TikTok is not just an entertainment platform, it has become a true incubator of aesthetic and cultural trends. At the same time, streaming platforms play a key role in shaping tastes and consumer behavior, creating an ecosystem where social media and on-demand content are mutually influencing each other.

Social media and streaming platforms are increasingly interconnected: aesthetics and trends born on TikTok often gain momentum through TV series, and vice versa. This was the case with the TV seriesWednesday, patron of goth style and the lesser-known but highly popular dark academia—an aesthetic and cultural movement inspired by classical academia, Gothic literature, and existentialist philosophy. 

The scene where the protagonist dances in an eccentric and carefree way went viral on TikTok after a user replaced the original song with an equally (if not more) fitting one: Bloody Mary by Lady Gaga.

If Wednesday marked the beginning, Nosferatu now represents the peak of the goth revival, fostered by productions such as Beetlejuice and Lisa Frankenstein but also by some more unexpected ones, like Oppenheimer, which was associated with the style, albeit unintentionally. 

Robert Eggers’ movie captures the timeless essence of Nosferatu—the quintessential vampire—with a special focus on the eerie and melancholic atmosphere of German Expressionist cinema. Its spectral elegance and uneasiness become not only a tribute to Murnau’s masterpiece but also a modern reinterpretation, blending horror, art, and social commentary.

Compared to the 1922 movie it pays homage to, Nosferatu the Vampire, the remake adds new nuances to the story, enriching it with contemporary significance. Count Orlok, the vampire, is no longer a demonic entity haunting the Hutter family and their hometown—he becomes a personification of humanity’s deepest needs and desires. Eggers’ rewriting skillfully plays with aesthetics, turning every visual detail into a narrative element. 

For instance, the protagonist Ellen wears a front-laced corset, which she can tighten by herself—a clear symbol of a femininity striving for self-determination, but also of not having someone to help her fasten it behind her back. The heavy, oppressive layers of fabric further reflect her emotional and social burdens.

Therefore, clothing is not just costume: beyond highlighting the power dynamics between men and women, it emphasizes the social differences between the Hutter family and their friends in the changing industrial society, where technological progress and the rise of capitalism coexisted with deep inequalities.

It is no coincidence that goth emerged during the economic boom of the 1980s as a countercultural response to a society obsessed with wealth and materialism—a critical reflection that echoes both in the early days of capitalism and in today’s era, its ultimate expression. This connection between vampirism and capitalist greed is not accidental: the vampire, the quintessential parasitic and insatiable figure, becomes a metaphor for a system that feeds on the resources (and lives) of others, turning goth into an aestheticized critique of unbridled consumerism. 

Nosferatu-core, an aesthetic that celebrates the macabre, the gothic, and the vampiric, finds its perfect embodiment in this movie. Its success is driven by several factors: nostalgia for a time when goth was a true counterculture, the desire to stand out in an increasingly homogenized digital landscape, and the search for aesthetic and conceptual depth in an era often perceived as superficial.

On TikTok, it comes to life through videos that blend visual, musical, and narrative elements: long black silhouettes, shadows cast on dark walls, flickering candles, and period clothing. The ideal soundtrack ranges from darkwave to post-punk, with contemporary tracks reimagined in a darker style.

What sets it apart from other iterations of goth is its cultural sophistication. It goes beyond mere aesthetics, engaging thoughtfully with the history of cinema and art, and reviving the existential unease and social critique that characterized German Expressionism.

However, an important paradox emerges: a counterculture born as an opposition to materialism is now being commercialized through the very platforms that embody the peak of digital economy—turned into trends easily purchased with a simple tap on a screen, feeding the same capitalist greed it metaphorically criticizes.

This contradiction may confirm the cyclical nature of cultural trends. Its return seems to mark moments of crisis and social transformation, offering an aesthetic language to manifest collective unease in an era of uncertainty and growing inequality.

In this sense, Nosferatu-core is not just a fad—it is a reflection of our times, an elegant shadow stretching across the bright screen of the present. 

Opening image: Robert Eggers, Nosferatu, 2024