Speak No Evil | Review

A lump forms automatically from the beginning don’t speak badJames Watkins’ Devon set is a remake of the 2022 Danish original by Christian Tafdrup. It is a simple tie, a mere clove tie, and hidden beneath a veil of gentlemanliness. Sure, the first thirty minutes of the movie are really funny. Knowledgeable, intelligent and amazingly scholarly. And yet, as things progress, as the danger increases and the signs of the Shadow turn into a startling pit of darkness, the knot grows stronger. It’s too late, you’ve got it. The loop opens and you fall. This is no longer a clove hitch. This is the hangman’s knot.

Watkins’ flavor is slightly milder than Taffdrup’s. The biting social satire has been retained, the nihilistic bent toned down. Where there was no sympathetic soul in the original Abominable, the hammer of judgment falls with greater clarity. That’s always the way, no? Yet Watkins’ film, at least, claims a certain uniqueness, the translation proving as effective in the new language as in the old. Even something of the English folk tradition is incorporated into the ready-made horror of the narrative, a legacy that suits the lush, rolling landscape that now rises within it. It features Danny Bensi and Sonder Juriens incorporating soundscapes, outsiderism and a decidedly wicked late-rising malevolence.

Descent into darkness, the film opens to warmer heights. Mackenzie Davis and Scooter McNairy play Louise and Ben Dalton, an American couple vacationing in sun-drenched Italy with their young daughter – Alix West Leffler’s Agnes. There’s already a bit of awkwardness rife. There is tension between Ben and Louise, while, otherwise, Agnes is in distress when separated from her beloved cozy bunny. In Italy, Dalton met Paddy and Ciara, a British couple who were brought to life by James McAvoy and Aisling Franciosi. He’s mildly charming, he’s wildly funny. His son – Dan Huffs Ant – has not said anything about the matter. He has no tongue and can literally speak no evil. Huff, a newcomer, is great.

Bound by locality and a scary community where scary people share time, the two families connect. Paddy’s offer of a sequel break in Devon, although met with non-committal smiles on offer, proves hard to resist when a return to drab London resurfaces old wounds. And so that’s what they do. Simply, never run away from your problems. Admittedly, this seems like a poor resort when the aforementioned problems prove too insurmountable on a trip to Southwest. To this end, Ben’s unemployment and Louise’s infidelity are easy targets in the domestic dynamics, rather than being examined more aggressively than hay bales and home-made wine suggest.

The key to the scary experience of don’t speak bad There is an understanding of social norms that allow events to unfold. At any point in the film, certainly in the first half, Lewis and Dan could have rewritten their story. They could say no to Paddy’s unreasonable demands, just as they could say no to his increasing passive aggressiveness. The signs are all there. In this respect, McAvoy is worryingly effective. Scott, once a Hollywood heartthrob, displays his worldly charm with unsettling poignancy. It’s a stunning performance – a tour de force in execution – and proves crucial to the film’s ability to resolve itself against the already acclaimed original. His pedi is the epitome of charm, the epitome of evil and the stuff of nightmares.

As the final act approaches, subtlety becomes a victim of rapid pace. The verbose, somewhat redundant, articulation of events and episodes only hinders the gallop toward a finish line that feels pleasantly unexpected. Having built his horror on an atmosphere of tension and social anxiety, Watkins knocks out the obvious in one deft stroke. It’s a nice finale. Good, but bad.