Film review
Directed by Matt Reeves
Starring Chloë Moretz, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Richard Jenkins, Elias Koteas, Cara Buono
Release date 5 November 2010

Owen (Smit-McPhee) is a lonely, put upon child until he befriends Abby (Moretz), a peculiar girl who moves in next door and turns out to be a vampire…

Tomas Alfredson’s Let the Right One In was one of the decade’s best horror films. Considering its success, and the fact it was foreign language, an American remake was banally inevitable as death and taxes. And so we have Let Me In. But can it rise above the well worn remake trend and deliver in its own right? Will it, against the odds, produce a film to compliment the original rather than just regurgitate another hackneyed cash-in?

Sadly, no. Let Me In is another case of lost in translation. The heart of its source, along with the charm, pathos, intrigue and ambiguity, are lost and the film summons nothing to replace them. Though, for much of it, that may seem a curious complaint since Reeves directly translates, or rather lifts, entire sequences, dialogue and even camera angles straight from the original. It’s unclear at what point a remake becomes an exercise in plagiarism; whether Reeves deserves his ‘written and directed by’ credit is also doubtful.

That’s not to imply Let Me In is on a par with Gus Van Sant’s slavish retread of Psycho. There are a number of differences. Unfortunately, they’re all mistakes. Not crediting the English-speaking world with the level of intelligence that Alfredson afforded his Swedish audience, the filmmakers deem it necessary to dumb things down and spell them out.

The opening scene is a prime example. Whereas Alfredson carefully built the atmosphere, Reeves has us crashing into an action packed sequence that actually occurs mid-way through the film. Immediately, Let Me In’s rhythm is shot. It sucks the energy from the subsequent slow build and screws-up the momentum. There’s no need for it at all, besides American horror directors’ baffling fixation with alarming prologues, lest the audience fall asleep when the lights go down.

One of the great things about Let the Right One In was the way in which it hinted while holding back from definite answers. Let Me In can’t help but be explicit. For example, the nature of the relationship between Abby and her guardian is clunkily divulged; which, in turn, adds an unwelcome fatalistic touch to her relationship with Owen. More disappointingly, ambiguity over Abby’s gender, as there was with Eli in the original, is entirely absent. Perhaps it was considered too strong for American stomachs.


Indeed, the whole relationship between the two leads – the heart of the film – is far more simplistic than in the original. Rather than a growing connection between two intensely damaged outsiders, to a background of positive moral ambivalence, Let Me In posits the tired idea of good and evil. There’s a Reagan speech, shown twice, on the subject so you get the idea. Oskar (of Let the Right One In) was a prototype psychopath. Owen is a little messed up, but generally a nice, well adjusted kid. Consequently, the whole dynamic is reduced to the question of whether or not Abby is evil and if Owen can live with that and accept her. There’s no implicit understanding between them, their natures are too removed, and Owen’s attraction to her doesn’t really hold up. Still, the simplification will probably play well to the Twilight crowd.

Another regrettable absence is the removal of the group of friends. Through them, Alfredson was able to flesh out a collection of supporting characters and make the audience sympathise with some of the victims. Let Me In has no one of interest outside the two leads and the friends are replaced by a cop (Koteas) it’s impossible to feel anything for. The celebrated cat scene is gone too; though there’s some semblance of the one in which a woman awakes in hospital a vampire. It was great in the original, but here it’s meaninglessly recast in OTT style and rendered absurd.

Moretz and Smit-McPhee are passable in their roles; they manage what’s required but never get close to touching the inspired performances of their predecessors. The CGI effects used in Abby’s transformation are best forgotten, though the image of Gollum on crack may linger.

For the school of thought that maintains a remake should be judged on its own merits, and not by constant reference to the source, it can be said that Let Me In is a thoroughly mediocre and underwhelming horror film with nice cinematography. Taking the original into account, there’s no reason for it to exist. “It is a story that should be available to a wider audience,” claims Simon Oakes, president and CEO of Hammer Films (who produced). True, but Let Me In’s audience is people who can’t read subtitles. Joe Green

VERDICT: 3/10
Alternates between thieving and fumbling; make sure you Let the Right One In.