-By Maitland McDonagh

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There’s a ring of hell reserved for teenagers who just don’t fit in, especially odd-kids-out stuck in small communities where grade-school labels are almost impossible to shake. But after years of lonely nerd-dom, high-school senior Charlie Brewster (Anton Yelchin) has cracked the cool-kid code and managed to make class hottie Amy (Imogen Poots)—who turns out to be smart, surprisingly nice and a secret good girl—his girlfriend, which makes him just cool enough that the alpha dogs have stopped snapping at his heels.

Overall, life is looking up, though Charlie knows sacrificing his best friend, über-geek Ed (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), to the pursuit of social advancement was a rotten thing to do. And it’s kind of weird that several classmates have just stopped coming to school, but hey, everyone’s parents work in Las Vegas (which is just close enough to light up the night sky, but out of reach for a carless kid), the quintessential transient town. And then the ridiculously studly Jerry (Colin Farrell) moves in next-door.

Jerry seems like a nice guy…friendly, polite, helpful. He’s fixing up the house, which was well on its way to becoming the place that makes the whole block look shabby, and wins over Charlie’s divorced mom (Toni Collette) by volunteering to do some repairs on her place. He treats Charlie with just the right mix of avuncular interest and man-to-man respect. So, of course, Ed gets it into his head that Jerry is a vampire and tries to enlist Charlie in his painfully uncool plan to unmask the monster next door. The thing is, Ed is right, and after he disappears, Charlie starts reading up on the undead. Jerry needs to be dealt with, and the only person Charlie can think of to turn to for help is Ed’s idol, self-proclaimed occult expert and Vegas headliner Peter Vincent (David Tennant).

It would be easy to lump Fright Night in with the apparently inexhaustible wave of remakes that’s produced glossy but generally undistinguished versions of ’70s and ’80s horror movies, from classics like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Friday the 13th to the less celebrated Prom Night, Motel Hell and My Bloody Valentine. But it would be a mistake, because Fright Night is pretty damned good, a remake that retains the best and reworks the rest with a cleverness rooted in Marti Noxon’s (TV’s “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”) knowledge of and respect for the genre. Turning Roddy McDowall’s Peter Vincent, a campy late-night horror host, into a Criss Angel-like magician who’s made a fortune tarting up old tricks with sexy horror trappings, is brilliant. So is relocating the story from a real suburb (which is not an oxymoron) to a fake one whose streets, lined with modest houses and neatly manicured lawns, all lead to the lifeless Nevada desert.

The film also boasts strong casting, from the young leads to Colin Farrell, striking the same balance between allure and menace as Chris Sarandon (who originated the role and makes a memorable cameo appearance); Toni Collette, who manages to make something of the thankless mom role; and David Tennant, whose dissolute, self-loathing Vincent is simultaneously hilarious ("Midori me!" deserves instant induction into the movie-quotes hall of fame), sad and utterly unique.