Pop culture seems to have taken on a new philosophy toward vampirism. ""Twilight"" takes vampires and turns them into the glittering female fantasy that is Edward Cullen, the emotionally abusive stalker of every girl's dreams. ""True Blood"" caters to the other gender with copious shots of Anna Paquin naked and angry vampire hate sex. These projects continue the legacy of Ann Rice novels, which gave goth kids a special little fantasy world and provided Hot Topic with a reason to exist.
All of these works depict vampires as the epitome of cool—they live forever, they're invincible and they get to spend all of eternity looking like Alexander Skarsgård. That's where the 2008 Swedish film ""Let the Right One In"" differentiated itself to such acclaim. It was a dark, uncompromising tale portraying vampires as not only physical bloodsuckers but emotional ones as well. So when ""Cloverfield"" director Matt Reeves began production on an American remake with ""Let Me In,"" fans of the original were naturally concerned that he would alter the story to cater to the Stephanie Meyer crowd.
As it turns out, their concerns were unfounded. Reeves maintained every bit of gloom and gore from ""Let the Right One In,"" and if anything was too loyal to his source material, imbuing ""Let Me In"" with the original's weaknesses as well as its strengths while adding some slight, yet notable changes.
The plot in particular is virtually identical. Now set in the snowy mountains of 1982 New Mexico instead of Sweden, the main focus lies on Owen (Kodi Smit-McPhee), a bullied young boy from a broken family and his burgeoning relationship with the ghostly Abby (Chloe Moretz), who has just moved in next door with her supposed father (Richard Jenkins). Spoiler, Abby is actually a vampire.
As the two grow closer, Abby's victims begin to pile up and Owen eventually catches on. It is here where Reeves manages to subtlely craft ""Let Me In"" into his own project. Whereas ""Let the Right One In"" portrays its central character as a troubled yet innocent kid, here Owen catches on to Abby's deeper secrets more readily. He gets a definite idea of the true relationship between Abby and her ""father,"" and when he finally sees Abby do her dirty work, the victim is much more of an innocent. With just a few minor tweaks, Reeves is able to make the central moral dilemma of his main character much more complex.
But even better are the nuances of Moretz's performance. Having already played an uber-violent killing machine earlier this year in ""Kickass,"" Moretz is hardly new to onscreen violence. But while her predecessor Lina Leandersson imbued the same character with an equally heartbreaking numbness, Moretz displays a much more overt level of sadness. She is a predator who abhors predation, yet knows it is her only way to survive. She hates killing and manipulating, but she has no other options.
At the same time, some of Reeves' little changes simply don't work, most notably his use of CGI to depict more of Abby's vampire abilities. ""Let the Right One In"" left most of these actions off-screen or in the shadows, but ""Let Me In"" shows Abby scampering up trees and hospital walls, removing the eeriness of her character. In addition, Reeves still fails where ""Let the Right One In"" did, as both movies leave many of Abby's motivations and actions frustratingly unexplained.
But even as a remake, ""Let Me In"" feels refreshing, if only because the rest of what's out there is so vapid. As far as vampire movies go, cineplexes could do a lot worse—and likely will next May when ""The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn"" comes out. Somewhere, Nosferatu is turning in his coffin.
