Let Me In (MA). Director: Matt Reeves. Starring: Kodi Smit-McPhee, Chloe Moretz, Richard Jenkins, Dylan Kening. Running time: 115 minutes.
This is the kind of stylish, intelligent film that ought to give 'horror' a good name. Let Me In is based upon the novel and screenplay Let the Right One In, written by Swedish author John Ajvide Lindqvist, here re-envisioned by American filmmaker Matt Reeves.
It is a vampire film, but only occasionally gruesome. More often, it utilises atmosphere and the power of suggestion to create unease — as the best horror films do. Most importantly, the horrific elements are built into the framework of a powerful drama; this is a coming-of-age story, thematically muscular and with well-rounded characters embodied by strong performances.
Set in a working class suburb of Los Alamos, New Mexico, the story centres on Owen (Smit-McPhee), the child of bitterly divorced parents. Friendless, awkward, and a perennial victim of a particularly sadistic school bully named Kenny (Kening), Owen seems to have found his soulmate when an enigmatic young girl, Abby (Moretz), moves into the flat next door. Sensing a fellow misfit, Owen is drawn to her.
Let Me In is at its heart a chaste love story between these two pre-adolescents, portrayed with depth and warmth by the talented young actors. Their romance is, in all likelihood, doomed, due to the fact that Abby is secretly a vampire; the man (Jenkins) with whom she lives is not her father, but a companion-cum-servant who commits murders in order to supply her with blood for sustenance.
In this context, Reeves' recast title takes on a double meaning, evoking both the 'rule' that vampires must be invited before entering someone else's dwelling, and the need for trust in friendships and romantic relationships. For Owen, growing up and growing close to Abby requires learning the truth about her, and discerning how best to assimilate his knowledge of her dark inclinations.
Let Me In is also a cautionary tale about children's need for strong adult role models. This is something Owen lacks. His single, working mother often leaves him to his own devices, and has embraced a religious ritualism in which he finds no solace. His father, meanwhile, is absent. At one stage, Owen calls him in a state of despair, with desperate questions — regarding the existence of evil, no less — but his father, preoccupied with hurt and bitterness towards his ex-wife, barely hears his