‘Cuckoo’ Review
There’s a frantic energy to Tilman Singer’s work that leaves every scene absent of that energy with an unnerving atmosphere. In the way his sophomore feature film, Cuckoo, tends to let questions linger longer than they probably should, Singer wants the unknown to be the tension and the draw. Imbued with imagery that ranges from weird to terrifying, Cuckoo seems designed for those looking for a quick fix of a demented idea taken to an extreme. In that regard, Singer’s film surrounds itself wonderfully with a world that seems too strange to decipher but is alluring enough in its mysteries. The result is an exciting genre exercise that aptly can’t figure out its personality.
There’s a secret that is unsurprisingly strange in Cuckoo, given the ominous presence of Herr König (Dan Stevens) and the weird restrictions he places on the guests of his idyllic resort nestled within the Bavarian Alps. However, no one except for Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) seems to be catching on. When her family moves to the resort to construct their resort nearby, she becomes suspicious of König and his interest in her mute half-sister, Alma (Mila Lieu). That suspicion begins threatening the secrecy that König has maintained for years, leading to the gradual unraveling of the film’s mysteries.
Flavored by some clever editing and visual effects as the resort’s guests find themselves affected by some mysterious force, Cuckoo is an aesthetically creative film that sometimes seems more enamored with its stylistic choices than its thematic intent. Effectively muddling its themes of parenthood and family in exchange for the delightfully sinister machinations of König’s plan, there’s an earnest attempt to provide something fresh and delirious at all costs by Singer. Narratively, he sets up ground rules that ask more questions than they answer, but it’s in the more-than-capable hands of Stevens’ performance and the frequent visual flourishes that keep Cuckoo from running out of steam. These aren’t groundbreaking for either Stevens or Singer, but they combine to form a surreal experience where every action from either intensifies an already suspenseful journey.
Schafer’s performance also strengthens Cuckoo. Her character’s reluctance towards her family’s sudden move to the Alps imbues her performance with angst and a general unease with everything happening around her. Schafer counters the creepy, off-putting aura of the resort with a dry wit and headstrong attitude that keeps the film barreling forward even when it seems like it wants to spend more time playing in its atmosphere. Despite appearing passive toward her surroundings, Gretchen is a character who feels like she has something to prove. This is only accentuated by the ire she receives from her stepmother, Beth (Jessica Henwick), whose attention is squarely on Alma and the help she can receive from König at the resort.
Singer’s screenplay stacks the odds against Gretchen but also fails to nuance her relationships with anyone in the film to any meaningful degree. Primarily notable in the final act, when these relationships play a more integral part in the film's thematic intent, Cuckoo is at its best when it lets Schafer carry the emotional weight of a character pushed outside of her own family and the toll her birth mother’s absence has exacted on her. However, it’s at odds with the final act, which plays more on interpersonal relationships than has been defined in the build-up to it all. It ultimately finds itself more entertaining with an unhinged Stevens performance and a silly but fun reveal of what’s happening in the resort. It’s a final act that lacks the emotional closure it sometimes emphasizes while still capitalizing on the unnerving atmosphere with fast-paced, hysterical genre thrills. Once everything starts falling into place, it doesn’t necessarily make much sense, but it feels exhilarating to witness.
There’s something to be said about a movie that can string you along and still feel thrilling, even if it is an experience devoid of much purpose. Clearly, Singer has something to say, but there’s a struggle to balance his eccentric inclinations with the grounded narrative required to fuse those effectively. For Singer, it feels like they’re opposing attributes with characters that feel like manifestations of the dichotomy. König keeps the film on a tilt towards incoherence, while Gretchen tries to make sense of the irrational and absurd, but neither feels like they marry the two tones into a cohesive personality. Instead, it’s a film at odds with itself, and for better or worse, König’s personality wins out.
