Photo © Universal Pictures
James McAvoy in ‘Speak No Evil’
James McAvoy in ‘Speak No Evil’
In Speak No Evil, an American Generation X couple, Louise (Mackenzie Davis) and Ben (Scoot McNairy), are vacationing in postcard perfect Tuscany. They should be having a glorious time, but the marriage has fissures left undetailed until later in the film and their daughter, Agnes (Alix West Lefler), is troubled. She’s 11 and still clutches a stuffed rabbit for security. Louise and Ben encounter a more free-spirited seeming British couple their own age, Paddy (James McAvoy) and Ciara (Aisling Franciosi), and their introverted 11-year-old son, Ant (Dan Hough). Paddy explains that Ant was born with a tongue too small for speaking. Paddy’s a physician, and Louise and Ben have no reason to doubt his diagnosis until the scars of abuse are uncovered.
Drawing from a recent film by the same name by Danish director Christian Tafdrup, British writer-director James Watkins shepherds Speak No Evil into one of the most brilliant psychological horror stories of recent years. Louise and Ben continue to live in rain-soaked London after Ben’s company closed its UK office (rocky economy), leaving him with a sizeable severance package. Louise had left her career at NPR to follow him, and the headhunters are finding no work for either of them. Although he doesn’t say so, Ben feels emasculated by his inability to be a provider, resulting in impotence for him and infidelity for her.
One of Speak No Evil’s several strengths is Watkins’ refusal to show the cards right away. The unease is given time to grow. After returning to London, Louise and Ben receive a surprise invitation from Paddy and Ciara. Sure, they toasted “to new friends” in Italy, but who expects follow-up from such casual encounters? The Americans are requested to spend a week at Paddy’s farm in Britain’s West Country. They realize soon enough that they should have stayed in rainy London instead of venturing off the motorway and down a winding, unlit road to the rustic abode of their “friends.” It’s a place tucked away in the woods, far from any prying eyes. And in what has become a standard warning sign in contemporary horror, the house is a dead zone for cell phones.
Indicators that all is not right with the happy, liberal-minded British couple accumulate one by one. The first omen might be dismissed as innocent enough. Although they discussed Louise’s vegetarianism at some length in Italy, Paddy insists on serving goose for dinner. Is this forgetfulness or passive aggression? Ant desperately tries to tell the Americans something—a warning?—but he can’t articulate. Paddy is a bit too forward with Louise; his proposal to skinny dip in a deep pond might be medicinal for Louise’s neck pain—“cold water therapy” Paddy calls it—but the Americans are a bit frazzled by unwanted intimations of intimacy. “I don’t find them that pleasant to be around,” Louise tells Ben. When they try to leave, it gets weirder and weirder.
Speak No Evil doesn’t rely on the hackneyed fear-jolts of most recent horror flicks, resting securely instead on the strength of a talented ensemble of actors believably living their roles. The list of anxieties checked by the screenplay starts with the uncertainty of social boundaries in a society without fixed rules of behavior and continues through fear of friendly strangers and the discontent of a white-collar class groomed for success in a world that fails to deliver. One can nod in agreement with Paddy when he says that online, everyone’s talking and nobody’s listening. He adds that “too many people nowadays are afraid of honest debate” and “what we can imagine is much more sexy than what we can do.” Yes, but what about his remark that “predators are essential to maintain the ecosystem”?
Perhaps that’s so, but who’s ecosystem, one wonders, when discomfort sharpens into violence. For all his TED Talk verbiage, Paddy reveals deep seams of anger and bitterness. Quoting Philip Larkin, he says, “Man hands on misery to man,” unaware or unconcerned that he is just another miserable tyrant passing on his pain.
