Manners maketh things awkward. On vacation we find the Daltons, husband Ben (Scoot McNairy), wife Louise (Mackenzie Davis), and daughter Agnes (Alix West Lefler) in the beautiful location of Italy. It is relaxing, if somewhat rote, with the vacation becoming a microcosm of Ben and Louise’s marriage. Their vacation receives an unexpected jolt in the form of couple Paddy (James McAvoy) and Ciara (Aisling Franciosi), taking in the Tuscan countryside with their son, Ant (Dan Hough), born with a smaller tongue and left unable to speak.

The unfiltered Paddy and Ciara are polar opposites to the unassuming Daltons. Like so many opposites, they’re attracted to each other like a moth to a flame, particularly Ben to Paddy. Back home in London, it has been months since the Daltons had their unique experience with the quirky couple, and one day, they get an opportunity to visit Paddy and Ciara at their residence. Not all is as envisioned; Dr. Paddy and his wife live in a home that doesn’t seem fitting for a doctor, and they’re less politically correct than most. Could be worse, right? Sure, but benign incidents transform into troublesome ones, making Ben, Louise, and Agnes’ weekend stay something of a nightmare.

It was a small movie originating from Denmark, but for bulk of those who viewed it, 2022’s Speak No Evil left very few indifferent, prompting a visceral reaction one way or another. Two years later, the ever-present Blumhouse Productions has decided to dip its toes back into remake/reboot territory (which haven’t been all that successful with them in recent years, bottoming out with Halloween Ends and The Exorcist: Believer) with releasing an American version of Speak No Evil. While it adheres closely to its predecessor in its themes of toxic masculinity and the downsides of profuse politeness, it deviates just enough in its final act to make it an welcomed surprise.

Horror aficionado James Watkins writes and directs the Americanized offering. Like Danish director Christian Tafdrup, Watkins chooses to linger in the awkwardness of it all, very much reminiscent to exchanges on The Office or Curb Your Enthusiasm. Like his lead antagonist, Watkins’ direction is deliberate; this is not a film based around jump scares or frequent bloodletting. But, it is stifling in its atmosphere, and one big thing that stands out more in this offering compared to the Danish one is the house itself. Decrepit and crypt-like, it serves as an adequate playground for the horrors occurring later.

Watkins’ version of Speak No Evil follows the 2022 framework through the first half or so of its runtime. But, it does manage to deviate from and in ways improve upon aspects that were pretty sparse in the first, like its characters. While we lose the cultural dynamics, we get substantial marital backstory that serves to explain why—despite Louise’s instincts telling her it’s a bad idea—she would agree to spend a weekend with people she doesn’t know due to her desire to make up to a struggling Ben, wayward in life without a career and missing the thing known simply as confidence. For Paddy, Watkins has revelations that are far from shocking, but they provide context to how he may have ended up the way he is. Speak No Evil’s final act pushes it into basic subgenre territory (if you’ve seen one psycho-stalker movie, you’ve likely seen them all and can chart the ending), yet it “fixes” the key issue many had with 2022’s feature presentation upon its events leading to the climax.

It makes total sense McAvoy’s name and countenance are front and center on the main poster, because this is his vehicle. Physically, verbally, and emotionally, McAvoy is commanding on the screen as the psychotic Paddy. Watching him slowly and steadily push the boundaries of his houseguests is uncomfortable, and also darkly magnetic. Easy to see how people could at the right time fall for his approach, vibrating between feathery and forceful. Solid supporting performance from Davis, McNairy, and Franciosi shouldn’t be forgotten, and the children (particularly Hough whose dialogue is predominantly contained to muffled grunts) do a lot of heavy lifting. But you’ll come and stay for the McAvoy of it all.

Not often that a remake in such a short amount of time comes close to what came before it, but in the case of 2024’s Speak No Evil, it does that and even has a claim for being better. At worst, it’s a worthy—and lighter—companion piece to its Danish counterpart.

B

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