Cuckoo, 2024.
Written and Directed by Tillman Singer.
Starring Hunter Schafer, Dan Stevens, Jessica Henwick, Marton Csokas, Mila Lieu, Greta Fernández, Astrid Bergès-Frisbey, Proschat Madani, Kalin Morrow, Jan Bluthardt, Lesley Jennifer Higl, and Sydney Lafaire.
SYNOPSIS:
After reluctantly moving to the German Alps with her father and his new family, Gretchen discovers that their new town hides sinister secrets, as she’s plagued by strange noises and frightening visions of a woman pursuing her.
Writer/director Tilman Singer has made an intentionally confusing horror feature (sometimes in the abstract sense and also logic), and one that is refreshing here by the aforementioned insanity regarding the revelations of what is happening and why.
Cuckoo also never slows down past a certain point, meaning that medical researcher and nature preservationist Mr. König (Dan Stevens giving another performance on a separate wavelength entirely, chewing the scenery as one would expect a character obsessed with birds for nefarious purposes would be) explains his motive during a shootout, as this experience also occasionally crosses over into the action genre. The film is impressive, considering that once one believes it has reached the apex of its weirdness, it only gets, well, weirder with more compelling stakes alongside the standard but effective protagonist character arc.
That would be Hunter Schafer’s grieving 17-year-old daughter Gretchen, handed the cliché of ringing her dead mother to hear her voice in the recorded “leave a message after the beep” response as a coping mechanism. She has relocated to live with her estranged father, Luis (Marton Csokas), alongside his new partner Beth (Jessica Henwick) and their eight-year-old daughter Alma (Mila Lieu), a family moving to the Bavarian Alps since the patriarch has a gig assisting Mr. König with schematics for a new resort. Considering that Alma starts having intense seizures, and there is a nearby medical research center run by Dr. Bonomo (Proschat Madani) that immediately appears fishy, it doesn’t take much to deduce that the family hasn’t been summoned here with good intentions.
Nevertheless, the angsty Gretchen, who is contemplating stealing her father’s money to return to her mother’s home, is given a front desk job at the already-established resort, where, suspiciously, no one is allowed to work at night. This entire location has the feeling of something eerie and abandoned despite the supposed positive reputation of the area. It’s not long before Gretchen finds herself there after hours, where one individual shows up vomiting, leading to a sequence being chased by a hooded, bird-like freaking woman with unspecified déjà vu control (played by Kalin Morrow, effectively creepy) that concludes with the teenager hitting her head, but safe and awaiting the arrival of the police.
Will anyone believe what happened, or will they think she is a cuckoo? You can probably guess the answer to that question, although a private detective named Henry (Jan Bluthardt) arrives with a tragic story to tell and a reason to buy into Gretchen’s wild night.
Tillman Singer is generally aware of how to enhance a moment’s suspense through cinematography (partnered here with Paul Faltz) and unnerving sound design. The bonkers plot, which somehow takes the recent trend of commenting on men doing horrible things to women’s bodies and makes it somehow more grotesque, and craftsmanship elevate the more familiar themes of sibling squabbling, angst, and, of course, family (you will hear the phrase “leaving the nest” what feels like 100 times to ensure all the metaphors click.)
With that said, there is also a lot going on in Cuckoo, including an unrelated backstory, overcomplicating the plot. However, as an excuse to showcase Hunter Schafer in survival mode turned nest-protector (see, now I’m working in the metaphors!) or Dan Stevens delivering another wacky turn as if he is in an entirely different movie from everyone else, or to overwhelm an audience with gross twists and crazy chaos, it’s passable. Some stronger focus and characterization (rather than people who feel defined solely by the metaphors) in play would have been preferable. That’s a roundabout way of saying I’m not cuckoo for Cuckoo, even if there are some worthwhile elements worth checking the film out for. It is certainly cuckoo.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
