CUCKOO – Review by Rachel West
In his latest horror, writer-director Tilman Singer embraces the weird, delivering a commendable if not fully comprehendible story in which women and motherhood play a central theme.
Taking inspiration from the natural world and the cuckoo bird, Cuckoo offers up an arthouse blend of body horror, Giallo inspirations, and a sonic nightmarescape that may not be fully successful, it is a wildly ambitious film that will prove to be polarizing.
Seventeen year old Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) is a moody teen who has reluctantly been forced to move in with her father Luis (Marton Csókás), his wife Beth (Jessica Henwick), and their selectively mute daughter Alma (Mila Leiu) while they prepare to build a new resort in the German Alps. Overseen by Mr. König (Dan Stevens), the cabins and lodge on site seem forgotten to the past. It’s hardly a place a teenager would want to spend her summer, especially with a family she doesn’t quite fit into to. Jumping at König’s offer for a part-time job as a receptionist, Gretchen begins to notice that things are amiss at the resort. An ear-splitting scream radiates from the forest, female guests frequently burst forth with spontaneous bouts of vomiting, and a strange woman with red eyes lurks in the darkness.
Cuckoo is simultaneously a high concept arthouse horror as much as it is a cliche-driven spectacle. Though it relies on a few familiar tropes, the film feels almost too small to contain all of Tilman’s ideas in one narrative. The result of which is side characters and subplots fall by the wayside unsatisfactorily as the main story begins to take shape.
As in many horror films, the main character (usually a woman) is rarely believed when she begins ringing the alarm bells. Cuckoo is no different. Luis and Beth see nothing weird or sinister about König, much to Gretchen’s increasing frustration. For the teen, she becomes a target for bizarre happenings at the resort, the victim of increasingly unnerving and violent accidents that leave her battered and broken. Her half-sister Alma also seems to be affected by the alpine resort, suffering from seizures severe enough to warrant hospital visits and tests.
At times bewildering, there are several leaps in logic here as plotlines fail to line up, explained in exposition or not explained at all. A big deal is made about the family’s dog, only for said dog to never be seen or mentioned again. Some of this weirdness is surely on purpose for Cuckoo largely coasts along on vibes. But it’s Schaefer’s strong lead performance opposite Stevens’ pseudo Bond villain-like König that gives the film a pass.
In her first leading film role, Schaefer plays Gretchen to a Gen-Z tee. She is flustered, confused, bored, enraged, and scared, giving the actress a range to showcase her talents. And its a good thing she is up to the challenge as she is in virtually every scene of Cuckoo. Meanwhile, Stevens looks like he’s having a blast in the role, delivering another off-kilter character following his work in the delightfully surprising Abigail and Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire earlier this year.
Feminine energy and motherhood seep out of Cuckoo. It’s the driving themes of the story and anyone familiar with how select types of female cuckoo birds lay their eggs in the nest of other unsuspecting birds, will put the pieces of Singer’s jumbled puzzle together quickly. No matter if you see the climax coming from a mile away, the film remains one to watch thanks to Schafer.
Cuckoo will remain outside mainstream horror, but is far more accessible than his 2018 effort, Luz. For those willing to go out on a limb and embrace the Euro arthouse aesthetics will likely dig what Tilman is dishing out.
Cuckoo arrives in cinemas August 8.
