As we delve deeper into the design of Robert Egger’s Nosferatu, we leave behind the comfort of the Harding and Hutter homes explored in Part 1 and step into the true heart of darkness—Count Orlok’s castle. Here, the eerie stillness of his domain speaks volumes about his isolation and centuries of decay.

In this second part, we explore the monumental work of production designer Craig Lathrop and set decorator Beatrice Brentnerová, as they craft a space that is as much a reflection of Orlok’s soul as it is a physical setting for the story’s chilling horror. From the sparsely furnished, decaying corridors of his castle to the iconic symbolism of his coffin, every design element was deliberately chosen to invoke a sense of dread.

Take a read of Part 2 below, watch the video interview below for more insights, or listen along on The Film and Furniture Podcast on Podbean, Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and all your favourite podcast platforms.

As the story shifts to Orlok’s world, every corner of the set reveals a deeper connection to ancient rituals and the supernatural, blending historical accuracy with an atmosphere of terror.

Orlok’s Castle: A Monument to Isolation and Decay

In stark contrast to the warmth of the Harding and Hutter homes, Count Orlok’s (Bill Skarsgard) castle rises as a towering testament to isolation, decay, and the passage of time. Designed to feel as ancient as Orlok himself, the castle was built to reflect his detachment from humanity—a place untouched by time, cold and forbidding.

Czech Republic’s Pernštejn castle, which Werner Herzog used in his 1979 adaption Nosferatu the Vampyre, was initially considered for filming. However, its more recent renovations made it feel too pristine. Instead, the exterior of Nosferatu was filmed at Romania’s Corvin Castle, while the interior was painstakingly recreated in the studio— a stark, barren space that exudes a deeply unsettling presence.

“The castle had to feel diseased, like it had been forgotten by time,” says Craig. “There’s no need for lavish furniture, because his needs are minimal, and everything about his space speaks to his alienation from life.” Sparse, empty corridors and a near-barren chamber are not just set design—they are reflections of the vampire’s soul, cold and isolated, and they set the tone for the horror that lurks within.

The Coffin and Crypt: Death Reimagined

Orlok’s coffin, a macabre masterpiece, stands as the ultimate symbol of death and eternal torment. Designed with meticulous attention to detail, it incorporates elements inspired by Polish sarcophagi, with motifs of Dacian dragons and skulls that tie the coffin to ancient rituals of power and the supernatural. Orlok’s coffin is not just a resting place, but a doorway to his dark past, his immortality, and his connection to a forgotten world.

Craig explains, “The coffin wasn’t just about death—it was about Orlok’s connection to an ancient, supernatural realm. Its intricate details, like the Dacian dragons inspired by the Trajan Column in Rome, ground it in history but also tie it to a world of myth and mysticism.”

In Orlok’s crypt, every item is chosen not only for its age but for the way it amplifies the atmosphere of terror. The sparsely furnished crypt—with its cold, towering walls—feels like a physical manifestation of the vampire’s torment, centuries of decay and isolation captured in stone and shadow.

The Monastery: A Brief Colour-Filled Sanctuary

As a rare moment of relief from the bleakness of Orlok’s castle, the monastery which Thomas finds himself after his escape, provides a brief, almost surreal burst of colour, a respite from the otherwise desolate world.

Inspired by Moldovan frescoes, the monastery’s design adds a touch of warmth and vibrancy, offering a visual contrast that heightens the horror.

Rat Mats and the Occult Influence

The production design team used a combination of live rats and clever effects to create the haunting rat-infested scenes onboard the ship, the chapel and Grunwold Manor. Craig shared that while thousands of live rats were used in close-up shots, they were carefully corralled using Plexiglas barriers to ensure they remained in the desired area without scattering across the set. This was crucial to avoid chaos and ensure all rats were accounted for.

However, to cover larger areas, such as the chapel where the rats needed to appear in the background, the team used “rat mats”—a term Craig coined to describe these props. These were essentially mats with realistic-looking toy rats arranged to simulate a swarming mass of rats. Craig described the process: “We made these mats by arranging realistic toy rats in a way that they looked like they were climbing over each other. These mats were used to cover larger areas of the set, especially when visual effects came in to animate rats scurrying about.”

These rat mats were used to create a base layer for the visual effects work, as the scene required an overwhelming presence of rats. “In reality, there would have been hundreds of thousands of rats to fill that space, but we had a limited amount. So the mats helped cover the floor, and we used the live rats for the close-ups and foreground shots,” Craig explained. The result was an unsettling, eerie environment where rats seemed to take over every inch of space, adding to the film’s sense of dread.

Occult influences running through Nosferatu are pervasive. From the Solomonic script seen in Knock’s estate agent’s office to the hidden symbolism in Orlok’s coffin, every design element is imbued with the dark magic and mysticism that form the backbone of the film’s story. “The occult is not just in the props—it’s in the very fabric of the world we’ve created,” says Craig.

 

Nosferatu is a film where details counts. From the meticulously researched sets to symbolic objects, Craig Lathrop’s design work ensures that the world of gothic horror feels as real and immersive as the vampire at its heart.