“IT’S THIS JUXTAPOSITION BETWEEN THE DOMESTIC AND THE DIABOLICAL THAT GIVES THE F I L M I T S P O W E R .”
By forcing his characters to face the absurdity, the impossibility, of what they see in front of them, Alfredson deftly crosses a fourth wall. It’s as if, by uttering the word ‘vampire’ out loud, some taboo is shattered, and all the barriers between the real and the unreal, the possible and the impossible break down completely. Let The Right One In takes us beyond the comfort zone of horror, and perhaps that’s why it isn’t so much scary as disconcerting. The fear of the unknown, the fear of the unseen, the fear of evil – all have been subtly undermined. In fact, the film’s ‘scariest’ scene sees Håkan washing a bucket, tubing and funnel in his kitchen. There’s something about his quiet determination that’s far more disturbing than seeing the same tools employed after he’s strung a young boy to a tree and cut his throat. It’s this juxtaposition between the domestic and the diabolical that gives the film its power. The classroom, the home, the local pool: these are the tawdry, tedious spaces of normal life. That the word ‘vampire’ should shatter their illusive sanctuary is like a physical violation. And if, on occasion, the scenes of violence that occur here seem almost comically inappropriate to the audience’s eyes, we’re simply sharing the reaction of the film’s characters, struggling to accept what they’re seeing.
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