Cuckoo is Complex and Crazy

3 ½ stars

I can’t stop thinking about Cuckoo. It’s not just trying to put together all the clues that writer/director Tilman Singer (Luz) has scattered throughout the film to explain it all, although that’s probably keeping me awake at night. It’s more just reliving moments from the movie in my mind. Like those shadows creeping up on Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) as she rides her bike down a lonely country road at night. Or the creepy but compelling presence of Herr König (Dan Stevens) hovering over every scene, even the ones he’s not physically in. There’s also that sequence when Gretchen is practicing her bass with her headphones on while her father’s daughter, Alma (Mila Lieu), is standing behind her, having a silent seizure.

Father’s daughter and not sister? ‘Silent’ seizure? Those who’ve seen it understand. Perhaps they, too, have their unforgettable scene to add to the mix. Maybe the chase in the lab? The rest can put a bookmark here and return once you’ve seen Cuckoo. 

The film tells the story of Gretchen (Schafer), a young woman traveling with her family—dad, his wife, and his daughter—to a mountain resort where the parents are helping plan and construct some renovations. Along with being a job site, the resort holds a special place in the adults’ hearts because it is where they honeymooned eight years ago and where their daughter Alma, born mute, was conceived.

They are met at reception by Herr König (Dan Stevens), and although there’s nothing you can expressly point at that screams “weirdo,” there is something creepy about the guy that makes Gretchen (and the audience) uncomfortable. And it’s a feeling that grows the more time Herr König spends on the screen. Stevens, for the most part, coyly plays it close to the vest to keep us guessing if Herr König will be the ultimate cause or the final solution to the happenings at the chalet. Maybe both.

Singer loves to play with his audience that way. Many horror film directors fill their films with jump scares. At best times, they’re earned and add substance to the story. They’re jammed into the movie at their worst to cover up the script’s weakness. Singer has come up with something a little different for Cuckoo. Let’s call them ‘thought scares’. The first time the old lady shows up, for example, it scares the crap out of you, but it also almost immediately gets you thinking of how she fits into the story. You get creeped out at the way guests at the resort randomly puke their guts out, then walk off without any explanation. But you instantly start to try and figure out if vomiting strangers is the key to what’s going on. It’s a visual collage that draws you deeper and deeper into the story. 

As Gretchen, Schafer is the perfect guide to take the audience through Singer’s complex narrative: she’s smart, she’s tough, and she isn’t afraid to call ‘bullshit when she sees it. Not many film protagonists rise to this level of self-awareness, and Schafer raises the bar for future genre final girls.