Doug Jones Like You’ve Never Seen Him Before in ‘Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror’ [January Cover Story]
Doug Jones is an actor and genre icon best known for his impossible on-screen transformations that push the art form of performance to dizzying new heights. Throughout his unprecedented career, Jones has worn all levels of prosthetics and makeup to craft unforgettable pillars of horror and fantasy, like the Pale Man in Pan’s Labyrinth, the Amphibian Man in The Shape of Water, and Baron Afanas in What We Do in the Shadows. Yet, out of all of his timeless transformations, his most recent role may be among his most ambitious: Count Orlok in Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, David Lee Fisher’s highly unique reimagining of the 1922 silent horror classic, which was released via demand on Amazon’s Prime Video and Apple TV this past autumn.
Fisher’s reimagining—a dexterous collision of classic and modern filmmaking styles—arrives at a fascinating cultural moment, premiering only a few weeks before Robert Eggers’ much-discussed Nosferatu. While Eggers’ elaborate, big-budget reboot features A-Lister Bill Skarsgård (It: Chapters 1 and 2) as the monstrous title-role vampire, Jones’ version arrives instead as an indie, guerilla (and even somewhat punk) counterprogramming. Where Eggers’ expensive and buzzy production flexes its cinematic muscle, Jones and Fisher’s Nosferatu pays hand-crafted, experimental homage to its silent-film roots.
For Jones, thoughtfully donning the mantel of Max Schreck’s legendary role was not simply a career milestone but a complex and lengthy labor of love. “A few years ago, if you’d asked me about a bucket list character, Nosferatu would’ve been at the top,” he shares with me honestly. “He’s not sexy like Dracula or sparkly like modern vampires. He’s scraggly, pointy-eared, and buck-toothed—someone I could really sink my claws into.” His studious interpretation of the role grounds Orlok in a way that makes the monster seem tangible, almost real. The character himself was once human nobility, even if all that still lingers is hunger and death. “I don’t think Orlok realizes how much he’s faded. In his mind, he’s still the dashing count he once was, and that dichotomy fascinated me,” Jones said.
Fisher’s Nosferatu has taken shape over time after a decades-long collaboration. Jones previously worked with the visionary director on a conceptually similar remake of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari in 2005. Their mad-scientist method is an experimental hybrid of using the original silent film alongside new dialogue, sound design, and digital effects. “We shot entirely on green screen,” Jones recalls of the lengthy process. “Every movement and gesture had to align perfectly with the original imagery. It’s an ethereal, dreamlike experience that honors the past while expanding on it.”
Jones also shared the fascinating technical challenges he faced when transforming into Orlok, which needed extensive prosthetics and detailed makeup artistry. “This was a head-and-hands transformation,” he explains. “It’s not as physically taxing as a full-body suit, but it’s still demanding. The makeup process took about four hours each day to apply, with various prosthetic pieces, painted veins, and taloned hands that really brought Orlok to life.” While Jones has played no shortage of iconic creatures, the role of Orlok asked for a good amount of emotional depth beyond the visual changes. “The farther you get from human, the harder it is to play,” he notes. “Orlok’s humanity is still there, buried under layers of torment and hunger. That’s where the real performance comes from—his desires, regrets, and fears.”
The unconventional process of crafting Fisher’s Nosferatu unraveled for nearly a decade, from shooting back in 2015 to its punishing post-production work. Jones credits Fisher’s relentless vision, noting, “David essentially created these digital elements single-handedly on an indie budget. It’s a Herculean effort compared to the studio resources Eggers had at his disposal.” This craftsmanlike artistry involved layering new performances over the original film’s film and images, producing a striking crash of the past and the present. “Even the smallest details—like how I carried Orlok’s coffin or the way shadows moved—had to align with the original,” Jones says. “It’s a seamless homage that also breathes new life into the story.”
While the unleashing of the two new Nosferatu films has likely invited comparisons, it’s a circumstance Jones seems to approach with grace. “Bill Skarsgård is younger, hotter, and more famous than me,” he quips with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m genuinely excited to see what he brings to the role. There’s room in the world for both interpretations. Vampires have endless allure—why not double the Nosferatu this year?” And, having seen both films, I am inclined to agree.
Jones’ performance understands the human horrors that have plagued Orlok. “The final scene of the film was a crescendo for me,” he says, referencing the stunning moment when Orlok is famously butchered by sunlight. “He finally attains his ultimate desire, only to realize it comes at the ultimate cost. I wanted to show his humanity—a fleeting glimmer of regret and sorrow before he dissolves into nothing.” Paying homage to Schreck’s performance while incorporating his own sensibilities, Jones has found an incomparable balance of respect and originality in the role. “It could’ve been cheesy,” he says. “But I tried to anchor it in reality. Even monsters deserve their moment of truth.”
I’m eager to take our conversation into the topic of legacy—not just of Nosferatu but of Jones’ astonishing career as a go-to character actor. For over three decades, he’s inhabited monsters, bringing them to life in exciting and unconventional ways. “Monsters are metaphors,” Jones says. “They reflect our fears, desires, and vulnerabilities. I’ve always tried to find the heart beneath the horror.”
Jones’ performance in Nosferatu also allowed the actor to revisit some of cinema’s most timeless moments. “We kept those same exact moments from the silent film,” he says, referencing Orlok’s shadow climbing the staircase and his terrifying coffin awakening. “It’s such a haunting visual language. Playing those moments felt like stepping into a piece of cinematic history.” Jones continues, “Even the ending—where Orlok stands before the sun, grasping at his chest and dissolving—is a direct homage to Schreck. I wanted to convey the same emotion but with a modern sensibility.”
While the modern horror hero speaks with reverence for Schreck’s original performance, he’s also willing to fan out with me about other reinterpretations of Dracula. He names Willem Dafoe’s Oscar-nominated turn as Schreck in Shadow of the Vampire as a particular favorite. “That film’s tongue-in-cheek take on Schreck as a real vampire was brilliant,” Jones beams. “It’s a reminder of how elastic these characters can be.”
His overarching passion for horror is obvious through our chat and is likely rooted in his childhood memories of local horror broadcasts hosted by “Sammy Terry” in Indianapolis. “The first horror movie I ever saw was Boris Karloff in The Mummy,” he recalls. “The concept of the dead coming back to life haunted me. I guess it stuck—here I am decades later, still wrapped up in monsters.”
As the world of Nosferatu resurges in popularity, Jones’s unique imprint is an excellent reminder of why this strange version of a well-worn icon/trope has proven immortal. His Orlok is not just a shadowy figure on the stairs but a must-watch humanization of someone deeply monstrous. “Nosferatu is a timeless story because it’s about more than just a vampire,” he reflects. “It’s about longing, loss, and the things that make us human—or inhuman.”
When asked, Jones also reflects on the uniqueness of Fisher’s approach compared to Eggers’ blockbuster. “This isn’t just another vampire movie,” he says. “It’s a love letter to the original, but it’s also its own creation. The fusion of silent-film imagery with modern technology creates something dreamlike, almost hypnotic.”
In the modern world of horror at the box office, a landscape often dominated by spectacle, celebrity, and IP, Jones’s performance highlights the importance of independent artistry and risktaking. Whether a fan prefers Fisher’s experimental approach or Eggers’ big-budget affair, what matters most is that Nosferatu is as relevant as ever. And Doug Jones is now forever a part of its immortal story.
Categorized:Cover Stories Interviews News
