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You're not a kid, you're a monster, monster, monster
I don't think I can call Låt den rätte komma in—Let the Right One In—the most beautiful film I've seen in theaters this year, because The Fall so amazed me, but it's right up there. So many directors could have taken its core handful of elements and gone for sheer splatter, suspense, even black comedy; instead it's a character piece, like the color of winter twilight, at once remote and tender, not obvious, not comfortable. Am I making it sound like a piece of sculpture, serene and chilly? Some of what I loved about the film is that it's messy: you're dying to be alive when you're twelve years old. Children are monsters. Only some of them drink blood. Only adults are sentimental about it. Let the old dreams die. I don't want to see it remade. I do want to read the book. I want to see what this writer and director do next. And for God's sake, no more sparkling.
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So very much. And then I gave myself whiplash by watching Spirited Away (2001) with another friend about six hours later. I loved it also, of course, especially the no-faced spirit, but the two movies are not exactly on the same tonal wavelength . . .
That's why no one should ever be forced to stay IN that state, let alone for 250 years (or so) at a time...
Is that how old Eli is? I guessed at the least a hundred and fifty, and probably more, but of course it's never clarified.
I read the book after seeing the film, and was very interested by the ways in which the two deviate
Would you recommend the book? I am inclined to read it simply because I loved the film—a tactic which just worked spectacularly with A Room with a View—but I assume there are substantial differences. The film feels more like a short story or a novella.
very specific details, a terrible fairytale with Gilles de Rais overtones, though possibly dating to the 1700s rather than the 1430s
I can see that.
I like lacunae generally, so the lack of explicit explanations works really well for me
Yes. I loved how much the film did not explain itself; either Oskar will figure it out, or the audience will, or it doesn't matter.