Let the Right Film In

I took a European film class last year which was, shamefully, my first real education (academically, but more importantly, personally) on foreign films.  Sure I have dabbled with some Japanese horrors, and with the odd foray into French phantasms, but the cinema I explored during those glorious few months transcended my expectations of what film, not simply narrative, could achieve.

Mmm, this is a little naive to have come from a third and, ahem, final year undergraduate, no?  I admit it, I was ignorant.  Which is daunting as I had previously regarded myself as something of a film buff.

However I have since committed to expanding my knowledge.  So when I saw Let Me In had been released, I was not going to be tempted by the Americanized version, I sought Tomas Alfredson's Let the Right One In in its stead.  Though I was skeptical.  Vampire films are after all the genre du jour.  If it is one thing more detestable than corrupt bankers and government officials, it is melancholic glittery vampires.

Let the Right One In tells the story of the complicated, burgeoning relationship between Oskar, a youngster tormented by bullying and emotionally torn by the separation of his parents, and Eli the mysterious vampire that moves in next door to Oskar.  By depicting Oskar's experiences with his bullies in numerous cold environments, and his solitude in the abandoned, snow covered playground, Alfredson illustrates Oskar's isolation in the depths of the world.  However, this alienation, mush like the one Eli suffers through in the attempt to keep her secret safe, is just that, a safety for them.

One of Oskar's many confrontations with his bullies.

The intimate encounters, or as intimate as prepubescent teens can be, are the focus of the film. The moment in where Eli climbs naked into bed with Oskar is undoubtedly uncomfortable, but the innocence of their ages forces you to see beyond the sexual undertones.  This moment clarifies the narrative intentions.  The characters have transcended, by no longer seeking comfort in solitude, they seek one another.

The sparse nature of the film and its action is what I find so attractive about the Swedish films I have seen, (not many I will admit).  They lack the urgency so prominent in the Hollywood formula, and that is a relief.  The narrative economy leads to a more startling connection to the film and, like Hitchcock cinema of old, suspense itself is a character.

The vampirish elements takes a back-burner to the proceedings of the film, and when Eli's sufferings do come into the fray they are a lot more realistic.  And bloody.  There is no such nonsense as vegetarian vamps, or True Blood.  When Eli is hungry Alfredson does not shy away from showing her pain and misery.  Eli's vampire is shown not simply to be the mythical killer, but the victim too.  She is a victim as she has been permanently been suspended in arrested development.

Victim-hood and its subsequent tragedies are Alfredson's primary reflection.  In the final act he bestows a glorious redemption upon his protagonists.  One that satisfies the true horror fans and the romantics.