DVD: Let the Right One In

I wrote a review of this unsettling vampire flick a few months back for FilmSlash, but it was never published (unfortunately that site is, at best, on indefinite hiatus and, at worst, totally defunct. More details on that as they come in). With the film now on DVD however, the review is worth revisiting. Be careful though; according to an article posted yesterday on the AV Club, first pressings of the DVD featured subtitles that were "dumbed-down" from the ones used during the film's original theatrical run (follow this link to find out how to tell between the new-and-improved 2nd edition and the much-maligned first version). Anyway, here's the review:

Among the criticisms leveled at quasi-vampire movies like 30 Days of Night and I am Legend is that these films emphasize only the feral, animalistic tendencies of vampires, down-playing the more human attributes that arguably make them so scary in the first place. While sharp teeth and inhuman strength are clearly redoubtable traits, it’s the seductiveness and feigned innocence of the vampire that is most threatening (after all, according to many histories of the monster, a vampire can’t even enter somebody’s house unless invited). This last bit of peculiar lore provides Let the Right One In with its title and also hints at the film’s subtext. Its story is a wintry gothic love tale that recounts the friendship between a tirelessly-harassed schoolboy named Oskar (Kare Hedebrant) and a centuries-old vampire named Eli (Lina Leandersson) stuck perpetually in her eight-year old form. Their strange union is forged by varying degrees of affection, loneliness, and mutual necessity, and under the subtle direction of Tomas Alfredson, the audience is left to determine themselves the extent to which each of these elements makes up the basis for Eli and Oskar’s relationship. Meanwhile, Eli herself will surely meet the approval of more reactionary fans of the vampire genre as she is capable of both gentle coyness and ferocious violence. With her saintly Anne Frank resemblance and sober demeanor beyond her years, Leandersson provides an added edge to this methodically paced, slow-burning chiller that recalls the prickly storytelling of another classic of modern European horror, The Devil’s Backbone.


“Squeal pig, squeal,” are the film’s first words and they come from Oskar as he toys with a knife and imagines torturing the bullies who regularly assail him with physical and verbal barbs (this unsettling combination of whimsy and sadism continues throughout the plot’s fanciful yet disturbing twists and turns). That night, new neighbors move in next door and the audience is introduced to Eli and her mortal caretaker, Hakan (Per Ragnar), who collects fresh blood for his thirsty young companion with the gloomy efficiency of an adept deer hunter who’s also a closet animal lover. Both outcasts in their own way, Eli and Oskar become fast friends, absconding each night to the frigid yard surrounding their apartment complex to play with Rubix cubes and discuss retaliation against Oskar’s tormentors. Paradoxically, Eli’s presence is calming to Oskar even as she encourages and prods his secret violent tendencies. The nature of her influence is ambiguous; Oskar’s own taste for blood is evident before he even befriends Eli. And although she is the first to suggest a counterattack, the deafening blow Oskar lays on one of his cruelest classmates is largely a manifestation of the newfound confidence he receives from her companionship. Nevertheless, as her own personal bloodmaid Hakar becomes less and less effective with age, it is difficult to deny the incentive for Eli, under the guise of her affectionate precocity, to unleash Oskar’s darker side.


Beyond the director’s intricate focus on Eli and Oskar’s unconventional friendship, Alfredson also proves to be a skilled purveyor of horror-show thrills, indulging in jump-out scares and even a few scenes of reasonably nauseating gore while never letting these haunted house conventions overwhelm or cheapen the power of the story. When Alfredson’s not decapitating his characters, having them spontaneously combust, or disfiguring their faces with acid (in a scene that makes Two-Face from The Dark Knight look about as scary as, well, Two-Face from Batman Forever), he employs a quiet and reserved approach. At times, the pacing is so diligently slow, lingering on long shots of wintry night skies and snow-blanketed expanses, that Alfredson seems to intentionally dampen the drama of the story for the sake of cultivating realism and emphasizing the film’s fiercely unexpected climax.


Though firmly rooted in the traditions of classic vampire cinema, there is little else you could call conventional about Let the Right One In. The film is predominantly concerned with presenting the joys and perils of intimacy, as Oskar risks both body (the explicit danger posed by Eli as a vampire) and soul (the implicit threat of making sacrifices for a love that may or may not be pure). The film is no more certain of Eli’s intentions than Oskar is, but Alfredson bracingly puts the audience into Oskar’s head as the director charts the boy’s leap of faith into the arms of a possible fiend. Let the Right One In merges the thrill of falling in love with the thrill of our worse nocturnal fears, creating a dark and exciting vision that will please hard-core horror fans along with arthouse moviegoers. And if you’re both of these things? Well, it doesn’t get much better than this.

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