These days it seems like wherever you go, there are vampires. Television, movies and the bestseller list are swarmed with the neck-biting, bat-familiar creatures of the night. The leading edge of the vamp fad is, of course, Stephanie Meyer’s cadre of Twilight sparklers. It’s easy to understand the appeal of vampires – dark and strong, a heady shot of escapism in troubled times. Who wouldn’t want to be immortal, immensely strong and yet still somehow be emo and brooding? I’ll readily admit that I don’t understand the Twilight craze – Meyers has taken some liberties with the vampire mythos that rob it of its teeth, so to speak. In her young adult series, being a vampire is a curse, not a blessing. They are powerful, sure, but also less vulnerable – Meyer’s vampires simply glisten in sunlight like that one chick from Goldfinger. Let the Right One In, a Swedish vampire film based on a 2004 novel of the same name by John Lindqvist, is nearly nothing like Twilight. Yes, there are vampires. Yes, it is a love story. That’s where the similarities end. Where the vampires of Twilight are chiseled, statuesque baseball-playing teenagers, Let the Right One In features Eli, a rather unusual-looking 12-year-old sanguinarian who lives alone with her elderly caretaker, Håkan. As the caretaker repeatedly fails to finds victims for his ward, she strikes up an unlikely friendship with Oskar, a quiet, bullied boy who has a bit of a dark side himself. For the most part, Let the Right One In is a quiet movie about a quiet friendship. In one particularly endearing scene, Oskar lends his Rubik’s Cube to Eli only to find it completed the next day. The two learn Morse code to tap messages to each other through their shared wall. The near silence of most of the film is contrasted by scenes of intense and graphic violence, to great effect. The film’s tone and volume shift abruptly as Håkan fails to collect enough blood for Eli and she must make do on her own. Chaos ensues in the sleepy, snow-muted suburb as people pour acid on their faces, are attacked by cats and even burst into flame. This is emblematic of director Tomas Alfredson’s skillful balancing of the light and dark aspects of the vampire ethos presented in the novel. It’s a convincing story of growing up (and first love) as Eli encourages Oskar to stand up to the bullies at his school, leading to a series of encounters escalating to a scene of brutal violence that drastically contrasts with the gentle snow and innocent Morse code which suffuse the rest of the film. Near the end, the movie threatens to veer off into typical horror film chaos but Alfredson and Lindqvist never give into the urge to titillate the viewer with excess death and destruction. Rather, they choose to end this fine film on notes as soft as a first love or a first snowfall.
Let the Right One In also highlights one aspect of the vampire mythos common to nearly all treatments: they are seductive. Not only is Oskar drawn in by the odd binary of innocence and violence collapsed into the petite Eli, but even Håkan consents to sacrifice himself when he fails to bring her the blood she needs to survive. It is this seductiveness that ultimately makes vampires so appealing, and it is this seductiveness that has brought them once again to our collective pop-consciousness. Let the Right One In is an excellent example of the vampire genre done justice – haunting, at times shocking, and surprisingly tender. For an example of a movie that gets absolutely everything about the vampire genre done horribly, horribly wrong, might I suggest American Vampire, a 2001 MTV vehicle starring Carmen Electra and Adam West. On second thought, I don’t suggest it. Ever.
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