Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) reluctantly travels with her father, Luis (Marton Csokas), her stepmother Beth (Jessica Henwick), and stepsister Alma (Mila Lieu) to Austria after her biological mother passes away. The family reconnects with Herr König (Dan Stevens) who runs the motel where Luis and Beth spent their honeymoon and he offers Gretchen a job working the desk.  Leaving work late one night, Gretchen is chased by a mysterious figure (Kalin Morrow) as she bikes home.  Injured from the chase, no one believes her when she tells her story, but when the figure shows up again and again, and in addition, Alma begins to suffer from seizures, retired police officer Henry (Jan Bluthardt) takes a special interest in Gretchen’s story and tries to lure the creature to capture and kill it. 

Tilman Singer writes and directs Cuckoo, a thriller that debuted at the Berlinale ahead of its theatrical release from Neon.  At 102 minutes, the film presents a brutal, no-holds-bar distillation of the slasher film, but the tight cast breaks from the traditional pick ‘em off structure creating a much more violent and menacing experience while allowing Schafer to shine as a refreshing take on the final girl arc.  The queer themes at play in the film – and notably not turning the monster into a representation of queer identity – earned the film a nomination for the Teddy Award at the festival, along with many other accolades across the various additional festivals in which it was showcased. 

After an unsettling cold open that introduces us to Jonas Lux’s purposefully abrasive sound design, the film transitions to the narrative proper, conjuring up memories of The Shining (1980) in that we follow the family in their car through the winding woods to a rustic hotel. Not nearly as elegant as the Overlook, this quaint Bavarian motel makes for a great setting, though through the turns of the narrative, only the first half of the film is set here.  The opening gambit also introduces us the the language of the scares which Singer will orchestrate and the editing team comprised of Terel Gibson and Philipp Thomas assemble.  It is a frightening moment when Grethen, in a dungey restroom stall, has someone rattle the door with incredible force before going on to occupy the vacant stall next to her.  Leaving the restroom, Gretchen quickly angles her view beneath the door to find it empty and the whole affair, while unsettling, is written off as a prank. We learn quickly that no one trusts Gretchen’s account no matter how well-founded. 

Beyond the creative turns of the narrative, the editing of Cuckoo is what really lifts the film into some intriguing territory.  The best scare of the film so comes quite early as the first act winds down into the second.  Gretchen is biking home from the hotel after covering the night shift and Paul Fltz’s camera hangs just ahead of her, close in on her face, as we hear the music from her headphones and watch the shadowy forest zip past her.  From the corner of the frame far behind her, we almost think we see a figure run across the road.  The camera continues to lead Gretchen and slowly turns to capture her profile.  This time, we very clearly see a figure running alongside her until suddenly the figure is in front of her and emits a bloodcurdling screech which was heard in the cold opening. 

In the second act, Gretchen is fighting for someone to believe her about the incident which results in a large gash on her head after crashing into the hospital glass doors. She finds that someone in Ed (Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey), a guest at the hotel who offers her a chance to escape.  After taking the money from the till, the two depart heading west but the creature appears on the road, causing Ed to swerve the vehicle and crash into a ditch.  Approaching the accident, the creature rips Ed from the car and is shot by Henry before it can grab Gretchen, too. 

During the second act, we learn much more about the creature as Gretchen and Henry compare notes and begin to lay a plan to capture and kill it.  It is a messy explanation, especially when the events of the third act are brought into play, but it is not so off the wall that it cannot be accepted at the time.  Basically, the creature is a mother seeking a host for her next child in the same way that a cuckoo bird lays its eggs in the nest of another species.  After the bird hatches, it is raised alongside the others, though it uses far more resources and will grow much larger than its hosts and soon overtakes the nest.  As with many horror films, the suspense is best when the creature is shielded by shadow, so what worked so well in this creature’s introduction does begin to fade as the film begins to get more and more intimate with her.  Thankfully, the shot composition and the editing – in addition to Singer’s work on the page – helps to keep us invested in the mystery even when we see the creature in full and realize she is styled more strangely than something scary. 

It is in the third act that Singer really begins to tease out this idea and the film begins to strain under the extra weight of concept.  König has been experimenting with these creatures and is trying to preserve their species and force them to breed.  The hotel, specifically a separate pink cabin that serves as the Honeymoon suite and is called “The Love Nest,” is all part of this ongoing preservation effort.  It is an interesting development, but it never fully justifies itself.  König is too sinister to be doing all of this just because, but we are never made privy to the reason why he is looking to promote and populate the human species with these parasites.  He can summon them with a flute, but they are still rather wild and untrained.  Without a little more understanding of his motivation, the film narratively ends rather dully which is a shame given all of the great material that preceded its conclusion.  There is, however, much like the stakeout in act two, a great scene towards the very end as Gretchen works to break Alma out from the hospital.  It is thrilling, there is a real sense of danger as by this point all allegiances have been suspended, and it is well covered by the camera in an innovative way that keeps us slightly disoriented but never lost. 

Cuckoo starts strong, and while the finish is not at that same high level, it is never uninteresting.  Singer packs the film with a fully realized world of his twisted imagining and the cast all hit their mark in what could have been an incredibly beguiling tale to the point of aversion, but instead tows the line of being a deep-steeped mystery. Not quite supernatural, not quite science fiction, not quite a mystery – yet all of those things at once –  Cuckoo is a fiercely original idea that will unsettle and unnerve audiences as the creatures call rattles them to their core. It is a breath of fresh air and heralds Singer as a rising voice in horror who understands the conventions and is not afraid to bend the rules and twist the outcomes. As a sophomore feature, the film is a touch overindulgent in how wide it tries to take this story, but as Singer continues his career, he is bound to become only more focused is his storytelling.