Impolite company
The opening shot of Speak No Evil is of a car’s headlights ploughing through the darkness of a deserted, tree-lined road. The image is innocent enough, yet the soundtrack vibrates with such disproportionate dread that when, seconds later, the road was replaced by a sunny vacation scene, I still had goose bumps.
Gliding inexorably from squirmy to sinister to full-on shocking, this icy satire of middle-class mores, confidently directed by Christian Tafdrup, is utterly fearless in its mission to unsettle. When a Danish couple, Bjorn and Louise (Morten Burian and Sidsel Siem Koch), receives an invitation to visit the Dutch couple they met months earlier on a Tuscan vacation, they’re initially reluctant. Yet both families have young children who seemed to get along, and it would be ungracious to refuse a long weekend in the countryside. As one of their friends points out, what’s the worst that could happen?
We’re about to find out. The sight of their destination, a middle-of-nowhere farmhouse, is only the beginning of the Danes’ misgivings. Their hosts, Patrick and Karin (Fedja van Huêt and Karina Smulders), are jovial and welcoming, but why does Patrick insist on feeding wild boar to Louise, knowing she’s vegetarian? And why did he lie about being a doctor, then admit he has never held a job at all? Invited to dine in an otherwise deserted restaurant, Bjorn and Louise watch uncomfortably as their hosts enthusiastically make out on the dance floor. At night, a child’s agonised, animalistic moans reverberate through the house, the sounds explained by Patrick as a result of their son’s speech defect: a foreshortened tongue.
Too polite to confront their hosts’ increasingly outrageous behaviour, the Danes are ill-prepared when it begins to impact their preteen daughter. In the press notes, Tafdrup, who wrote the script with his brother, Mads Tafdrup, explains his belief that social conditioning has made us too refined, blunting our survival instincts and even our common sense. For Bjorn, though, the aversion to confrontation is more complicated. Irked by his overly predictable life, he harbours a nascent attraction to Patrick’s unfettered solipsism.
Cool to the touch and photographed with unerring sophistication by Erik Molberg Hansen, Speak No Evil is a slow-closing trap whose final 15 minutes are genuinely terrifying. As an examination of pure maleficence, the movie is less than thorough. But as a warning to always listen to your gut? It’s perfect.