Aisling Franciosi | Bouquets & Brickbats

12/09/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

A cut above the usual Blumhouse productions, Speak No Evil is a multi-faceted psychological thriller. Directed by James Watkins, this is an adaptation of a 2022 Danish movie of the same name (which I confess I haven’t seen). It’s also the title of my thriller novel from 1993, but I’m going to be gracious and overlook that fact. Suffice to say that if the aim of the film is to put viewers on the edge of their seats and keep them there for an hour and fifty minutes, then it succeeds in spades.

American couple, Ben (Scoot McNairy) and Louise (Mackenzie Davis), take their needy daughter, Agnes (Alix West Lefler), on holiday to Italy. Ben and Louise are currently going through a rough patch in their relationship and are looking to heal some wounds, so when they fall into company with irrepressibly confident British couple, Paddy (James McAvoy) and Ciara (Aisling Franciosi), they find themselves irresistibly pulled into their orbit. Paddy and Ciara also have a child in tow, the sullen and uncommunicative Ant (Dan Hough), who Paddy – a doctor no less – asserts is suffering from a rare condition that makes him virtually unable to speak.

The six holidaymakers get along surprisingly well. In a reversal of the usual national stereotypes, it’s the Americans who are all prim and repressed and the Brits who take delight in being loud, swaggering and generally unfettered. Then Paddy invites his new acquaintances to leave the pressures of their lives in London to enjoy a post-holiday visit to his lovely home in the West Country. Ben and Louise are at first somewhat unsure, but eventually decide to give it a go. After all, what can possibly go wrong?

Um, plenty as it turns out – but the clever thing about the screenplay (co-written by Watkins with Christian and Mads Tafdrup) is that the ensuing shenanigans at Paddy and Ciara’s suspiciously-palatial homestead are always kept just the right side of believability. This script takes its time to fully establish the American characters, so that we really care when things inevitably begin to go haywire for them. There’s a gradual evolution from edgy confrontation into the realms of full-blown horror. At first, it’s just Paddy and Ciara’s lack of propriety that’s the issue – but, as more and more boundaries are crossed, so the suspense rises to almost unbearable levels.

McAvoy’s Paddy is a wonderfully nuanced creation, by turns warm, emotive, sly and ultimately terrifying – but all the characters are nicely played and Davis in particular excels as she is increasingly compelled to compromise her beliefs. If the film’s latter stages are reminiscent of Sam Peckinpah’s Straw Dogs, well that was a very long time ago (1971 to be precise). Suffice to say that, as the narrative approaches its final furlongs, I find myself having to restrain myself from shouting advice at the screen. You know the kind of thing.

‘Don’t go back in there!’ ‘Look behind you!’ And that perennial favourite, ‘Forget about the cuddly toy!’ (You’ll need to see it to fully understand.)

One thing’s for sure. I’m never going to hear The Bangles performing Eternal Flame again without thinking of this nail-biter. Those of a nervous disposition will probably want to give this a miss, but cinematic thrill-seekers like me are going to enjoy it right down to the final frame, when they may – as I did – realise they’ve been holding their breath for a bit too long…

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Photo by Matt Nettheim

04/08/20

Netflix

It’s been six years since Jennifer Kent’s impressive second feature, The Babadouk initiated the urgent need for more absorbent seating in cinemas throughout the land. But where that film was a cleverly constructed frightmare, The Nightingale is terrifying for entirely different reasons. It’s an unflinching account of events in Tasmania in 1825, where the indigenous population is being systematically eradicated and where everyday life for the white settlers is unrelentingly savage.

I’ve been wanting to see this film for quite some time. On its cinematic release in 2018, it caused much controversy, but I was unable to find a single cinema in my locality that was showing it. Now, finally, here it is on Netflix, in all its excruciating detail. And ‘excruciating’ is definitely the operative word.

The ‘nightingale’ of the title is Clare (Aisling Franciosi), a young Irish woman, sent to the penal colonies for some unspecified crime before being ‘rescued’ by Captain Hawkins (Sam Claflin), a callous and ambitious military officer, who keeps her for his own amusement – and for her ability to sing plaintive Irish ballads.

Clare is now married to another convict, Aidan (Michael Sheasby), and even has a baby by him, but – when Clare asks if, after three years of toil, she and her husband might be allowed to go free – Hawkins (in an almost unwatchable scene) exercises his control over her in the most brutal way imaginable. And when Aidan,, emboldened by drink, goes to plead his wife’s case, horrific violence ensues.

Hawkins and his equally depraved Sergeant, Ruse (Damon Harriman), set off across the hostile landscape to the town where Hawkins is to take up a new commission. Clare follows, intent on revenge, enlisting an aboriginal tracker, Billy (Baykali Ganambarr), to be her guide. At first the two of them simply tolerate each other but, as their arduous journey continues, they start to become friends…

It should be said right up front that The Nightingale is not for the faint hearted. It’s a coruscating, shocking and occasionally heartbreaking story, set during one of the most shameful periods of contemporary history. Rape, murder and general violence are all depicted in unflinching detail – though it’s important to add that at no point does any of it feel prurient. Hawkins is a particularly nasty piece of work – and perhaps it’s this character that prevents the film from being a truly great piece of work – he’s so unremittingly horrible, so vile, that he sometimes borders on caricature: a leering pantomime villain who exists purely for audiences to despise him. I would like some insight into what has made him the loathsome creature that he is. Also, there’s a point in the film where Clare bafflingly appears to lose her lust for vengeance and we’re never entirely sure why this is the case. The film wobbles for fifteen minutes or so, before coming back to full coherence.

And yet, this is a story that needs to be told, a reminder of how dehumanising the process of colonialism is. It’s a matter of historical record that the natives of Tasmania were eradicated by over-zealous settlers in just a few short years: apart, that is, from one old woman who was kept alive… and exhibited in a zoo.

So, steel yourself and watch The Nightingale – if you have the mettle for it. I won’t try to claim that it’s a comfortable experience, but Kent’s film nonetheless tells a story that must never be forgotten.

4 stars

Philip Caveney