Reviewed by Steven Kiernan
Stars Kåre Hedebrant, Lina Leandersson, Per Ragnar, Henrik Dahl, Karin Bergquist, Peter Carlberg, Ika Nord, Mikael Rahm, Karl-Robert Lindgren, Anders T Peedu, Pale Olofsson
Written by John Ajvide Lindqvist
Certification UK 15 | US R
Runtime 115 minutes
Directed by Tomas Alfredson
Other vampire films have played on the "have-to-be-invited-in" aspect of the mythology (notably 1987 classic The Lost Boys). But few, if any, have used it to such dramatic effect as this Swedish lo-fi frightener.
It’s mid-winter 1982 in working class Blackeberg, Sweden, where 12-year-old Oskar lives with his divorced mother in a dingy tower block. He’s a social outcast, friendless, resentful and tormented by local bully Conny and his cronies. Things change when Eli and her adult, ahem, “carer” Håkan move in next door late one night. From the moment Håkan boards up the windows, we’re left in little doubt that the dark-haired gypsy-like Eli is of the vampiric persuasion.
John Ajvide Lindqvist, author of both novel and screenplay, has deftly rewritten the vampire guidebook. Eli is not evil; there’s a self-loathing about her murderous thirst. Nor is her curse given any Anne Rice-style sexing up; there is something sickeningly real about her young mouth caked in blood and dark stains on her clothes. The story is a maze of clouded morals and few concrete answers. An unsettling question mark hangs over immortal-but-still-underage Eli’s sexuality, both via Håkan’s twisted fatherly devotion and the growing relationship with Oskar. As Eli teaches Oskar to plan his revenge on the bullies, and Oskar taps into the little vampire girl’s dormant humanity, we’re left wondering whether she wants Oskar as her boyfriend or her next meal.
There’s some well-placed black humour, especially watching Håkan’s blundering attempts to get fresh supplies of Eli’s favourite claret. But the film loses points for drawing a few unintentional laughs. The pacing is almost perfect, always underplayed but steadily building to a crescendo for the brutal climax. Only almost perfect, though – the first half is just too slow. The sparse script sometimes drifts into dullness, but we’re more than compensated for these lulls with the sharp spikes of violence. However, it’s not a gore-fest – much of the most extreme horror occurs off-screen – and it doesn’t rely on the shock tactics that pass as scary in most modern horror films. Let The Right One In is an utterly uncomfortable, disconcerting yet strangely upbeat experience, proving that far from being overdone, there’s still life – or unlife – in the vampire movie yet.
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SECOND OPINION | Duncan Bain **** Oskar is not a happy 12-year-old. He is frequently bullied by the other boys at school and spends the evenings skulking around his broken home, harbouring fantasies of revenge whilst keeping a scrap book of any reported murders. It would be tempting to say he is not your normal pre-adolescent, but for all his insecurities, perhaps he’s not that different from you or I at that age: confused, scared, looking for love or at least guidance. Let the Right One In finds young Oskar living in an early 80s snowy suburb of Stockholm. When a young girl moves in next door, his attentions are quickly enchanted away from his kitchen-sink drudgery, and the two soon begin to form a firm relationship.
When people say “vampire film,” chances are you’ll think of Christopher Lee in Dracula; the action-packed Blade movies, or maybe even mopey emo-teens in Twilight. This film is an entirely different beast. The vampire in question here is neither animalistic, spiteful, nor celebratory. Feeding is an unenviable Hobson’s choice, and treated like a dirty secret. Stockholm’s wintry setting forces a snowed-in placidity on the story and its players. With everything bathed in an almost antiseptic white glow, it is only the garish 80s winter wear or the occasional splash of bright red blood on white snow that shocks you out of the setting’s muted mundanity. Such a deliberately bland backdrop means that focus is cleverly forced onto the characters and their relative needs. Admittedly there are a handful of violent or shocking scenes, but rather than go for explicit gore, it is the casual acceptance and display of these events that ground them in a stronger reality, backed up by justifiable motivations.
Alas, no film is without its flaws, and a sub-plot involving gossipy townsfolk detracts from the main story, feeling sometimes like an Eastern Bloc telenovela, reaching its nadir with a needless and silly CGI fracas. The film’s two young leads are both convincing and winning as characters who are (differently) old beyond their physical age, but crystallised for this instant in pre-pubescent, sexless bodies, and it is in these two individuals that we consistently find the film’s most nuanced and expressive moments. Let the Right One In is a thoughtful, considered, and provocative film. The characters have weight and believability, they earn their resolutions and our trust in them. You will most likely find yourself thinking about this film for days afterwards, and for that it must be applauded.