LET ME IN

LET ME IN (2010)
Written and directed by

Matt Reeves

Drama, Foreign, Horror, Mystery

Rated 15 116 minutes

| Roger Ebert
September 29, 2010 |
"Let Me In," like the Swedish film that
inspired it, deals brutally with the tragic life
of the vampire. It's not all fun, games and
Team Edward. No lifestyle depending on
fresh human blood can be anything but
desperate. A vampire, like a drug addict, is
driven by need. After a certain point, all else
is irrelevant, and the focus is on the craving.
The film is remarkably similar in tone and approach to " Let the Right One In," and
it is clear that the American writer-director, Matt Reeves, has admiration for the
Swedish writer-director, John Ajvide Lindqvist, who made the original. Reeves
understands what made the first film so eerie and effective, and here the same things
work again. Most U.S. audiences will be experiencing the story for the first time.
Those who know the 2008 version will notice some differences, but may appreciate
them.
The core story remains similar. Owen, a boy on the brink of adolescence, lives a
lonely life in a snowbound apartment complex with an alcoholic mother, hardly seen.
He is bullied at school by a sadistic boy, much larger. A girl named Abby and her
father move into the next apartment. She announces "I can never be your friend," but
some latent kindness causes her to feel protective toward the lonely and abused
child. Abby is a vampire, but vampires have their reality forced upon them, and
having lived for a long time, may have seen much to make them pity the living.
The story focuses tightly on Owen (Kodi Smit-McPhee) and Abby (Chloe Moretz, of
"Kick-Ass"). Two other adults are of consequence: Her "father" (Richard Jenkins),
who can hardly be her father and was probably, long ago, in Owen's shoes. In
vampire lore, he is her Familiar. The other adult is a local policeman, played by Elias
Koteas as a saturnine and solemn man. He's investigating a serial killer in the
region. Where there are vampires, there must always be serial killers.
The night and the cold are also characters. The film is shot in chill tones of blue and
gray, Owen and Abby have uncanny pale skin, there is frost on his breath, but not on
hers. She doesn't feel the cold, we gather. Or the warmth. Many of the events are the
same in both films, although the U.S. version adds one surprise that comes at a

useful time to introduce frightening possibilities: This is not a safe world, and bad
things can happen.
Both films end with scenes set in a swimming pool at night. The windows, high up
under the ceiling to admit sunlight, are dark and cold. We can imagine the clammy
tiles, the chill in the locker-room where Owen is so often picked on. The bullies call
him a "girl" and seem obsessed with seeing his genitals homophobic cruelty that
casts a sad light on the first film's revelation about Abby's body. Both these
characters feel sexually threatened or inadequate. It may only be me, but as I recall
indoor swimming pools at night in winter (at high school, or the YMCA), they always
had a whiff of mournful dread.
In the "Twilight" films, sexuality is treated as a tease. The handsome Edward is cast
as a sexy but dangerous threat, who manfully holds back from sex with Bella Swan.
She's tempted, but the films are cautionary fables about the danger of teenage sex. In
"Let Me In," sex is seen more as a troubling encroachment on privacy. Owen and
Abby for their own reasons quail from intimacy and contact, and their only sensuous
moments involve the comfort of close, tender hugs.
Where this will lead is easy to guess. Owen will move into Abby's life as her next
Familiar. She will protect him. Among the things she will save him from is the
necessity of growing up and functioning as a normal male. She will control
everything. Thus Bela's sweet masochism will become Owen's hunger to give over
control. To be a servant is the price for not being a victim. Those hoping to see a
"vampire movie" will be surprised by a good film.