Let the Right One Out

In the series A Film in Focus, writers talk about a film that has in some way made a strong impression on them. This time we hear from Gabrielle de Bourg on the film Let the Right One In (Låt den rätte komma in).

Of all the monsters, vampires are the most fascinating, and the most varied. They have portrayed everything from monstruous ghosts to teenage crushes. To me though, the most exciting thing is the queer undertone that exists among vampires. Recurring themes are the chosen family, alienation, and of course the dangerous blood. And it’s often in vampire films in particular that we see LGBTQ representation, when it comes to the horror and monster genre.

One of the films that portrays this best is Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson, 2008), which is fifteen years old in 2023. The film is about 12-year-old Oskar, growing up in the Stockholm suburb of Blackeberg. He gets bullied on a daily basis, has a cold relationship with his mum and a dad who drinks. One day he meets Eli, the girl next door. They develop feelings for each other, even though Eli tries to warn Oskar…because she’s actually a vampire.

The film was a crossover hit that won acclaim among the general public, as well as among horror fans and critics (winning Guldbagge Awards for Best Cinematography, Best Screenplay and Best Director). It was also an international success and even remade in America as Let Me In (Matt Reeves, 2010).

Let the Right One In is a film that really makes the most of the theme of alienation, which features in many of the best monster stories. Ever since Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818) we have had stories about showing sympathy for monstrous beings, and the trope has grown increasingly popular as time goes by. Consequently, many of these stories have gone on to become popular among groups who experience or have experienced alienation – something I personally also happen to identify with.

Alienation is undoubtedly the most prevalent theme in Let the Right One In, and it can in fact be divided into two kinds. There is partly the alienation that forces Eli to avoid sunlight. He moves around to avoid discovery, and therefore has no choice but to be separate, isolated. The trope also recurs as a more realistic kind of alienation, whereby someone is outside of society and/or the group; partly with Oskar who gets bullied, and partly among many of the film’s other characters, such as the alcoholics. What makes the film so moving is the way it depicts people who find each other and open up in their mutual alienation – that feeling of finding someone else who is ‘like you’.

Having said that, the queer theme is perhaps the most interesting trope in the movie. We find out that Eli is not a girl (but actually a boy who has been genitally mutilated). Eli reveals this in a scene in which Oskar says he’s in love with Eli and wants to be her boyfriend. To which Eli responds, “Oskar, I’m not a girl.” Oskar doesn’t care, and carries on asking whether they’re together.

This is a scene that brings tears to my eyes, for the very fact that Oskar is so indifferent to Eli’s gender identity: he loves Eli, so why would he love her any less just because of that? The reason this prompts such a strong reaction in me is because it can be hard to talk about trans status, especially with someone you find attractive. Also, unfortunately with revelation comes the risk of threats, and trans people have been murdered for apparently ‘betraying’ someone. So for me as a binary trans person, it’s incredibly powerful to see someone simply saying ‘so what?’ to gender identity.

Representation in film is becoming an increasingly topical subject. It paves the way for new storytellers and enables people who feel they don’t exist to identify with others. That feeling of existing and being able to see something in a film that you have experienced is truly magical. The best way to describe it is as a feeling of existence affirmation. In a world where mega authors question the existence of trans people and politicians restrict trans people’s rights, the issue of trans representation could not be more relevant. But who knew that Let the Right One In would be one of the films with which I identify the most?

It really is a film where I see a lot of myself. We have the queer represented by Eli, whose dark hair and pale skin is a kind of parallel to myself who grew up as some kind of alternative wannabe vampire. At the same time, I also see a lot of my younger self in Oskar. I too was bullied for much of my time at school; just like Oskar, I was never tough or particularly ‘laddish’ (which obviously there was good reason for). I would have loved to have an Eli in my life, someone who told me it was okay to be different.

There’s also another reason I can relate: the film is set in Blackeberg and the nearby districts of Vällingby and Råcksta, where I live myself. Even though much of the film, such as the courtyard at Oskar and Eli’s block of flats, was shot in Luleå in northern Sweden, several scenes were also shot in my own neighbourhood. The strongest recognition for me is the tunnel where alcoholic Jocke is murdered, which I pass all the time. And when I do, I get this nice, warm feeling, as it always reminds me of the film, and I can’t help looking around to see if Eli is there ready to pounce.

That geographical recognition took on even deeper meaning one time at the genre film festival Monsters of Film in Stockholm. I was leading a guided tour visiting locations from the film and book, which finished up with a screening of the film in the Blackeberg high school assembly hall. We even received video greetings from both John [Ajvide Lindqvist, writer] and Tomas [Alfredson, director], who told us funny anecdotes and talked about the locations and what the film has meant to them.

And for everyone who was there, it was obvious that it’s not only a film that has meant a lot to me, but also to many others.

(published in Swedish in May 2023, and in English in November 2023)