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.