Before the advent of electricity, Christmas trees were lit with candles. It’s a tradition that seems insanely dangerous, until you realize that back then the options were firelight or no light at all—and oh god, can you imagine? You couldn’t bear it. Not in late December; not when the nights were so long, and so dark, and so cold.
And not when you never knew who—or what—might be just outside, ready to tap a gnarled finger at the window. Whispering through cracked lips, in a cracked voice; calling out your name.
I’m freezing.
I’m starving.
I want to come inside.
Robert Eggers’s much-anticipated horror film Nosferatu is set before the advent of electricity; it arrived in theaters on December 25, though the only nod to festivity is one of those chancy candlelit Christmas trees, glimpsed in the background of a drawing room scene. This is a film that leans into darkness.
