Let Me In

In a sad time when the vampire genre is being trashed and burned with nonsensical Twilight novels and films, in comes an American film that so comfortably and subtly handles the aspirations of the vamp. Let Me In is an adaptation of a novel and inspired by the Swedish film Let the Right One In. I think it is almost impossible not to bring up the original foreign import when discussing Matt Reeves’s new film. Does this stand as a giant obstacle to the film or some kind of unwarranted distraction? I think the answer is sort of neither. Sure, Let Me In borrows heavily from Let the Right One In, even some of the scenes, particularly when our two leads meet, are shot frame for frame. However, director Reeves conjures up just the right amount of horror magic to instill into the production, not once touching the beautiful life message vibrating throughout the John Ajvide Lindqvist novel. To understand and appreciate Let Me In is to realize the endless possibilities that cinema has to offer. To say it plain and simple, this is the best American vampire film in quite some time.

I was curious to why Reeves decided to helm the project in the beginning. I dug most of Cloverfield alright, but the style and viral campaign of that film greatly contrasts to what made Let the Right One In so beautifully fresh; the Swedish import expressed a carefully built tone and mood one does not find in horror films these days. Characters were built with deliberation and concentration so that by the end, we care and sympathize with what predicaments they might find themselves in. Fortunately and quite surprisingly, Reeves keeps all of this intact and then some. He keeps the same 1983 setting but moves the place to New Mexico. The cold and damp mood of the movie is brought back, even at times surpassing in technical achievement to what was revealed to us back in 2008. The plot and characters remain the same, as we observe a troubled boy and a vampire girl meet and form a special and unique friendship that I doubt many newcomers are ever going to forget. Owen (Kodi Smit-McPhee) is that lonely misfit that has no friends and parents that are too busy with divorce to even pay two seconds of attention to him. A scene where Owen calls his father in order to make sense of the supernatural and evil ends up transforming into a painfully authentic touch on the act of neglect. It is just one of many shots that I really was not ready for based on the director’s prior work.

Owen spends much of his time hiding in his room, spying on his courtyard neighbors with a telescope, perhaps borrowing a bit form Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Nonetheless, it increases and stabilizes the isolation and loneliness we share with Owen. Chloe Morentz plays Abby and she meets Owen while he is stabbing a tree with a pocket knife. She can clearly see that something is wrong with the boy and is intrigued by what she sees.  Owen is bothered by school bullies and this is what he is thinking about while stabbing that tree. He also wears a weird and creepy-looking mask and looks in the mirror, mimicking and impersonating the bully who insists on tantalizing him. While his mother seems to worry and care about him, she is too preoccupied with the behavior from her soon-to-be ex-husband, and Reeves carefully follows her with blurred, out-of-focus shots. We never see the father and this just enhances that isolation state that really strikes through the entire undercurrent of the film.

Abby’s caretaker (Richard Jenkins) appears to be a sort of grown-up version of Owen. He is a man who we first see straddling behind Abby as they make their way into the new apartment. Besides Abby, he has no real friends and spends most of his nights collecting blood for the vamp girl. Is he her father? If you’ve seen/read the original material you already know the answer. However, it is still very intriguing and effective to watch Jenkins wrestle with the character. You can clearly see the frustration and tired emotions in the facial expressions of Jenkins; how long will he continue to do this? He appears to be feeling his age, why doesn’t he just leave Abby? This echoes back to the fragile and vulnerability of the human mind, and how, at times, we are easily persuaded and manipulated into doing things we never knew we were capable of. Owen is urged to take action against his bully by Abby, hinting that she is stronger than appears and can easily get the job done. Owen finds himself taking vengeance against his bully, and this is something that we clearly never would have suspected given the behavior and appearance of Owen earlier in the story.

What Reeves does differently, and in my opinion improves upon, is the injection of horror into the atmosphere. Luckily, he does not let this element interfere with the carefully weaved coming-of-age story between Owen and Abby. One of the better sequences involves Abby’s caretaker and his last job of trying to get blood. Things do not go according to plan and it is a riveting couple of minutes to watch. You know the man commits murders, but you feel such empathy for him because of the current state he finds himself in. We feel for him because we feel for Owen; Abby’s “father” is as much the caretaker as he is the symbol for Owen and his potential future. Furthermore, the music in the film bravely compliments the cold and enriched setting. When we are dealing with Owen and his misfortunes as a loner, we are engulfed with those feelings and emotions. When Abby is in need for blood and must hunt down a victim, we receive feelings of dread and despair. Director Reeves’s choice to reform the face of Abby when she goes into vampire mode helps a great deal, and gives off the feelings that this is a vampire who is capable of destruction and devastation. Reeves does not let the film switch into autopilot, there is always something consistently moving forward.

If I have any gripes with Let Me In they can be explained in two fold. For one, Reeves decided to use CGI body movements to flatter Abby’s attacks on her victims. Those scenes lose some steam because of how fake and dysfunctional the appearance is. The increased budget and his graceful tactics in Cloverfield makes this critique a bit disappointing on Reeves’s part. Secondly, it is hard to explain exactly why Let Me In has to exist when we have a perfectly adequate Swedish film that is just as good, if not better. Nevertheless, Let Me In is a terrific vampire film that partly shines because of just how good its two leads are. Smit-McPhee reels you in with his sorrow eyes and isolated state of being. Meanwhile, Chloe Morentz continues to dazzle with her great string of performances. Ranging from a walking-talking child with an adult mind in 500 Days of Summer, to her fun and exciting work in Kick-Ass, Morentz seems to have a fresh future in her crosshairs and I am delighted to anticipate what she does next. Let Me In is as much a vampire movie as it is a film about the vulnerability of a child. The ultimatum of any parent’s life is to pass life on to their children, and have those children pass it on to their children. Sometimes we forget why we do the things we do, and we become selfish and self-centered, always concerned with what we want and what is best for us. Worrying about yourself is all well and good, but try not to forget that kid sitting at the kitchen table. He may reply with “good,” but there he’ll be outside waiting for that special someone that’ll listen.

★★★½