Disclaimer: “Speak No Evil” has not yet been released in theaters, with its wide-scale distribution officially set to begin Friday. The Lantern recently participated in an early film screening as well as a virtual roundtable interview with lead actress Mackenzie Davis.

Snakes. Heights. The dark. These common fears are widely acknowledged as daunting. 

“Speak No Evil” — director James Watkins’ English-language remake of Danish director Christian Tafdrup’s 2022 film by the same name — draws attention to another primordial fear that may just be more frightening than any other: dinner parties. 

Whether it’s dinner with in-laws, drinks with co-workers or high school reunions, everyone has had to begrudgingly put on a good face to maintain the fragile balance of politeness and decorum that keeps an awkward situation from getting ugly. 

In “Speak No Evil,” an American family befriends an overly exuberant British couple while on vacation, eventually agreeing to spend a few days at their house so their shy children can bond with one another. 

What starts as a seemingly successful playdate quickly turns into a fascinating battle of wills between the two sets of parents, as the British couple’s eccentric personalities begin to make the Americans question if their hosts are hiding a dark secret.

“Speak No Evil” isn’t a horror movie in the traditional sense of the term. It lacks the jumpscares and consistent frights necessary to consistently conform to the genre, but what it does offer is arguably more terrifying. 

The film explores how much people will excuse in the name of courtesy, even if it comes at the expense of their own well-being — or their immediate safety. 

Though it may not be the most textbook horror flick, “Speak No Evil” is overpoweringly uneasy. 

The sometimes-cringe, sometimes-disturbing feeling permeating through the screen isn’t caused by gore or monsters; rather, this discomfort emerges from filmmakers pointing a mirror at viewers, suggesting that if they were in a similar situation, they’d express similar behaviors to avoid an uncomfortable conversation or two.

The main controversy surrounding “Speak No Evil” is its remake status, seeing as the original film was released just two years ago. Some have criticized the apparent need to pander to English-speaking audiences that are too lazy to read subtitles. 

It’s true the newest “Speak No Evil” doesn’t do much to justify its existence, apart from featuring a terrifying performance from James McAvoy — arguably his best showing since his role as a young Professor X in the “X-Men” franchise. 

The film is essentially a beat-for-beat remake of its Danish predecessor, with the only notable difference being its slightly more comedic tone.

Debates around remakes aside, “Speak No Evil” is here, and it’s undoubtedly an entertaining, well-paced horror-comedy that features great performances from its leads, including McAvoy and Mackenzie Davis (“Black Mirror,” “The Martian”). 

Ultimately, “Speak No Evil” is an uncomfortably relatable film that adds to 2024’s growing slate of underappreciated horror flicks.

Rating: 3.5/5

Lorne Michaels should send a check to Sony.

Because the studio’s sent him a love letter. In their new movie “Saturday Night,” a madcap comedy about the 90-minute dash leading up to the 1975 debut episode of “SNL,” the show’s famously enigmatic creator is lionized. 

Michaels, the most important behind-the-scenes comedic force of the past 50 years, is placed on an innovator pedestal alongside the likes of Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg, only without their personal downsides.

He’s portrayed as an optimistic young underdog with an improbably bold vision: a completely live, weekly sketch series starring inexperienced, unpolished nobodies in a desert island of time slots.

His “This is Sparta!” speech comes during the climax, when Lorne (Gabriel LaBelle) is grilled by NBC exec David Tebet (Willem Dafoe) about what “Saturday Night Live” exactly is.

Michaels, finding his confidence in real time, tells doubting David it’s discovering a hot new comic at the back of a bar downtown, or being swept up by the music at a tucked-away jazz club.

“It’s everything you think is going to happen when you move to the city,” says a then-30-year-old Michaels. “That’s ‘Saturday Night.’” 

And that’s the stuff of goose bumps.

The David-and-Goliath confrontation is the best and most grounded scene in Jason Reitman’s never-less-than-likable film, which had its international premiere Tuesday at the Toronto International Film Festival. 

The plot barrels forward like the brakes are broken. And, being a Tour de Frantic, it can be hard to keep up. The gist is that this massive TV hit that spawned countless stars was nearly a disaster that didn’t make it to air. Execs were ready to roll a “Tonight Show” rerun instead. 

Knowing this is his only chance, Michaels races around 30 Rock and Studio 8H attempting to get his scrappy creation up and running.  

He must control his boisterous young stars, who treat the office as a kegger — or worse. John Belushi (Matt Wood, a find) refuses to sign his contract and heads to a bar. George Carlin (Matthew Rhys), the first host, gets lockjaw from snorting too much cocaine. 

The set’s not finished and the dress rehearsal ran three hours. An NBC page (Finn Wolfhard) stands outside on 48th Street begging passersby to be audience members.

On the periphery of the art, there are corporate concerns. The affiliates are in town to decide if they even want to air whatever this is. And whiny network stars Milton Berle (J.K. Simmons) and Johnny Carson are threatened by the annexation of their late-night turf. 

For a movie that’s barely longer than an episode of “SNL,” that’s a lot of ground to cover. And those “Noises Off”-style backstage snafus are just a small sampling of all the action. But Reitman ably crams it in, even if the onslaught occasionally gives us whiplash. 

Always in motion, “Saturday Night” can be a bit like if Joan Cusack’s sprint at the start of “Broadcast News” lasted for an hour and 45 minutes.

Since the characters barely get a chance to catch their breath, let alone say their piece, we don’t learn much about them beyond familiar traits. However, Reitman’s aim isn’t to seriously illuminate that fateful night so much as to energetically add to showbiz mythology. 

The director said onstage at the premiere that, during interviews, the real talents’ accounts of that first show all contradicted each other. We can tell, but the absurdity is part of the fun.

On Oct. 11, 1975, Gilda Radner, Chevy Chase and Dan Aykroyd were not yet household names. They barely mattered in their own studio. But over the course of that year, they’d explode. 

So it’s fitting that, in casting actors to play them, Reitman chose some of Hollywood’s most talented rising stars who America will soon know very well.

LaBelle, a revelation as a young Steven Spielberg in “The Fabelmans,” wows once again as Michaels, another dreamer. 

I never guessed that Cory Michael Smith, who I’ve watched for years onstage and in Todd Haynes’ films, would make such an uncanny and hilarious Chase with a gift for punch lines.

Cooper Hoffman, whose star-is-born moment came in “Licorice Pizza,” brings that same charming gumption to producer Dick Ebersol. And Ella Hunt exudes Radner’s easy effervescence. 

The cast is sadly too gigantic to list off. Some are skilled impressionists, while others manage to get to the meat of their person. Like the aftermath of a sketch being cut from an “SNL” episode, there are times when you wish you could see a lot more of certain performers.

In any case — and who would’ve thought I’d be saying this about a man who barely speaks — the real magic here is LaBelle’s Michaels. Live from New York, it’s Lorne!

Justin Timberlake is nearing a resolution in his driving while intoxicated case, months after he was arrested in the Hamptons in June.

The “Can’t Stop the Feeling” and “Mirrors” pop star is expected to enter a plea during a Friday hearing where he is set to appear in-person at New York’s Sag Harbour Court, the Suffolk County District Attorney’s Office confirmed to The Times. The singer, 43, agreed to plead guilty to a less serious offense than his original driving while intoxicated charge, the Associated Press reported.

Timberlake’s attorney Edward Burke Jr. did not comment to The Times.

The 10-time Grammy Award winner was arraigned June 18 in Sag Harbor Village Justice Court, on the eastern end of Long Island. The musician allegedly failed to stop at a stop sign and struggled to stay in his lane while driving, the Sag Harbor Police Department said. He pleaded not guilty.

Police described Timberlake during the arrest as having “bloodshot and glassy” eyes with a “strong odor of an alcoholic beverage” on his breath, according to court papers obtained by The Times. Police said the singer also had slowed speech and performed poorly on sobriety tests.

Timberlake, amid his Forget Tomorrow World Tour, was released on his own recognizance.

A month after his arrest, lawyer Burke denied his client was intoxicated when he was stopped and alleged there were errors with officials’ arrest documents. In response, a spokesperson for the district attorney told AP, “We stand ready to litigate the underlying facts of this case in court, rather than in the press.”

Days after his arrest, the former ‘N Sync frontman got candid with fans at a Chicago concert, telling them “it’s been a tough week.”

“Nothing can change this moment right now,” the singer said in June. “I know sometimes I’m hard to love, but you keep on loving me and I love you right back. Thank you so much.”

Timberlake continues his Forget Tomorrow tour later this month with a stop at New Jersey’s Prudential Center. He is slated to play shows in Toronto, Detroit, Orlando and Atlanta, among other cities, before the end of the year.

Times staff writer Nardine Saad contributed to this report.