Cuckoo
Written and directed by Tilman Singer
Stars Hunter Schafer, Dan Stevens, Jan Bluthardt
Running Time 1 hour, 42 minutes
MPAA rated R for violence, bloody images, language and brief teen drug use
by "Doc" Hunter Bush, contributor and podcast czar
In my day-to-day life, I am somewhat unplugged from knowing which films people may or may not be excited for, aside from the folks crowing loudest about the next big franchise thing. I know a few people personally who are looking forward to checking out Cuckoo, the sophomore feature film from German director Tilman Singer, but are you, in the wider world, psyched for this one?
Well, you better get psyched!
With Cuckoo, Singer's follow up to 2018's Luz, he has crafted a monster movie in the tradition of the Universal Monsters classics and in doing so, has firmly established himself as a unique and compelling creative voice within the horror genre. This ain't hyperbole, turkey! Cuckoo has all the Universal Monsters earmarks right out of the gate: a family moving to an insular area because step-mom and dad have taken a new career in a new town, there's some fringe science, and a monstrous presence that makes itself known with eerie calls and tones coming from the woods.
Disclaimer: in an effort to avoid spoilers, I will only be referring to the monstrous presence at the center of Cuckoo as "the woman-thing", a term I coined in my Fantasia Fest preview based entirely on its appearance in the trailer.
Hunter Schafer gives a great performance as Gretchen, who would much rather be with her mother in the U.S. than with her dad, her step-mom, and her mute step-sister in the Alps. She's not subtle about it either, always hovering somewhere around a 6 (out of 10) on the Simmering Hormonal Teenage Rage scale, on the verge of behaving like a total loon. All she really needs is some money to get a ticket to fly away home. Luckily, Herr König (Dan Stevens) offers her a job running the welcome desk at the local spa and resort, which he owns. Sure, her supervisor Beth (Jessica Henwick) will duck out early for a date, or the occasional guest will suddenly vomit in the lobby, but it's mostly your average, boring customer service job.
The feather in Tilman Singer's cap is how well he captures the teenage angst of Gretchen. We feel her frustrations constantly humming beneath the surface, her soul-crushing boredom, her general aimlessness. But before long, she has her first encounter with the woman-thing, at which point you can add feelings of persecution to Gretchen's potent emotional cocktail, because of course almost no one believes her.
Enter Henry (Jan Bluthardt), a sketchy, disheveled cop who seems to be the only person who lends her story any credence, but also definitely seems to have ulterior motives as well. Henry is sniffing around the resort, and around Herr König, but we don't know why exactly. He keeps things pretty mercenary, even while trying to recruit Gretchen into his flock of one.
For his part, Dan Stevens is masterfully cast here. I'll cop to being biased and in the pocket for Stevens anyway (I just enjoy the man's work), but his performance as the serene, flute playing philanthropist is such an understated gem. He's obviously up to no good, but he goes about it more like a Willy Wonka - who doesn't see why anything he's doing might be unusual - than a scenery chewing cock of the walk, Lex Luthor type.
Lastly, but definitely not leastly, is the woman-thing her/itself. Truly an unsettling creation to add to the latest pantheon of movie monsters - I would offer she/it be placed alongside the wooden man from Damian Mc Carthy's Oddity (another film I strongly recommend) - and one that I can imagine hatching many nightmares. The look, a hybrid of familiar and uncanny, the jumpy movements, the weaponized sound design; it all works excellently.
Famously, cuckoos are known for leaving their eggs in the nests of other birds to be raised by them, and to exhaust the greater portion of its nestlings' provisions. Not as an act of malice, but just as a function of their biology. Cuckoo, above all, is a film about men who think that they know best. The kind of men who say - and importantly, believe - that they're doing what's best for others. Dangerous allies. The true cuckoos of the film.
