Tilman Singer’s latest horror film blends psychological terror with wry humor, featuring a standout performance by Hunter Schafer
By James Verniere/Boston Movie News
From the mind of Leipzig-born writer-director Tilman Singer (“Luz”) comes Neon’s latest “Cuckoo,” and seldom has a mad movie had such a suitable name. “Cuckoo” takes its name from both bird and state of mind. It’s a genuine call of the wild (How weird is it that “cuckoo” and “batty” are fauna synonyms?). Hunter Schafer of TV’s “Euphoria” is the film’s protagonist, a wounded 17-year-old American named Gretchen, who is unhappily on a trip in the Bavarian Alps with her divorced father Luis (always welcome Marton Csokas), his new-ish wife Beth (the gifted Jessica Henwick) and their young, mute daughter Alma (a terrific Mila Lieu). The four of them are staying at the resort in the mountains, near the treeline, where we earlier see a tall, young woman run into the dark woods, seemingly in response to a noise emanating from there. It’s quite the opening gambit in a story that might have sprung from the realm of aptly-named Englishman Algernon Blackwood.
Greeting the family at the resort is the owner and Luis’ boss, Herr Konig. Played by an inspired Dan Stevens, who is fluent in German, as he demonstrated in Maria Schrader’s “I’m Your Man” (2021), Konig is a total creep. The opening dialogue mixes English and subtitled German in clever ways. Konig notably welcomes the not-quite-nuclear family to his “nest.” Gretchen leaves messages for her mother and yearns to go back to the States. Then, something very strange happens in her room. She hears a paralyzing sound from outside, a sound that causes Alma to have a seizure.
As it happens, Herr Konig is also the head of a nearby Chronic Disease Treatment Center. Konig convinces Gretchen to work at the resort as a receptionist, where the young woman sees two separate guests vomit in the lobby, something that does not rattle her coworker Trixie (Greta Fernandez). Although Konig offers her a ride in his Land Rover, Gretchen insists on riding her bicycle to her guest house, and on one such outing, she is chased by something of which nightmares are made.
Singer has both a keen sense of what is scary to look at (deep, dark woods, the heights, a banister, Schafer’s terrified face) and a wry sense of humor. Stevens makes good use of jokes concerning correct German pronunciation and seems to be channeling Fritz Lang’s criminal madman, Dr. Mabuse, and having a ball. “Cuckoo” is a queasy combination of nature horror in the vein of “The Birds” (1963) and, more recently, Ari Aster’s “Midsommar” and a good, old mad scientist yarn. It’s a bit of nonsense, of course, and near the end, there’s a suggestion that Singer cut a subplot involving Konig’s coworkers, not very, uh, surgically. Still, “Cuckoo” had me very frightened at the sight of a twitching ear.
As the butterfly knife-wielding hero of the piece, Schafer, whose fluidity can be counted as one of the film’s best special effects, gets you on her side even though she doesn’t crack a smile for the first half hour. Her haircut is designed to keep her locks annoyingly in her face as if Gretchen is playing peekaboo with the world (she is). A brief encounter with a flirty, butch resort guest named Ed (Astrid Berges-Frisby) tantalizingly suggests an all-female “Wuthering Heights.” Cue Kate Bush.
Singer’s work will remind viewers of the two Davids: Lynch and Cronenberg. As a policeman with a grudge against Konig and who is this film’s bloody Energizer Bunny, Jan Bluthardt (“Luz”) is fun. Schafer gamely plays the second half of the film with her arm in a sling and a bandage around her head. The animal cry we hear causes time to stop and repeat itself, an idea that is this close to half-baked. Neon (“Immaculate,” “Infinity Pool,” It Lives Inside,” “Bad Hair”), which also has the indie hit “Longlegs” in current release, is on a horror film tear. Big Bird never scared me like this.
‘Cuckoo’
Rating: R, violence, profanity, teen drug use, disturbing images.
Cast: Hunter Schafer, Marton Csokas, Jessica Henwick, Dan Stevens
Director-writer: Tilman Singer
Running time: 1 hour, 42 minutes
Where to Watch: Coolidge Corner Theater
Grade: B+
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