Since the pandemic, both travelling and socialising have become sources of anxiety for many. James Watkins’ new horror will heighten these fears considerably.

A remake of Danish director Christian Tafdrup’s 2022 film of the same name, Watkins’ adaptation isn’t as cold, brutal or nihilistic as the original. It is, after all, hard to beat Nordic filmmaking for bleak, pitch-black social satire. Tafdrup’s film was razor-sharp in its emotional gutting of class inequality - exposing the sort liberal social etiquette which prioritises comfort and politeness over actual values.

Like many American or British adaptations of Nordic work (we shall not discuss Downhill, the Will Ferrell remake of Force Majeure), Watkins' reimagination smooths over the barbed wire of the original, perhaps too much so. That being said, a great cast and a cleverly-constructed focus on gender dynamics make the Englishman's Speak No Evil an interesting, nasty treat for horror fans.

Louise (Mackenzie Davis) and Ben (Scoot McNairy) are a London-based American couple, whose hitherto comfortable middle class life has become slightly less so. Despite this, they can still afford a holiday to Tuscany with young daughter Agnes (Alix West Lefler). There’s an evident lack of joy, spark and trust between the parents, who coexist on a diet of strained politeness. Their quiet discomfort is interrupted by fellow hotel guest Paddy (James McAvoy), whose loud, boorish charisma arrives like a breath of lager-scented fresh air. Paddy is holidaying with his wife Ciara (Aisling Franciosi) and their son Ant (Dan Hough), and the two families end up hanging out together, with Paddy’s brash humour and Ciara’s calmer energy bringing levity to Louise and Ben’s vacation. One early moment sees Paddy interrupt the endless droning of a dull Danish couple by loudly asking them about their toilet habits and bodily functions –  highlighting his ability to weaponise social discomfort to his advantage. Ben, timid and ashamed about his current unemployment, finds this brashness intoxicating. It's an unapologetic vision of masculinity which, on the surface seems a lot more fun and empowering than his own insecure existence.

When Lousie and Ben return to London, their tastefully decorated apartment feels claustrophobic with the tension of past betrayal and Agnes’ consuming anxiety. An invitation to visit Paddy and Ciara in their countryside home arrives in the post, and Ben convinces a reluctant Louise to accept – the first in a series of incidents where she suppresses her instincts in a guilt-ridden attempt to protect her husband's sense of masculinity and power. A bi-product of her middle-class guilt,  Louise also swallows her emotions upon discovering that Paddy and Ciara’s house is not the glamorous modern home she was expecting, but instead a ramshackle, warren-like cottage with low ceilings and stained sheets. Over the course of the weekend, this peace-keeping discomfort grows and escalates, with the vegetarian Louise eating Paddy’s prized goose dish and smiling awkwardly throughout the host couple's overtly sexual interactions. There's also Paddy’s aggressive parenting of Ant to endure, who doesn’t speak due to a medical condition. Over the course of a weekend, Louise and Ben allow their boundaries to be completely trampled by Paddy, each other, and even Agnes, as they try appease their daughter’s anxiety through the use of a meditation app rather than actually keeping her safe. By the time Lousie is pressured into leaving the kids with a babysitter so the adults can go out for dinner, it's clear that this hellish weekend will only get worse.

Performances are great across the board, with McNairy highlighting Ben’s pitiful crisis of masculinity and Davis straddling flinty frustration and a desire to keep the peace. Irish actress Aisling Franciosi's portrayal of Ciara is layered, and her sensitivity, sensuality and nurturing nature balance out Paddy’s in-your-face brand of machismo. McAvoy is fantastic, slowly ramping up Paddy’s aggression, he moves from charmingly bombastic to creepily overbearing, showcasing an astute capability to use warmth and humour to disarm.

Accompanying Watkins' incisive portrayal of class and gender dynamics is a clear understanding of space, with the director making Paddy and Ciara’s country home feel like a claustrophobic, maze-like prison. Nonetheless, there's a defanged quality to his vision. A lot of the psychosexual elements of the original are removed and the final act feels over-explained, stripping the story of unnerving nihilism and instead replacing it with comfortable predictability. The end result is a film that feels more middling than it should.

• In cinemas now.