An enchanting, brutal vampire myth and coming-of-age love story adapted from the best-selling novel and award-winning film LET THE RIGHT ONE IN.

Déjame Entrar was our first profesional stage production. Based on the novel by John Ajvide Lindqvist (and adapted for the stage by Jack Thorne), it’s a story that pushes emotional and moral boundaries. At its core, it’s about loneliness, bullying, and the desperate need to connect - wrapped in a supernatural thriller about a vampire who looks like a child but has lived for centuries.

A Dark Love Story

Déjame Entrar was my first time directing profesional theatre. It came with a mix of fear and hunger: a new frontier.

We had a month-long rehearsal process for what turned out to be a one-week theatrical run. Everything was new to us: printed programs, poster design, selling tickets, licensing the rights to Jack Thorne’s incredible play, managing hundreds of patrons in a theatre we struggled to secure. But how can you not fall in love with this process?

From the beginning, I knew this wasn’t going to be your typical horror story. It’s more than blood and fear - it’s about what happens when someone finally sees you. The love story between Oskar and Eli is uncomfortable, violent, and beautiful in its own twisted way. That paradox is what drew me to it. We weren’t interested in doing a sanitized version so we went full in with the dark and dangerous themes the story needed.

Oscar (Paolo Salinas) and Eli (Emy Mena) on stage.

The Staging Challenge

Our cast transferred from a postponed TV pilot that we were producing, and we had a blast bringing this incredibly touching spectacle of a script to life. From hanging actors upside down, slitting throats, making vampires fly in a techno mayhem, to making it snow - for us, this was a boundary-pushing experience.

The snow was made from shredded recycled paper - lightweight, reflective, and difficult to control. We kept on pouring more and more before each performance, which added great visual impact but created significant technical challenges. The material was slippery, invasive, and nearly impossible to clean. By the end of the run, it had found its way into every corner of the venue - and our homes.

Staging Déjame Entrar in the FEPADE auditorium required both technical precision and emotional restraint. We had to construct scenes of quiet intimacy that transitioned seamlessly into moments of physical violence and bullying. Murders, blood effects, and supernatural movement had to be choreographed with care to avoid slipping into parody. Every lighting cue, sound effect, and transition was calibrated to balance theatrical stylization and emotional realism.

The most demanding sequence was the swimming pool scene. Installing a functioning pool on stage was not feasible, so we developed an alternative: a custom-built transparent tank (our very own “fish bowl”) that allowed the audience to view the final underwater moment in full clarity. It was a nightmare - heavy to move, sneaking into every crack, messing with the lights. I thought it would be magical. It was mostly chaos. Lesson learned.

Recreating the sparse, wintry landscapes of Sweden within the context of El Salvador presented another creative challenge. We embraced abstraction - using bare branches, minimal set pieces, and shifting light to evoke coldness and isolation.

We employed every available theatrical device - pyrotechnics, water, snow, blood, sound - and even hanged actors upside down to dramatize throat-slitting scenes. Our commitment to a fully cinematic experience was everywhere. Our aim was to provoke, to unsettle, and to ensure the themes stayed with the audience long after blackout.

Miguel Amador and Fernando Arteaga on stage.

Director’s Note

Taken from the program (in all it’s Spanish glory):

Yo no soy más que un guía para las mentes increíblemente creativas que actúan en esta producción. Y no sé por dónde empezar... llevamos más de un año tratando de montar DÉJAME ENTRAR en El Salvador. Así que antes que nada, gracias. Gracias por venir a vernos.

Todos me han preguntado por qué decidimos producir Déjame Entrar... por qué ahorita... Sí, esta es la única obra de teatro de vampiros que encontramos — y sí, no me aguanto por ver a Eli matar a un par de personas en el escenario... pero la verdad es que la razón es porque en su fondo, estamos contando una historia de abuso y separación familiar... de “bullying”... de abandono... temas REALES, enmarcados en el contexto fantástico de un romance entre un niño y un vampiro.

Desde la primera lectura del guión, hemos venido discutiendo cómo a pesar que son temas que no se hablan mucho en nuestro país, la falta de apoyo de parte de una buena estructura familiar, buenas instituciones educativas y el respeto de los valores de parte de nuestro gobierno han venido afectando a la mayoría de jóvenes hoy en día. Jóvenes como nuestro personaje principal; OSKAR. Alguien que al estar tan desconectado... tan perdido... tan solo y tan desesperado por conectar con cualquiera, que termina enamorándose de la criatura más extraña que encuentra - la única que lo hace sentir valorado y querido, que le importe la falsedad o la gravedad de ese “final feliz”.

Así que les pido, para que no terminemos llenos de sangre, tratémonos bien, abracemos a un par de personas y tratemos de escuchar. Porque así como Ángel Flamenco no me deja olvidar “El mal solo necesita el silencio".

Cast & Crew

I was lucky to work with a fearless cast. Our young actors took on emotionally demanding material and didn’t flinch. The chemistry between our two leads (Emy Mena & Paolo Salinas) was fragile and electric - just what the story needed. Our ensamble included Miguel Amador, Boris Barraza, Carlos Hirleman, Carlos Aylagas, Gabi Rivera, Otto Rivera, Fernando Arteaga and William Castillo.

This show was a wild, unforgettable ride - rushing to load in lights, feeling the buzz of the ocasional sold-out performance, juggling everything from cue sheets to sound levels to snack sales in the lobby. At one point, I even had to jump onstage when an ensemble member fell sick just minutes before curtain. Somehow, the show went on. That last-minute substitution ended up starting a strange little tradition… one that would come back to haunt me in future productions.