Can Anything Make Up for Being Named after a Morrissey Song?

The light alone does it for Let the Right One In ( Låt den rätte komma in). But first the words: The title itself is delightfully misbegotten, the result of a translation into Swedish and back again; in English, this phrase feels slightly, ominously wrong, and is wronger in the original song title, "Let the Right One Slip In;" my dim Germanist instinct is the Swedish smoothed it down, where "right one" is just a noun, not a phrase, and you can't shove the verb under the carpet.

The lighting is really bright, really dull, and works like an overwhelming moral force. Without anyone telling you, it mirrors, extends, and maybe transforms the plot. The hero is a pale, translucent picked-on boy; the first shot shows him, with his limp blonde hair and stunned expression, looking through his bedroom window at the the washed-out, insipid Swedish public housing landscape he's confined to. The love interest is, apparently, a girl he meets in the next scene. She's haggard, has dark spots under her eyes and black curly hair, and appears without much explanation out of the night behind him on the playground. The relationship builds with a series of increasingly open gazes, where they look at each other across a transparent pane or mirror, or communicate in Morse Code by tapping through a wall.

The mirrors and barriers turn out to be between this world and the next. The boy's climactic near-death and rescue brings this pattern to a head by violently shattering a mirrored surface. The movie's very bleached-out beauty ends up making the argument: breaking into or out of this pale world takes something that the world itself can never quite tolerate.

What do you call it when cinematography does something markedly different from, but intimately related to, the characters' words and actions? An almost inarticulable harmony across media? A completely valid excuse for being named after a Morrissey song?