“I must go and live, or stay and die.”
This message, left by a vampire for her new companion, is scrawled in children’s handwriting but its words hold the pained weight of a lonesome immortal life. The words serve as more than an ultimatum for the young human boy, providing the philosophical cornerstone of 2008’s Swedish indie darling, Let the Right One In. The dilemma described within is as clear as it is universal. Is it best to live outside society as your true self or drown under the pressures of its rigid demands? Violence awaits at either end of this forked road but true freedom will be awarded to only those who choose correctly.
The Evolution of the Vampire Myth in Culture
The vampire myth has enjoyed many phases of life since its inception. The notion of inhuman creatures who feed on the living, a recurring motif with roots as far back as ancient Mesopotamia, is often thought to belong to a subgenre of cautionary myths attempting to warn members of society from feeding on their kin in times of strife. Religious zeal and fear of damnation in the afterlife fueled village paranoia in Eastern Europe, evolving the idea of these succubus-like creatures into the superhuman masters of the night we now recognize as the modern-day vampire.
In film and literature, the depiction of the vampire has been no more consistent. We have seen vampires assume forms both demonic and debonair, often within the same film. Their status has slowly shifted from eternally cursed to immortally blessed. Often, the contemporary vampire now finds themselves armed with a slew of supernatural powers, tireless charm, and a longing for the finer things in life that rivals their thirst for blood.
A Unique Take on Vampire Lore
Let the Right One In has little interest in any of this noise. Instead, this theatrical adaptation of a novel by the same name makes daring use of the vampiric metaphor to explore themes of identity, otherness, and ostracization. The resulting product cements the film standing both a step above and away from other works within the horror subgenre. The plot follows the growing friendship between a bullied 12-year-old (Oskar) and a two hundred year old vampire (Eli) who was turned as a child. Eli’s prepubescent body greatly complicates her undead existence, severely hindering her ability to hunt and independently operate within the human world. As her current familiar servant, Hakan falters in his ability to provide for her, she must decide whether or not to initiate her troubled neighbor into a cold, lonely existence from which he will not be able to return.
Metaphorical Depth in a Chilling Stockholm Setting
Due to the screenplay being written by John Ajvide Lindqvist, who also authored the novel from which the movie was developed, this horror film finds its metaphorical veins juiced to a level usually reserved for literature. The Stockholm suburb serves as a backdrop plagued by a dark and indifferent cold. This wilderness permeates the town and the plot, always carrying a discovery of violent acts within it. This use of setting as a metaphor is on clear display with Hakan’s first attempt to provide his surrogate child with a meal. After chloroforming his victim as dusk turns to night, he pulls the teenager into the forest before stringing him up under the cover of the woodline. It is here, amidst the callous chill of the wilderness that he casually slits the young man’s throat for his codependent companion. It is clear this is where he is most comfortable conducting his chosen existence- on the outskirts of society. And it is no surprise he is just as quick to abandon the bucket of procured blood when he is happened upon by townspeople on their evening walk.
Hakan’s Role: A Warning of a Tragic Fate
While the novel explores Hakan’s obsession with his vampire ward in more lurid detail, the film cleverly adapts his character into a living implication of the tragic fate that may lay ahead for Oskar if he chooses to follow Eli into the wilderness. A scene set in a diner shows Hakan taking great effort to avoid contact with the symposium of drunks who wonder aloud whether there is any place for killing (or laws) in society. Hakan, having left such questions about ethics long behind, knows that he cannot truly convene with his neighbors. He can walk amongst them and dine near them but, ultimately, he would rather disfigure himself than abide by their laws and norms.
Throughout the film, the dialogue makes frequent references to violence lying in wait. Police officers speak in great detail to school children about gruesome crimes in the area but it’s Oskar who is made to feel as though he is unusually morbid for having an interest in crime. The same classroom will listen as their teacher reads to them a passage from “The Hobbit ” about longing for adventure and rejecting normalcy before imploring them to ask their parent’s permission to go on a simple school trip. Oskar’s bullying goes ignored by those charged with protecting him, as he is of the age in which he must begin to deal with these matters on his own. Oskar practices violent gestures with a knife in the reflection of his window, imagining murdering his school tormentor with an increasingly sadistic demeanor. It begins to dawn on him that to remain in society as an “other” may hold the same potential for violence as a life of crime.
Eli: A Complex Symbol of Otherness
Eli serves as the most complicated figure amongst the cast. She is a nexus of identities traditionally spurned by the world. As a vampire, she is a feared predator doomed to walk the night in a 12 year-old’s body. As a trans-female, Eli is as cautious about revealing her gender identity to potential confidantes as she is with her vampiric nature. Shortly before ending Hakan’s life out of mercy, she reminds him that he must invite her in to do so. She has learned to operate outside the realm of society and often tracks the cold snow indoors with her when walking indoors. She is forced outside of society by the very status that grants her power in that wilderness.
As Eli seduces Oskar to invite her into his life, she paints the picture of a world free of ethical constraints, constructing a fantasy of power within the film for all those who identify as “the other.” In this way, Let the Right One In depicts a third option beyond conformity or ostracization: escape from society altogether. This fantastical decision may indeed be no less violent than the choice to stay and fight for your individuality.
Yet, at the very least, it comes with companionship as deep as its excesses.