Speak No Evil

Reminding us that menacing cinematic villains don’t always have to be aliens or supernatural beings, Speak No Evil gives us a monster who feels like your next-door neighbor.

This British remake of the 2022 Danish thriller softens some of its edges for mainstream consumption, especially in the final act, yet effectively builds tension through exploring trust, parental instincts, and human nature.

The story opens on a sun-drenched vacation for American couple Ben (Scoot McNairy) and Louise (Mackenzie Davis), where they meet the free-spirited Paddy (James McAvoy) and his wife, Ciara (Aisling Franciosi).

Paddy’s outgoing charm as a witty conversationalist persuades them to let their collective guard down almost instantly. So when the American couple is later invited by Paddy to spend a weekend at their rural farm, they see it as an opportunity to rekindle a spark.

Their desire to see things as better than they are downplay any suspicions about strange behavior from Paddy and Ciara’s nonverbal son (Dan Hough), who forms a bond with Ben and Louise’s preteen daughter (Alix West Lefler).

The boy frantically scribbles messages in a foreign language that he doesn’t want his parents to see. The girl misplaces a plush toy that scuttles their best chance to leave unscathed.

Meanwhile, the visitors are so caught up in their own issues that they ignore red flags regarding Paddy’s mysterious motives and intentions — plus evidence of a sinister past — until it’s too late.

The screenplay by director James Watkins (The Woman in Black) derives tension in part from relatable character dynamics, providing an extreme example of how we often withhold secrets to avoid offending others or keep up appearances.

McAvoy’s charisma elevates the project above genre conventions, as he gleefully chews the scenery with a captivating character who’s disarmingly pushy one minute and revealing his secret affinity for the Bangles ballad “Eternal Flame” the next.

The film doesn’t bog down in its coincidences or calculations. However, as a steady buildup to an inevitable climax, it needs snappier pacing to support its scattered clever twists and social satire.

For those who saw its predecessor, there’s not much reason to revisit the material here. For newcomers, though, Speak No Evil provides some wicked amusement.

Rated R, 110 minutes.