I would argue that Matt Reeves‘ Let Me In, which I’ve just come out of, is at least as good as Tomas Alfredson‘s Let The Right One In, which Reeves’ film is a remake of. I’m guessing that this view will be regarded as heresy in some quarters, particularly since there’s no denying that much of Let Me In feels like a scene-for-scene, and in some portions a shot-for-shot “copy” rather than a remake.

But it’s very carefully copied with a meticulous, unhurried, highly absorbing style, and there is a Reeves signature of sorts here and there.

Hollywood remakes of European-made hits tend to not be as good — they needlessly gloss them up or water them down or otherwise miss the basic vitality. Let Me In doesn’t do this, in my view. It doesn’t diminish — it respects and pays tribute to the original by keeping what worked — adhering as closely as possible for the most part — and enhancing here and there.

The truth? I liked it better than the original, in part because I’m a much bigger fan of Chloe Moretz‘s Abby (i.e., the little-girl vampire) than the young Swedish actress in Alfredson’s film. Moretz can do no wrong in my book. “Hit Girl” and now this — she’s really got it.

Clint Eastwood’s Hereafter is starting momentarily so that’s all she wrote for now.

There apparently can be no universal standard of happiness (or contentment even) regarding Blurays of Carol Reed‘s The Third Man. First there was the infamous Criterion grainstorm Bluray edition that gave me (and perhaps others) so much anguish and frustration, and now there’s another source of agony — the Studio Canal Third Man Bluray (out 9.21). And yet it must be said that Nate Boss‘s High-Def Digest review is hilarious.

Boss is a colorful impassioned writer. I like him because he hates like I do.

“Let me just say I wouldn’t have minded a brown tint, caused by a layer of barbeque sauce smeared across the picture, compared to the sometimes blurry, borderline sterile and inhuman veneer found here,” he notes halfway into the review. “Early reports and screenshots showed this release having a significant amount of grain removed from the picture, and as much as I hate to give any credit to screenshots, they were right.

“Jackets and their intricate stitching appear smeared, while the stitching on Major Calloway’s shoulders is illegible, even in a closeup of his arm. The sewers never looked cleaner, and that’s just dirty. There is no disputing how different this release looks from the Criterion edition, but these changes, they’re not for the better. Another blow to the StudioCanal Collection name. A big, big blow. If there weren’t a previous release, this wouldn’t have been as big a deal, but since we know the potential, it’s downright unforgivable.

“There’s quite a smattering of dirt, debris, and lines all over this release, significantly more than the previous version, with some amazingly large or heinous onslaughts leaving one to wonder how much it would have cost to license the Criterion supervised restoration. Brightness levels can still shift, as they did before, but shadow details take a humongous drop. Where black on black in the darkest shadows used to be quite easy to discern, now it’s just one big mess. The picture retains some nice depth, but detail levels take a hit. Edges appear pretty clean, free from halos of any kind. Aliasing pops up from time to time in the jackets of the actors, in varying degrees (the tighter the pattern, the more problematic it can be).”

I think even I, one of the most grain-averse people on the planet, might prefer the Criterion Bluray edition to the Studio Canal version. Honestly? I watched it again last month and even though the grain in some of the scenes makes me sick, it at least doesn;t have the kinds of problems that afflict the Studio Canal version, according to Boss.

“The most fascinating aspect” of Robert Redford‘s The Conspirator (which won’t have its TIFF press screening until Sunday) “is the historical resonance of the story it tells,” writes L.A. Times columnist Patrick Goldstein. “After Abraham Lincoln was shot and killed, America was traumatized, much as it was after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. And as the film makes clear, the 1865 War Department, run by Secretary of War Edwin Stanton (Kevin Kline), is determined to quench the country’s thirst for vengeance, even if that means bending the law and sending a seemingly innocent woman to the gallows.

Hotel workers picketing in front of Toronto’s Hyatt on King Street — Friday, 9.10, 5:40 pm.

The mere sight of this put a dent in my day. To think that there are guys who actually go out and buy these things and put them on before going out to the local coffee shop and say to themselves, “Yeah…looks good. Enhances my image.”

I hate those usherettes who stand around in theatres with their little flashlights. If you get up and move for any reason they turn them on…beam. “Please turn it off,” I always say to them. “Thank you but I don’t need your assistance. I can see fine.” One of these women was standing about twelve feet away from me during this morning’s screening of Black Swan. Every time someone went to the head she turned on her damn flashlight, and again when they returned. This became extremely annoying; it messed with my concentration. Who needs flashlights to see where they’re going? Little old ladies from Pasadena?

Late last month MCN’s David Poland predicted that Tyler Perry‘s For Colored Girls “is a lock to end up in this year’s Oscar race come December” providing that Lionsgate advances the opening (currently skedded for January 2011) to sometime in December. Due respect to the source material, but this is not a credible projection since Perry is incapable of making an Oscar-worthy film, due to a profound lack of talent.

Darren Aronofsky‘s Black Swan (Fox Searchlight, 12.1) is immediately admitted into the Best of 2010 club. It stands head and shoulders over every previous Aronofsky film — it’s way in front of The Wrestler and don’t even mention Requiem for a Dream. It’s also cinched a Best Picture nomination (obviously) and totally locks in Natalie Portman as a Best Actress nominee. Done, settled, no arguments.

This is Portman’s Bette Davis performance in All About Eve mixed with a little Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? twitchy goony-bird grand guignol, only younger, hotter and (bonus point) bisexual. The movie is also these things but with a little dab of Herbert Ross‘s The Turning Point (did I just say that?) and slight sprinklings of Rosemary’s Baby, Psycho and Ken Russell‘s Mahler.

I was thinking this morning (and I realize I’m being way premature) that Portman might snatch the Best Actress Oscar away from poor Annette Bening, whose Kids Are All Right performance has been looking like the front-runner. The Academy loves and wants to finally take care of Bening after all her frustrating losses (she’s holding this year’s Jeff Bridges industry-goodwill hand) but whaddaya gonna do when a performance like Portman’s comes along? You can’t vote industry-buddy purely for the sake of industry-buddy. You have to man up and give it to the actress with the best chops.

“FUCKING BRILLIANT MOVIE!,” I just wrote Aronofsky. “But Jesus…why did you use the term ‘horror movie’ with me last summer? This is manic psychological realism. All about going mad from a desperate need for creative perfection and mastery of craft, and fear of losing your edge or a competitor stepping in front of you. Each and every anxiety attack plaguing Portman’s ballet-dancer character is self-inflicted, and there’s never a moment when you say, “Okay, now we’re entering the realm of pure wackjob fuck-all horror” — you keep it real from start to finish.

“Blair Witch and The Last Exorcism and that little paranormal thing aside, the horror genre has become so cheap and chewed up, so sullied with a gore-and-blood-bath mentality, so given over to excess and grotesque wallows for the sake of grotesque wallows…whereas your movie is absolutely reality-based — pure psychological metaphor, and always thoroughly tethered to Portman’s mental state. It’s a movie about the inside of an ambitious woman’s head all the way, and yet operatic and schizo and just a gradual tumble of anxiety and panic and finally madness. And yet fascinating all the way through with all the subtle CG and rashes and bleeding cuticles and cracked toenails.

“And wonderful CG! Which is to say the kind of CG that doesn’t call attention to itself 90% of the time. I lost count after a while. 40-something?” No, I was told — Black Swan has just over 300 vfx shots. “Almost every mirror is slightly manipulated,” he said. “Lots of subtle, hopefully unconscious weirdness.” Of course, the unconscious or not-blatantly-noticable weirdness is what’s beautiful about it, I replied. One of the things, I mean. And there are so many.

Cheers also to Portman’s costars — Mila Kunis, Winona Ryder (a grotesque role, but the best thing she’s done in eons), the great Vincent Cassel and Barbara Hershey. And hats off to Matthew Libatique‘s cinematography (which is grainy like The Wrestler‘s), Andrew Weisblum‘s editing and Clint Mansell‘s original score.

I’ve been trying to write my Black Swan review for the last 90 minutes, but my favorite Mac image-manipulation software — picnik.com — is acting wacked, forcing me to use the irritating and altogether tedious iPhoto. I need to find something that’s as easy as Picnik — easy for dumb guys, I mean — but doesn’t twitch out on me. On top of which I need a lover who won’t drive me crazy, but we’ll let that go for now.

King Street — Thursday, 9.9, 8:40 pm.

The Inside Job team prior to last night’s Ryerson screening. I’m afraid I don’t know everyone’s name, but the laid-back bearded guy on the left is Sony co-chief Michael Barker, director Charles Ferguson is standing dead center, the woman in the black dress is either exec producer Christina Weiss Lurie or associate producer Kalyanee Mam, and Sony co-chief Tom Bernard is the big friendly-looking guy to her right.

Prior to last night’s 9 pm screening of Charles Ferguson‘s Inside Job at the Ryerson: