“People need fun,” James Watkins protested to SFX magazine ahead of Speak No Evil‘s cinematic release, seemingly only too aware that his English-language remake of Christian Tafdrup’s 2022 Danish horror will spark controversy among horror aficionados and critics alike.
It is not the first time that a director has taken on the task of revamping a Scandi horror for English-speaking audiences – and it certainly wouldn’t have been the first time a director completely botched said reboot. Austrian body horror Goodnight Mommy (2014) spawned a “pointless, soulless” American version in 2022. American vampire thriller Let Me In (2010) was preceded by the original Swedish adaptation Let The Right One In (2008). This is mirrored by the persistent remaking of Asian horror titles, which dates back decades and has spawned notable clangers including The Grudge (2004) and The Eye (2008).
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Michael Haneke’s Austrian home invasion film Funny Games (1997) was also remade in English, a decade after the original, with the notable caveat that Haneke himself wrote and directed it, painstakingly recreating the scenes from his original thriller shot by shot. Still, it left many wondering if Haneke had sold out. New York Times critic AO Scott seemed dubious, calling Funny Games (2007) a “compulsively faithful replica” of Haneke’s German-language original, scornfully adding, “If Mr. Haneke wanted to break into the American market…he should have undertaken not a remake but a sequel.” Niels Arden Oplev asked the big question that looms over English-language remakes when his Swedish original The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo got the Hollywood treatment courtesy of David Fincher. “Why would they remake something when they can just go see the original?” Oplev mused in an interview with Word & Film.
One unfortunate answer is that many English-speaking audiences are still reluctant to watch subtitled films. American and British film-goers have already been taken to task for this entitled desire to be catered for by Korean director Bong Joon Ho, who in his Golden Globe acceptance speech for Parasite, famously said, “Once you overcome the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.”
But on rare occasions, a director finds a way to retell an existing story to a fresh audience. Watkins’ reimagining of Speak No Evil, transported from The Netherlands to England, seemingly opens with the same characters in the same setting as the original: a mum and dad lounge by a pool in Italy while their daughter splashes around in the water, occasionally bugging them for attention. But right from the off the atmosphere is different. There are no wailing violins to alert the audience that something is wrong. The scenery is bright and spacious. This little girl is not wearing a swimsuit in the slick shade of fresh blood.
Both films feature two families that meet on holiday in Italy and become friendly. In Tafdrup’s film, the holidaymakers bond over how similar Danish and Dutch cultures are, with the Danish family ultimately invited to their newfound friends’ cottage in the Dutch countryside. They agree to visit them for the weekend because it “would be a little impolite to decline”. In the remake, the American Dalton family agrees to venture out of London and into the English countryside for a weekend at Paddy and Ciara’s West Country home because they are unemployed and miserable.
Despite having the same premise, as Watkins’ Speak No Evil progresses, the differences between the two films become more and more apparent. Tafdrup’s original film is solemn and brooding. It builds up, ever so slowly, to a shocking climax. James Watkins’ Speak No Evil feels more – as he described it himself – like a roller coaster ride.
People watch horror films for different reasons – some want to be confronted by the darkest aspects of the human psyche, while others just want a thrill. The original Speak No Evil begs the question: “How much will you let a stranger push your boundaries in the name of politeness?” while the remake takes a completely different route. Watkins is more interested in scaring his audience with an intricate game of cat and mouse than interrogating social norms. The director knew that his decision to alter the infamous final scene of the original would be an unpopular one, but he protested that his version made sense in the context of his characters’ motives – and he was right.
Tafdrup’s Danish father Bjørn (Morten Burian) is clearly tormented by something deeper than a recent move. In early scenes he can be seen crying to an aria, pacing his hotel room while his wife and child sleep soundly, and frequently staring into the middle distance when Louise tries to discuss parenting duties with him. By contrast, Ben Dalton (Scoot McNairy) mostly seems upset to be out of a job.
Bjørn seems to long for an escape from his family life altogether. His daughter’s needs frustrate him, while his relationship with his wife lacks intimacy both physically and emotionally. It is not so surprising that he gets granted that escape at the end of the film – albeit not in the way that he would have wanted. Bjørn and Patrick (the Dutch father in Tafdrup’s film) feel more like two sides of the same coin: two men who feel similarly constricted by the roles they have been forced into in life, but take very different measures to address that feeling.
Ben Dalton, on the other hand, clearly wants a place in his family; he just feels insecure in it, with his concerns more related to masculinity. This film’s villain, Paddy (James McAvoy), fills the screen with his passion and overt masculine energy. Ben is drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Paddy seems to represent everything Ben wants to be but isn’t – hearty, good with his hands, authoritarian, macho and virile. In order to progress, Ben has to either become Paddy or defeat him. This sets the film up for a very different climax.
There would be no point in watching a remake that simply rehashed the same ideas the original film put forward, but in English this time – this has been the downfall of many English-language remakes. Speak No Evil (2024) wisely avoids this, instead having a new function. Visual cues are used to jolt viewers forward in alarm: blood stains on bed sheets, a child’s back full of bruises, and scribbled warning notes in a different language. McAvoy and Aisling Francisosi’s charming and vivacious English hosts have good explanations for everything, and the audiences settle back into their seats, relieved – until the plot takes a turn and they are going down the rollercoaster at full tilt again.
Speak No Evil (2022) is much sadder in tone, with the sparse Dutch landscapes and lingering violins of the score creating a melancholic atmosphere. Interactions between the families appear fairly normal – until they’re not – and Bjørn’s wife Louise (Sidsel Siem Koch) initially comes across as unreasonable for wanting to leave. Tafdrup’s Speak No Evil isn’t the kind of horror film that leaves you with your heart in your mouth again and again, but the final scenes stay with you, long after you leave the cinema. Watkins’ remake likely won’t have that effect, but arguably Watkins didn’t intend it to. Instead, he takes us on a wild ride through the fast lane, putting viewers through one terrifying close shave after another until they finally walk out of the screening relieved and exhilarated.
