Breathe a sigh of relief, internet. Let Me In, US director Matt Reeves’ version of critically-acclaimed Swedish film Let the Right One In is every bit as brilliant as its foreign cousin.
When it was announced in 2009 that Reeves, best known for the polarising monster hit Cloverfield, would direct a version of the film set in the US, there was an instant backlash on the net. The Swedish film had only just been released outside of its home country and to immediately start on an American version seemed to reinforce everything we hate about Hollywood – the strip mining of original ideas to deliver a dumbed down version for a more mainstream audience. But in moving the action to New Mexico, USA, and keeping the ’80s mid-winter setting, Reeves has delivered a movie every bit as violent, horrifying, moody, touching and emotional as the original.
Owen (Kodi Smit-McPhee) is a skinny 12-year-old kid hounded by bullies at school and friendless at home where he lives with his recently separated mum (whose face we never see, adding power to Owen’s isolation). He spends his time spying on his neighbours and dreaming about getting his revenge on the cruel bullies who make his life hell. When the strange young girl Abby (Chloe Moretz) and an elderly man (Richard Jenkins), move into the apartment next door, the youngsters are drawn to each other through their shared loneliness. As they become close, Abby reveals a dark secret to Owen - she feeds on blood and is much older than she seems. With a determined policeman on Abby’s trail, Owen must put aside his fears to protect their friendship.
If you didn’t know it already, the two leads are incredible talents. Aussie Smit-McPhee was brilliant in The Road, realised earlier this year, and Moretz is best known for her controversial role as Hit Girl in comic adaptation Kick Ass. Both are surprisingly mature actors, and here they deliver touching and nuanced performances as kids alienated by their respective lives. Abby is alternately cruel and sweet, but her cruelness isn’t calculated, it’s simply a by product of what she’s endured and become. Owen is lonely and lost, and his attraction and loyalty to Abby can be more put down to this loneliness than true love and romance. But at 12 years old, it all feels the same, and the pair portrays the developing relationship with tenderness and restraint.
It isn’t all candy and rainbows though. Reeves dishes up plenty of shocks and buckets of blood, though it isn’t just gore for gore’s sake. As Abby’s minder (solid work from Jenkins in a very un-Richard Jenkins type role) heads out to find her blood, he takes more and more risks, culminating in one of the movie’s best scenes, a one-shot car crash filmed from inside the vehicle. Elias Koteas (who’ll always be Casey Jones from the first live-action Ninja Turtles movie to me), as the policeman investigating the murders that follow Abby’s arrival, is world-weary and likable, and his ultimate fate is all the more shocking and powerful because of it.
The story sticks to classic vampire lore, with Abby only able to enter through a window or door of a private residence after being invited (hence the title). Almost every scene shows someone’s reflection, whether it’s in a row of mailboxes, a TV screen, mirror or window, but Abby’s is never seen. A photograph of her and her minder, taken when the now elderly man was about Abby’s age, does show Abby, but whether this is when she was really a little girl or not is never made clear. The word vampire is only used once, when Owen asks Abby flat out if she is one. She doesn’t answer yes or no, she simply tells him she needs blood to survive. It’s clearly implied, but by never openly saying she’s a vampire, the film stays a little more grounded in reality.
All this isn’t to say that Let Me In hasn’t suffered for its trip to New Mexico. In trying to show how savage vampiric Abby can be, Reeves has opted for some surprisingly cheap computer effects. If the $20 million budget wasn’t enough to cover the cost of these key scenes, then perhaps a more practical way should have been found to show Abby in full attack mode. In 2010, the audience expects a lot more than this. It’s all the more disappointing because the rest of the work by effects company DIVE, including some incredible work on an acid burnt face, is good, making these moments even more offensive.
Some allowances have been made for US audiences, too. The neighbours are now an attractive young couple instead of old drunks, but this works well within the context of Reeves’ film. Abby is now assumed to be a girl (the book and Swedish film have Eli, the Abby role, as a castrated boy), though a scene in which Owen watches Abby get dressed after a shower leaves this open, simply showing the boy’s reaction. Let Me In isn’t as mainstream as people may be expecting and it’s a credit to Reeves for sticking with the original’s dark and disturbing undertones.
No one seems to be talking about the cinematography of Aussie director of photography Greig Fraser (Bright Star, The Boys are Back, and the great Victorian Tourism ad featuring the girl walking around Melbourne with the giant ball of wool), which is a shame, because Fraser’s work is one of the key’s to the film’s success. He keeps the frame tight and symmetrical, enhancing the tension as well creating an intimacy between the leads that drives home their relationship. The ‘80s setting is reinforced through great set design and costume work, with the more obvious references (President Reagan, Rubik’s Cube, Ms. Pac-Man) supported by subtle items in the background, like the toys in Owen’s room and the music of Bowie. Composer Michael Giacchino’s score is, as always, perfectly suited to the film. It won’t win him another Oscar like his brilliant and ambitious work on Up, but it certainly enhances the dark and bleak ’80s mood on show.
One of the strongest scenes of the Swedish version – featuring one of Eli/Abby’s victims in hospital – is handled less extravagantly here, perhaps in a bid to differentiate the two. Reeves (who also wrote the script) claims to have gone back to the book rather than the original movie in deciding what plot points to emphasis, but it’s hard to see that on screen. The two movies are obviously pretty similar and the question does need to be asked whether this version was even necessary. But given that Let Me In will surpass the total worldwide gross of Let the Right One In in less than a month, its success is indisputable. It’s clear that American audiences are reluctant to see subtitled films, but we’re not much better here in Australia. If Let Me In leads some people back firstly to Let the Right One In, then great. If it opens people up to the idea of seeing more foreign films of this kind, then even better. As long as it doesn’t lead to a rash of poor US remakes, like Hollywood’s Japanese inspired horror phase of the early 2000s, then we’ll be right.
Rating: 8/10
