Back
in 2008, Sweden’s Tomas Alfredson directed one of the most atmospheric,
creepy, intelligent horror films in recent memory. Based on a novel by
John Ajvide Lindqvist, Let the Right One In was an immediate critical
hit. As has become all too predictable whenever there’s a
successful foreign horror film, some Hollywood studio decided to remake
it.
So it goes with Let Me In, directed not by Alfredson, but by Matt
Reeves, who helmed one of my all-time least favourite films,
Cloverfield
in the same year that Let the Right One ruled my annual
Glorious Things Best Of list. However, I was determined not to let
my prior unhappy experience with Mr. Reeves’s work colour my judgment.
I left my sick bag at home and watched the hope that this remake with
its proven material would go over much better than my last interaction
with Mr. Reeves’ oeuvre. The result is an underwhelming meh.
Using a snowbound 1983 New Mexico as a proxy for Sweden’s frosty climes,
Reeves frames his film practically shot for shot after Alfredson’s
original. We view replicas of the same vast stretches of snowy forests
under gunmetal grey skies, nondescript apartment complexes with sub-Ikea
furniture inside and the single jungle gym in the middle of the
courtyard, which is where we find Owen. He is an undersized runt for
whom puberty is yet a faraway notion. Owen has no friends to speak of
and isn’t much noticed by his divorcing parents. The prospect of a new
neighbour around his own age holds tentative promise. He only briefly
notes that the underdressed girl’s bare feet don’t seem to turn blue
from the deep snow covering the ground, nor does the fact that he never
seems to see her in school or anywhere else during the day really
register. Neither does it occur to him that since the young lady and
her father moved in next door, strange things have been happening all
over town. The advent of this new friend and first crush blocks out the
thought of everything else except perhaps the bullies who torment Owen
every day at school, but with Abby’s encouragement Owen finds the nerve
to employ a little payback of his own.
There doesn’t seem to be a point to remaking what was already an
excellent film. Here Let Me In doesn’t suffer as much from being bad,
as it brings nothing new to the table. It’s such a note for note
rendition that not even its studio is referring to it under that pompous
“reimagining” label. Perhaps the thought is that the majority of
moviegoers might have missed Let the Right One In, having been a foreign
import with the subtitles that America dreads. If so, this release
which is basically a carbon copy of its superior continental sire is
pretty cynical and doesn’t say much for the filmmakers behind it.
If
anything, I’m surprised by the lack of polish this Hollywood rendering is
guilty of. What stands out are the exceedingly cheesy special effects
where Abby’s night hungers come into play. She’s wearing luminescent
sclera that might have been scary in 1983 and looks like someone dumped
her face in oatmeal. Her attacks, meant to resemble the Tasmanian
Devil, I suppose, are awful; jumpy and poorly animated to the point of
taking us out of the story to marvel at how goofy it looks. This is
surprising when one considers the visual effects muscle behind the
unfortunate Cloverfield.
The other cynical proposition is the exclusion
of the one of the original film’s most memorable moments; a scene which
clarifies the little vamp’s response to her friend’s request to make her
his girlfriend. That quick shot was an all-in-one exposition of the
vampire’s history as well as evidence of the love between the two
friends knowing no bounds. In Let Me In, we hear the question and
receive only a vague spoken answer that never means anything and it
feels like an easy cop-out. What’s worse is away from any comparison to
the original, Let Me In is never actually scary or even mildly
disturbing. The frights are long telegraphed and seriously compromised
due to the aforementioned weak special effects and there’s no sense of
impending danger to Abby’s predicament. It all just rolls along till
the end, without making a ripple.
On the plus side, we have the wonderful Chloë Grace Moretz, who
continues the streak of great performances she began in
(500) Days of Summer
and most recently topped earlier this year with a bravura turn at
Hit-Girl in Kick-Ass. As Abby,
a convincingly androgynous Moretz gets the heart of the character, a
creature older than even she knows, too afraid to get close to another
soul for her attachments end up victimizing the ones she loves. She
matches Owen’s need for a friend perfectly and her shift from child of
the same age and fancies as young Owen to imparting to him the wisdom
she’s acquired over centuries is believable. Elias Koteas is almost
unrecognisable in Inspector Willoughby walrus mustache and union-issue
frames as the officer trying to find this new serial killer come to
town. He’s not given much to do except knock on doors, but it’s good to
see Koteas, star of 1995’s far more interesting creepfest The Prophecy
in anything.
Director Reeves does skillfully capture the early-1980’s
miscellanea nicely; Owen’s huge padded bubble down jacket, the film’s
Culture Club-heavy soundtrack and the two kids initial bond over Rubik’s
cube and the Now and Later commercial jingle. Kodi Smit-McPhee plays
our wimpy kid, Owen, and his goldfish-wide eyes and permanently gaping
lips evince the state of constant bewilderment and fright that the
pre-teen years signify to many. Like Koteas, there really isn’t much
for Smit-McPhee to do despite having the featured role, but he is very
sweet in moments like Abby’s visit to his flat, turning up some Greg
Khin to set the mood, bopping his head like a rhythm-deprived pigeon.
Richard Jenkins makes a notable turn as Abby’s Renfield, a tired old man
with no discernable super powers who serves the little vamp faithfully,
committing horrible and heinous crimes to keep her safe. Moretz and
Jenkins’ skillful performances can’t lift the film from being what it
is; a pale and pointless imitation of a superior movie.
Miles better than his previous creation, Cloverfield, director Reeves
shows he can actually hold a camera steady long enough to create some
interesting moods and scenarios. Too bad someone did it first and
far better than in Let Me In.
~ The Lady Miz Diva
Oct. 1st, 2010
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