Jack Thorne reflects on adapting Let the Right One In for the National Youth Theatre, his own creative roots and the challenges facing writers today
Theatre and television writer Jack Thorne has become a defining voice across stage and screen, responsible for projects ranging from Adolescence, Toxic Town and This Is England to the stage work of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, The Motive and The Cue.
Currently he has returned to a project long associated with him: a stage adaptation of Let the Right One In, staged at Underbelly Boulevard Soho in a revival presented by the National Youth Theatre, as that company marks its 70th anniversary.
This production reintroduces the work to a young cast and underlines Thorne’s ongoing interest in intimate, character-led stories.
Thorne originally fashioned this adaptation for the National Theatre of Scotland; it premiered at Dundee Rep in 2013. His version retools the source material by John Ajvide Lindqvist and Tomas Alfredson’s acclaimed film into a stage conversation that foregrounds the relationship at the story’s heart.
For Thorne, the task was to preserve the tale’s emotional core while making it viable for live performance, and to watch a new generation of performers bring fresh energy to the material.
Reframing a familiar vampire tale for the stage
At its centre, Let the Right One In charts the bond between Oskar and Eli: a vulnerable boy and a girl who, though appearing his age, is an immortal vampire. Thorne describes the narrative as both a love story and a study of dependence — how care can rescue someone while also creating moral complexity because Eli depends on blood. On stage, he insisted on making the quieter shared moments the focus, so scenes that might be backgrounded in film — like the pair on playground equipment — become the production’s emotional nucleus.
Staging intimacy and identity
To translate the film’s freedom of movement into theatre, Thorne compressed action, pushing other elements to the margins so the audience watches the pair’s conversation and mutual recognition. He believes this choice produces theatrical intimacy: a stripped-back frame in which identity, acceptance and the burdens of survival become visible. The production also leans on a larger youth ensemble to animate the world around Oskar and Eli while keeping their relationship as the through-line.
Personal threads: childhood, the National Youth Theatre and creative formation
Thorne often locates his work in personal memory. He recalls afternoons in Bristol — moments on swings and skateboard ramps — as formative analogues to the play’s scenes of two kids simply passing time together. He finds pieces of himself in Oskar’s longing. Thorne has even spoken about small personal markers, such as the ‘Be Good’ tattoo on his wrist and naming his son Elliot after his favourite film, ET, as signs of how childhood stories shaped him and his sense of what might rescue a lonely kid.
His own route into the arts ran through the National Youth Theatre. Thorne auditioned twice before being accepted; the experience of being taken seriously and working with ambitious peers changed his trajectory. He remembers a drama teacher who did not expect much of him, and how his father’s support to audition was decisive. For Thorne, NYT remains a model for how intensive early training and risk-taking can reshape lives, and he hopes the company still offers that galvanising community to young creatives.
Championing access, defending writers and wrestling with the future
Outside the rehearsal room, Thorne has been outspoken about access and opportunity in the creative industries. Working with collaborators such as Stephen Graham, he advocates for pathways that allow talent from less privileged backgrounds to flourish — insisting that making a living in acting or writing must feel attainable. He points to success stories like Owen Cooper from Adolescence to show how early platforms matter. As president of the Writer’s Guild, he warns that many writers are struggling and that the cultural sector needs to sustain a production line for new voices.
Industry pressures: television, funding and AI
Thorne highlights two major pressures on writers: shrinking development outlets and technological disruption. The cancellation of long-running series, once a training ground where writers could experiment, reduces opportunities to hone craft. Equally, he has addressed Parliament about the implications of artificial intelligence for creative work, arguing that copyright must be robust and that AI cannot replace the willingness of producers to invest in new talent. He uses the analogy of patents in pharmaceuticals to call for protective frameworks that ensure writers retain control over their work.
Whether through adaptation, mentoring or advocacy, Thorne’s creative life is united by recurring questions rather than tidy answers. He describes a writer’s persistent myth — an engine of inquiry about how to help or why help fails — and accepts ambiguity as central to his practice. Productions like Let the Right One In reflect that uncertain moral terrain: a love story, an identity study and a theatrical experiment all at once, presented here with youthful energy and a determination to keep doors open for the next generation of storytellers.
