Virtually the whole of Let Her Out is set after dark, with soft blues and pinks dominating. The relentless nighttime scenes nicely evoke the blurry, hyperreal sensation of waking in the middle of the night, whilst the muted colours hint at a Winding Refn-esque neon, but distanced; as though we have stepped out into the cold night while the party continues inside. It’s a feel that works well for a film whose central premise harbours a theme of hiding from what lives within.
Were it not for a few laboured frights and a central performance that would sit better in a less ambitious, more generic horror, Let Her Out could have stood close behind the best that modern horror has to offer. As it is, it’s an effectively unsettling and moody film with a strong central premise and an organic and meticulously crafted structure that gradually closes in around the viewer. The emotion inherent in the story may go frustratingly unexplored, but the film holds together with striking visuals and a quiet intimacy that permeates even through the scenes of frenzied horror.