‘Cuckoo’ Movie Review: Hunter Schafer Stars in a Grab-Bag Horror Flick
While Cuckoo begins with promise, it slowly loses steam and becomes a disinteresting grab-bag of infinitely better productions.
Tilman Singer’s Cuckoo, which had its Canadian premiere at the Fantasia International Film Festival, impresses immediately with its striking visual style and exacting cuts. As it introduces audiences to Gretchen (Hunter Schafer), as she moves in the German Alps with her father (Marton Csokas, always an amazing screen presence) and stepmother (Jessica Henwick), there’s a palpable sense of tension that becomes immediately attractive to viewers of supernatural thrillers.
And when the first ‘supernatural’ event begins to occur, with a close-up shot of an individual’s throat acting as the leitmotiv for the ‘cuckoo’ sound, as time and space begin to distort, it’s hard not to take your eyes away from the screen, even if the visual and aural presentation of the sound is incredibly disconcerting. Yet, as it begins to pull away and showcase exactly the cause of these strange events, the movie falters and, unfortunately, never recovers, even if it maintains a playful sense throughout.
It’s best to go into any movie (but especially NEON horror films) as blind as a bat. It’s also why Cuckoo compels from the start because we have no idea how the story will unfold. We’re immediately stricken by the presence of Dan Stevens as Herr König, the alp resort’s manager, who seems to be far more sinister than he showcases. As with his incredible turns in Adam Wingard’s Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire and Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett’s Abigail, Stevens has seemingly found a niche in playing off-kilter characters that delve further into madness as the film progresses.
In that regard, he succeeds incredibly well in giving Herr König the demeanor necessary to raise up the tension on screen, even if it can often appear humorous. With splashes of Christoph Waltz and Marc Labrèche, Stevens gives us another portrayal to remember, even if we can see how he will evolve a mile away. He’s arguably the best part of the whole thing, as König’s modus operandi is always secretive. Why is he doing what he’s doing? Of course, there’s a certain monetary advantage, but beyond that, why? The smartest part about Singer’s script is that it doesn’t give us the answers, let alone give us clues in one direction or the other.
König is like that because he’s like that. He’ll always be like that; no new protagonist will ever change him. This type of character work is rarely seen nowadays, and it’s always a thrill when an actor more than understands the assignment he’s been given. The same can also be said for Schafer, in her first lead role, who commands the screen as soon as it opens. As Singer maintains a sense of play during his film, some of the biggest moments of Cuckoo occur through the use of comedy.
Having worked with filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos in Kinds of Kindness, Schafer has a great sense of deadpan humor and knows exactly when to unleash it for it to be effective. It’s used sparingly, but it’s also why it works so well. The same, unfortunately, can’t be said for the arc she goes through. It’s not the actor’s fault, but rather the screenplay’s. From the moment Cuckoo begins, Singer ensures Gretchen has as much agency as possible before anything occurs.
But as the movie unravels its twists and turns, Gretchen unfortunately loses her agency. She only regains it in the final moment, through a gun shootout worthy of a John Woo movie that comes out of nowhere and drastically changes Cuckoo’s tone. This is also indicative of how the movie has no idea how to shift its direction properly in a meaningful way, as it attempts to pull back the curtain but never gives the audience the chance to understand exactly what’s going on.
Of course, it’s intentional for Singer to leave many plot threads unresolved and make the audience attempt to understand what’s unfolding in front of them (he even has Stevens break the fourth wall in a moment so uncanny it almost feels like you’re watching Deadpool). But even with such flashy style, an overreliance on quick cuts, and an overpowering sound design, Cuckoo can only enthrall in small doses because no one can grasp the full picture.
Its inspiration also seems recycled from a bunch of horror movies that treat the same subject with far better care than whatever the hell is going on in Cuckoo. It’s also unfortunate that pinpointing specific movies and references will reveal the bulk of the movie, which is better to discover on your own. One thing’s certain: no one will be indifferent to the film. You’ll either love or hate it. There’s no in-between.
While this writer can certainly appreciate Cuckoo’s ambitions and presentation as another unique horror film in the independent sphere. But this movie has really been done before, and done in a far better and more original fashion than how Singer treats it here.