Let The Right One In

When it comes to monsters and things that go bump in the night, I'm not a huge fan of zombies, werewolves or swamp things. I gravitate more toward ghosts and vampires, but that's not to say I'm not open to the former, or that I'm predisposed to like the latter without a second thought.

Let The Right One In isn't even my favorite kind of vampire story — I'm into the suave, sophisticated type, while this flick features grubby, desperate ones — but I have to say it's one of the better scary movies I've seen in awhile. It's effective and thought-provoking and works as not only a horror film, but as a film.

Made in Sweden, this oddball teen love fable plays out like Twilight meets My Bodyguard as directed by Ingmar Bergman. At the helm is Tomas Alfredson; on the page (both the novel, and the screenplay) is John Ajvide Lindqvist; and making it all come to frosty, bleak life is DP Hoyte Van Hoytema. Deepening the shivery, supernatural spell is an able score by Johan Soderqvist. In front of the camera are our two central characters, pubescent Oskar (Kåre Hedebrant), and ageless Eli (Lina Leandersson).

It's bitter winter, 1982, when we meet Oskar, a much-bullied, sallow boy whose father has essentially deserted him and whose mother is doing the best she can for them on a meager salary. The two of them eke out an existence in a cavernous housing project; she working, he going to public school and ever fantasizing about taking revenge on his tormentors.

Late one freezing evening, Oskar is outside playing. (And by playing, I mean viciously stabbing a tree with a penknife.) Suddenly, a girl about his age is standing behind him. She's new to the apartments, and he's intrigued by her dark, feral beauty. Not shy, he strikes up a conversation and they become friends. Before long, Oskar figures out that Eli is not a normal girl… she's a vampire. And the kids are definitely not alright.

The vampiric aspects of Let The Right One In are definitely more del Toro's Cronos than Coppola's Dracula. These bloodsuckers aren't remotely cool or sexy. Eli resides with what passes as her father, Hakan (Per Ragnar), an older undead who's getting tired, weak, and careless. He's a bumbling killer, barely able to bring his prey down and hardly capable of covering his tracks. Eli does the best she can to provide for him, while also finding it in her heart to care for Oskar.

Let The Right One In is mostly bleak and fairly static in its approach, but once in awhile an over-the-top CGI scene bullies its way in. While I can't say these moments of abject terror work entirely, they are appropriately shocking and they do serve their purpose. Unlike a traditional horror tale, there's no suspense leading up to the violence — they are violent outbursts, pelting like hailstorms and then concluding as quickly as they began.

We see lots of blood and gore, preternatural vampiric powers, as well as some of the expected tradition (animals are frightened of the blood-craving creatures; mirrors don't reflect them; no amount of SPF is sufficient; and, yes, they must be invited into a home before they can enter it). Yet, that's a very small part of Oskar and Eli's story.

There isn't much exposition in Let The Right One In, but the stoic performances and the slow unfurling of the characters' relationships tells you everything you need to know — and feel. It's a truly touching evocation of human (and inhuman) frailties, drives and desires.

= = =

Reviewed by Staci Layne Wilson