Unsettling Let Me In a Worthy Remake
The 2008 Swedish import Let the Right One In took the booming vampire horror subgenre and gave it a much needed infusion of both smarts and adrenaline. Director Tomas Alfredson adapted John Ajvide Lindqvist’s (who also wrote the screenplay) acclaimed novel of a lonely and bullied adolescent boy’s surreal friendship with a vampire trapped in the body of a 12-year-old and made it feel brand new. With unparalleled restraint and beauteous visual ingenuity he achieved something close to sinisterly spooky perfection, crafting a tense and terrific character study audiences almost couldn’t help but be drawn to.
Chloë Grace Moretz and Kodi Smit-McPhee in Let Me In © Overture Films
It almost goes without saying that Cloverfield director Matt Reeves remake Let Me In starring Chloë Grace Moretz, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Richard Jenkins and Elias Koteas is completely unnecessary. The original film is barely two years old, so the chances a viewer who has seen both would be able to separate one from the other are just about nil.
As I’ve seen both, writing this review is far more difficult than I ever thought it would be. The simple truth is that Reeves has done something extraordinary with Let Me In. His film is an incredibly strong piece of work, all of the actors turning in expert performances that got under my skin and burrowed their way into my subconscious. It is a deeply visceral, highly unsettling drama, and had the memory of Alfredson’s original not still been sitting so close to the forefront of my brainpan I’d almost proclaim this character-driven exercise in delicate horror as one of 2010’s best.
The problem is I’m having trouble disassociating one from the other. These films are in such close proximity I almost can’t help but allow my strong feelings for the Swedish version to influence my opinion of the American one. A gut reaction is to proclaim that Reeves’ film is nothing more than a shot-for-shot copy, that all he did was take what was great about Alfredson’s version and reproduce it.
But this isn’t true. Yes some scenes have a certain similarity to them, and for viewers who thrilled to the original a lot of the surprise as to where everything is ultimately heading is undeniably muted. Yet as a standalone motion picture this one unquestionably rises above the fray. Reeves script is smart, yet subtle, while his work behind the camera shows a sublime delicacy I’d never have expected from the guy who gave us the rambunctious and visually frenetic Cloverfield.
Additionally, as great as the two child actors were in Let the Right One In, former Kick-Ass Hit Girl Moretz and one-time The Road wanderer Smit-McPhee are extraordinary. Unlike the original film, I really felt for Owen, and as young put-upon protagonists go I was drawn to him in ways that slit slivers from my heart one scene at a time. I could feel his pain, related to his uncertainty, and even though I knew it might lead to his downfall I could easily understand why he’d allow himself to become entangled with the barefoot newcomer who had just moved into his New Mexico apartment complex.
As for Moretz, what she does with Abby is astonishing. She adds layers to this nighttime wanderer that weren’t there in Alfredson’s original and are only hinted at in Reeves’ sometimes a bit too minimalist script. She paints a picture full of a weary and exhausted perspective, and even though she warns Owen the two of them can’t be friends the longing for one in her eyes and her yearning for a type companionship she can never have are as readily apparent as drops of blood in a white, snow-covered field.
I will say that Alfredson did a bit better job of developing Abby’s stone-faced benefactor and caretaker than Reeves does, and while Jenkins does what he can portraying him my emotions for the guy never ran past this surface level. There is also something to be said about the almost laughable use of CGI, and while that probably has more to do with budgetary constraints than it does with anything else that doesn’t make the few scenes utilizing the technology any less laughable. Finally, a key plot point in regards to one character’s gender is pretty much (if not quite entirely) dropped, lessoning the impact of Owen’s climactic decision if only just a little.
But as remakes go Reeves’ take on Lindqvist’s novel is remarkably close to being as good as Alfredson’s was. As unnecessary as it is, Let Me In firmly stands on its own as an unsettling piece of intelligently literate horror, one genre fans willing to take it on its own merits will almost certainly enjoy.
- Review reprinted courtesy of the SGN in Seattle
Film Rating: êêê (out of 4)
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