LET ME IN
Written & Directed by Matt Reeves, based on the novel Lat den Ratte Komma In by John Ajvide Lindqvist
Produced by Simon Oakes, Alex Brunner, Guy East, Tobin Armbrust & Donna Gigliotti
Released by Overture Films
UK/USA. 115 min. Rated R
With Chloë Grace Moretz, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Richard Jenkins & Elias Koteas
 

The debut film from from the rebooted Hammer Films production company (yes, that Hammer), Let Me In retells the 2008 Swedish film Let the Right One In. As usual with Hollywood, the American remake, by way of Cloverfield director Matt Reeves, comes along to help along those folks who just can’t stand the pesky subtitles. That film had an original approach for a vampire movie, centering on outcasts who were relatable and felt real. And yet I didn’t go in to Let Me In ready to tear it apart, and sure enough the fair shake paid off.

This is in many ways just as sensitive a character study, with its own precise and taking-its-time pacing and deliciously dark and cold cinematography by Greig Fraser. It’s more than just another remake. It stands its ground as its own preteen R-rated horror film that’s more about growing up and being cared for or cared after than its exploitation-style trailer would suggest.

The plot, and indeed most scenes save for an excised subplot involving a cat lady, is practically identical to the original. Oskar is now Owen (The Road’s Kodi Smit-McPhee), lives with his soon-to-be-divorced mother. He’s a loner, trying to act tough but still unable to fend off the vicious school bullies. Enter Abby, formerly Eli, who moves in next door to Owen. She immediately warns him to stay away from her, but Owen’s Rubik’s Cube catches her interest. Soon Owen asks Abby to go steady in an amusing carbon copy of a scene from the Swedish version. But meanwhile around their apartment complex, there are some mysterious attacks and deaths going on. Lo and behold, Abby is a vampire. And she may not really be as old as she says she is. She’s 12, “more or less,” she says, deadpan, to him.

To be sure Reeves omits certain details from the original that, frankly, I didn’t miss, albeit there’s a death scene in a hospital that loses its impact because one character is less defined, but the relationship between Owen and Abby is as strong as before. Perhaps even better this time thanks to the performances by Smit-McPhee, a natural after only a couple of films, and Moretz, who shows much more range than in her breakthrough role earlier this year in Kick-Ass. Richard Jenkins as Abby’s protector, who’s involved in one of the most creatively and frighteningly staged car crashes in modern film, and Elias Koteas, as a concerned police officer, are given some good scenes to chew on.

The film appears to be so close to the original in tone and style and performance (most scenes copied word for word) that it’s almost comparable to a film director just changing the cast, like in this year’s remake of Death at a Funeral. But Reeves alters how the film plays out, specifically in the choice of music by Michael Giacchino (Lost). Instead of the quieter moments of the original, here the bombast and musical cues tell us how to feel. This is fine in some of the creepy and lead-up-to horror moments, but there are some scenes where one wishes Reeves and Giacchino would keep it quiet. It’s one of the few things preventing the film from being much better than it would appear to be from the advertisements. Jack Gattanella
October 2, 2010