Put The Right One On

It's a widely held belief amongst many moviegoers and critics alike that if you are going to remake a movie, it's usually best to remake a bad one. Right off the bat there are a couple of good reasons why this might often hold true. Principally it seems logical that as the film-maker, your remake is far less likely to suffer from critical comparison or emotive negative reactions from a loyal existing fan-base if you make-over a half forgotten mediocre movie than a beloved classic. However, from a more objective position, the likely advantage of remaking a bad (or at least not very good) movie is that it probably leaves a lot more creative elbow room for re-interpretation. If the script, or the performances, or the staging or pacing of the original left a lot to be desired then it seems reasonable to assume that the makers of the new version are more likely to throw out a larger amount of what came before, and start again with just the bare bones of the concept or story. Rather than simply reshooting the same movie to the same, usually diminished effect, this freedom then brings a corresponding increase in the chances of actually improving on what came before, and if you are not aiming to do at least that, then why are you bothering at all?

David Cronenbergs' '80s version of The Fly for example, started life when Cronenberg watched the 1950s original, and left the theatre fuming about technical issues regarding mass loss and gain as a guys' head ends up on a fly, at fly size, while the flies' ends up on a man, with a corresponding increase in volume of matter contained therein. When he finally got his chance to remake it therefore, he and his co-writer took a fresh look at the original short story concept, and along with a modicum of improvement in the science (still somewhat outrageous, but slightly more rationalised from an internal logic point of view), the resulting movie comprehensively trounced the original in every department. From the grotesquely inventive special effects, through a beautiful and tender central relationship, one the finest ever to grace the horror genre, to Jeff Goldblums' career best performance of a brilliant man physically and mentally disintegrating.

Then a little more recently we had Ocean's Eleven, which in comparison to the above example sticks more closely to its forbears' formula. In this case an all-star comedy crime caper which was a fun, but rather lazy and unfocused vehicle for its Rat-Pack stars. Through fine, pacey direction, tight-as-a-barrel scripting, and a clutch of well oiled performances, Soderbergs' superficially similar retread soundly beats it for cunning, wit, thrills and all-round cool.

So if the above wisdom is so commonly accepted, it begs the question of why we so often get subjected to inferior remakes of top-rank classics. Was anyone really asking for re-imaginings (a hateful phrase that tries vainly to smear some creative justification onto this vile process) of Planet of the Apes, The Day the Earth Stood Still, The Wicker Man, The Ladykillers (proving that even the masterful Coen Brothers could not overturn this rule) or Psycho?

The answer of course is money. Old films have a limited scope for reaping further financial rewards for the studios that own them. There is but an ongoing trickle of budget DVD sales and some small royalties from TV showings which cannot attract high fees as the smaller audiences for each successive showing result in ever-diminishing advertising revenues etc. But there is a ready market of millions of people who wouldn't dream of sitting down on a Sunday afternoon to watch The African Queen on the telly, but who would pay top dollar at the box office if they heard of a new movie with the same name starring Angelina Jolie (yeah, I'd probably watch it too!).

The above list of recent offenders is of course evidence enough to all but the most cinematically-challenged observer that remakes of great films are generally a waste of time, money and creative talent that could have been so much better employed on something original. None of this is exactly news and frankly most of the time I couldn't care less about them. I, like most people who might give a damn, have seen those marvellous classics, I know them to be great, and should I be unfortunate enough to encounter one of these misbegotten cash-cows, it won't make a jot of difference to my love of the originals.

There is however, an evil, and insidious second thread to the remake scam and that is the remaking of recent foreign language films (foreign to us Western, English speaking audiences I mean of course). The motivation here is similar, but the effect, I believe, is far more damaging.

A high quality foreign-language film gets a bit of attention, maybe wins a couple of awards somewhere and earns itself some admirers. Now, if this were an English language film, with luck, a major distributor would pick it up, put a ton of money behind promoting it and make it the big hit it deserves to be. But it isn't, it's got, "GASP!", subtitles on it, and sadly there is (or is assumed to be) a huge proportion of the English speaking audience, particularly in America, where most of the big money is to be made, who just would not dream of seeing a subtitled movie, no matter how brilliant it may reputedly be. As English first-language speaking countries, we largely bring this on ourselves. We are notoriously lazy with regards to other cultures, having had the luxury of being brought up with one of the worlds' premiere international languages as our mother tongue. People in many other countries are used to seeing films, hearing music, and experiencing culture from around the world in multiple languages, such that seeing subtitles and dealing with tongues that they may not be so fluent in is part of daily life and not given a second thought. But not so here, and crucially not in Hollywood.

So what happens to our theoretical gem of a foreign movie? It may get a good critical response, perhaps does well in its own country, and is seen by a small, but fervently enthusiastic band of admirers around the globe. Now it is in the nature of cinematic enthusiasts (i.e. nerds like me), that when they discover a great film, but particularly one that hasn't been seen yet by every man and his dog, that they will recommend it to their mates, or take people to see it, because they want to share the experience of what they have found. In doing so, over time the films' reputation will spread, the screenings and the sales will grow, and it may, with luck, gain at least a share of the success that it richly deserves.

Except that is doesn't. What increasingly happens now is that Hollywood spots a good idea, just in the "wrong" language, and says "We'll have that!". And so, before the original film has even left the cinemas, a remake is in the can, made with ten-times the budget, pushed out there with a hundred times the promotional muscle and it's on the side of every bus before you can say "God damn you all to Hell!"

Is this so much worse than bad remakes of old classics? After all, in both cases the original version still exists for all to see if they so choose. Well, yes, in my opinion it is, for several reasons but the principle one is this: There is a magic in seeing a great movie for the first time (as there is of course with reading a great book or hearing a beautiful song), and that can never be experienced in the same way again. If you have already watched a remake of a movie before seeing, or indeed even being aware of, the original; you will never get to experience that movie the way it was meant to be experienced. You will know where the story is headed, you will be aware ahead of time of the fate of characters that you might have cared greatly about, or twists that change the meaning of everything you thought you understood. You will compare and contrast scenes, and dialogue, and performances, sometimes without even being aware that you have been removed from the first-hand experience of the tale and instead that you are now sitting outside of the world on-screen.  You are analysing the movie, rather than being immersed in it. The remake has robbed you of that gift, and you can never have it back.

So I come to Let Me In. It comes out here in the UK in just a few weeks. It looks pretty good, the trailers and posters look moody and atmospheric. It's directed by Matt Reeves, who made Cloverfield which I thoroughly enjoyed, and it stars that little cool-as-fuck girl from Kick-Ass. Sounds good? Let's go.

Except... have you seen Let The Right One In (or I should say "Låt den rätte komma in", and therein lies the problem)? Yes? Good on you. We can discuss the nerdy details later on. No? Well think carefully about where you spend your next 8 quid, because for me, Let The Right One In, which came out barely a year ago over here, is a true cinematic masterpiece. One of the most moving, melancholic, atmospheric and original films I have seen in a very long time. I could talk for hours about the stunning cinematography, the remarkable and captivating performances by the two child leads, the heart-breaking score and the sheer exhilaration of experiencing such an original take on an apparently familiar genre. But I won't, because you can experience it all for yourself, for the first time, and then get back to me and we'll talk.

In spite of having been a sizable hit for a foreign-language film, I regularly find myself talking to friends who have yet to hear of this movie, and of course I do my best to turn them on to it when I do. There are doubtless millions of people around the world who haven't experienced the dark enchantments of Let The Right One In but would in time do so. But in a few months time many of them will have seen the no doubt more commercially successful Let Me In, and the chance to have the same experience that I did when seeing it for the first time will be lost.

I have yet to see The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, by co-incidence another Swedish movie out in the last year and with excellent notices, and I thoroughly intend to do so at some point. However I have just recently learned that a remake is on the way (is it something against Sweden? Did the head of Sony Pictures get knocked down by a Volvo?). On paper the remake could not look more impressive. Directed by the formidable David Fincher who helmed Seven, Fight Club and Zodiac. Scripted by the same screen-writer as Schindler's List. I should be excited about this; it has every chance of being excellent... and yet, and yet... All I can feel is sadness and anger at the shameful pilfering of another apparently excellent work the minute it has gained a glimpse of recognition as such.

I will be making damn sure I see the original version of that movie before I go near the remake, if I do at all, and I urge you to do the same. However, before that, I implore you, see Let The Right One In. See it because it deserves to be a huge hit. Making a commercially successful movie in Sweden, with a small film industry and a modest ten million native speakers is a tough challenge at best, and the makers of this stunning work of art deserve all the success and recognition that they can get. See it because, by making original foreign language films more successful and snubbing American remakes a little more, we will be sending a message to those with the money to get films made and distributed that we, the audience, value originality, variety and creativity and will spend our money where we find it; and what we don't need, and crucially won't pay good money for, is to be spoon fed with lazy retreads and moribund imagination. This could pay us back dividends in the future by resulting in a greater choice of quality cinema, made by those who have the best creative minds, rather than simply by those with the most commercial nous. But most of all see it now! See it before the remake gets you and steals the magic, forever.