There’s a certain art to films that make you uncomfortable, the kind that doesn’t rely on jump scares or gory effects but instead digs its claws into your mind, festering there for days after the credits roll. “Speak No Evil” is exactly that kind of film—a sinister little piece of cinema that leaves you questioning not only what you just watched but also your life choices leading up to the moment you hit play. If you’re in the mood for something that feels like a slow, torturous dance with doom, this Danish horror film might be right up your alley. But beware, it’s not for the faint of heart, or frankly, for those who prefer their horror with a side of entertainment.
A Plot That Lures You In and Then Slams the Door Shut
“Speak No Evil” starts off innocently enough. We meet Bjørn (Morten Burian) and Louise (Sidsel Siem Koch), a seemingly perfect Danish couple, and their young daughter, Agnes. While on holiday in Tuscany, they meet the charmingly eccentric Dutch couple, Patrick (Fedja van Huêt) and Karin (Karina Smulders), along with their rather unusual son, Abel. The two families strike up an unlikely friendship over the course of their vacation. The Danes are enamored by their new friends’ carefree, adventurous spirit—something Bjørn, in particular, seems to envy as he navigates his own mundane, if comfortable, life back home.
Weeks later, they receive a surprise invitation from Patrick and Karin to visit them in their remote countryside home in the Netherlands. Against their better judgment—because who wouldn’t be slightly suspicious of such an invite from people they’ve barely met—they decide to accept, chalking it up to a sense of adventure and perhaps, politeness.
The first half of the film is a masterclass in building tension through the mundane. Little things feel off: a half-forgotten piece of dialogue, a too-wide smile, a joke that lands a bit too hard. Director Christian Tafdrup expertly crafts a sense of unease that’s hard to pin down but impossible to ignore. And just when you think you know where it’s all headed, “Speak No Evil” gleefully pulls the rug out from under you, leaving you tumbling into a pit of despair from which there is no escape.
Politeness as a Weapon of Mass Destruction
What “Speak No Evil” does particularly well—and what may just make your skin crawl for days afterward—is its brutal examination of social niceties and the dangers of being too polite. There’s a pervasive, almost suffocating sense of discomfort as Bjørn and Louise continually ignore their gut instincts in favor of keeping the peace. Small slights and odd behaviors pile up, each more disturbing than the last, yet they stay because they don’t want to seem rude. It’s a painfully relatable scenario that plays on our collective fear of confrontation, amplified to a nightmarish extreme.
Imagine being trapped in a house with people who are clearly unhinged, yet every fiber of your being insists on maintaining decorum. It’s like watching someone refuse to run out of a burning building because they don’t want to hurt the fire’s feelings. By the time the true horror reveals itself, you’re screaming at the screen, wondering why on Earth they didn’t just leave when they had the chance. But that’s the brilliance—and the tragedy—of this film. Tafdrup taps into a universal vulnerability: our often self-destructive need to be liked, even in the face of mortal danger.
Performances That Haunt You Long After the Credits Roll
The performances in “Speak No Evil” are nothing short of phenomenal, adding an extra layer of unease to the already chilling narrative. Morten Burian’s portrayal of Bjørn is particularly haunting. He embodies the quintessential everyman—polite, agreeable, and quietly suffering from the existential dread of middle age. His slow descent into panic is palpable, making you squirm in your seat as he tries and fails to assert himself in the increasingly bizarre situations.
Sidsel Siem Koch as Louise is equally compelling, playing a mother who is torn between her protective instincts and her desire to avoid conflict. Her subtle expressions of mounting fear are gut-wrenching, especially as she realizes the predicament they’re in but feels paralyzed by the very politeness that’s been ingrained in her.
On the flip side, Fedja van Huêt’s Patrick is both charming and terrifying, a wolf in sheep’s clothing whose genial exterior masks something much darker. His performance is a masterclass in the art of making viewers uneasy without ever resorting to overt menace—until, of course, he does, and then it’s too late for everyone involved.
A Third Act That Will Leave You Reeling
If you’re the kind of person who likes a film that rewards your patience with a satisfying conclusion, you might want to sit this one out. The third act of “Speak No Evil” is where the film takes a nosedive straight into the depths of despair, with no reprieve in sight. It’s unflinchingly brutal, a relentless descent into psychological horror that leaves no room for hope or redemption.
Without giving too much away, let’s just say that the final scenes are among the most harrowing you’ll likely ever witness. Tafdrup doesn’t pull any punches here, and the result is a climax that feels like a gut punch—a twisted, horrifying culmination of everything that’s come before. It’s the kind of ending that will leave you staring at the screen in stunned silence, unsure of whether to applaud the audacity or curse the filmmakers for putting you through it.
A Film That Will Divide Audiences
“Speak No Evil” is not a film that everyone will enjoy. In fact, enjoyment might not be the right word at all. It’s a film that’s designed to unsettle, to provoke, and to stick with you long after it’s over. For some, it will be a masterclass in tension and psychological horror, a bold and daring piece of cinema that refuses to coddle its audience. For others, it will be an exercise in misery, a film that’s too bleak, too nihilistic, and too uncomfortable to recommend.
What cannot be denied, however, is the craftsmanship on display. Tafdrup’s direction is precise and deliberate, with every shot and every line of dialogue contributing to the mounting sense of dread. The pacing is slow, almost agonizingly so, but it’s this very slowness that lulls you into a false sense of security before the film turns the screws.
Thematically, “Speak No Evil” offers a scathing critique of social dynamics, particularly the dangers of adhering too rigidly to the expectations of politeness and civility. It’s a horror film that holds up a mirror to our own weaknesses, forcing us to confront the uncomfortable truth that sometimes, we’re our own worst enemies.
Final Verdict: Should You Watch It?
Rating: 4 out of 5 Tormented Souls
“Speak No Evil” is a difficult film to rate because it doesn’t fit neatly into any one box. It’s not the kind of horror movie you pop on for a fun Friday night with friends. It’s dark, it’s disturbing, and it’s downright depressing. But it’s also incredibly well-made, with stellar performances and a narrative that will leave you questioning your own sense of propriety.
If you’re a fan of psychological horror and don’t mind films that leave you feeling like you need to take a long, hot shower afterward, then “Speak No Evil” is worth your time. Just be prepared for a film that will challenge you, unsettle you, and make you think twice before accepting an invitation from anyone you meet on holiday.
In the end, “Speak No Evil” is a film that takes a sledgehammer to the concept of social niceties, exposing the dark underbelly of human interaction. It’s not an easy watch, but then again, the best films rarely are.
