Final Rating: 4/5
A famous aspect of the cuckoo bird is brood parasitism, which is found in all members of the Cuculidae family. Brood parasitism refers to a habit of the cuckoo to lay her eggs in the nests of other bird species. In this way, the survival of cuckoos is at least partially dependent on protection from other species, knowingly or not, who come to treat cuckoo hatchlings as their own.
The idea of brood parasitism lies at the core of Tilmann Singer’s sophomore feature Cuckoo. A sci-fi horror drawing from the likes of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Get Out, and Ex Machina, Cuckoo’s tense atmosphere and commitment to its themes make it one of the most unnerving films of the year.
Cuckoo follows Gretchen (Hunter Schafer), an American teen who moves to the Bavarian Alps with her father Luis (Marton Csokas), stepmother Beth (Jessica Henwick), and young stepsister Alma (Mila Lieu). Gretchen’s parents have been contracted by local entrepreneur Herr König (Dan Stevens) to renovate his resort, Alpschatten, where Luis and Beth had their honeymoon eight years prior, and nine months before Alma was born.
To keep busy, Gretchen accepts a job working reception for König’s resort. From her first night on the job Gretchen encounters a mysterious screaming woman who appears on the premises after hours, but goes completely unacknowledged by König or any of the other locals, save for one ex-police officer, Henry (Jan Bluthart).
From the outset, themes of invasion and imitation are at the forefront. Gretchen only recently reunited with her father; though unquestionably his daughter, she nevertheless feels like an intruder in his new family. His new family, too, can be seen as intruding on any existing relationship Luis has with Gretchen. And of course, as English-speakers immigrating to the German-Italian border, the whole family are intruders in an unfamiliar land.
Like the cuckoo, each intruder is welcomed into their new environment by those entrenched within it: Gretchen’s new family treats her as family, however Gretchen can’t quite shake the feeling that she is an outsider. König, too, is welcoming. But like the cuckoo, the survival of each intruder depends on the protection of their host, and Cuckoo explores the conditions of that protection in each of its relationships. Like a home invasion movie turned inside out, the “invaders” are victims of circumstance, while the actual danger comes from the home they’ve just invaded.
Stevens, sporting a pitch-perfect German accent, is transcendent as the endlessly charismatic König. Rich and popular with the locals, König maintains an uneventful but busy life as a business owner. He likes birds, is good with kids, and is a talented woodwind player. But on occasion, his demeanor will switch on a dime, turning deathly serious whenever something disturbs his routine.
Stevens handles tone shifts seamlessly, at once charming and menacing. Singer’s writing shines through in Stevens’ tantalizing delivery, placing power dynamics front-and-center over several unforgettable monologues, with subtle but powerful interactions with the rest of the cast, especially Schafer and Bluthart.
As the rebellious teen at the heart of the film, Schafer is perfectly cast as Gretchen. Gretchen’s refusal to obey even one rule constantly puts her afoul of her hosts’ protection, right where the action is. Before the twenty-minute mark, Gretchen has been attacked, and before the end of the film she’s run away from home no less than three times and is directly responsible for the complete unraveling of a bizarre conspiracy.
The edge Schafer brings to Gretchen makes her a force to be reckoned with. An electric performer, Schafer would steal every scene she’s in if she didn’t have such great onscreen chemistry with the rest of the cast. Her scenes with Stevens are among the best dialogue in a horror film this year, and she consistently elevates her scene partners in moments with the rest of the cast. The care she brings to the relationship between Gretchen and her stepsister Alma especially stands out to hammer home a more hopeful theme of found family.
It’s remarkable how much Singer is able to draw from the general theme represented by the cuckoo’s unique nesting habits. Cuckoo serves as smart commentary on power dynamics between men and women, locals and transplants, biological and chosen family. As a director, Singer gives his characters plenty to work with, and lets scenes breathe as long as they need for the themes to sink in. It’s brilliantly paced, starting slow but building such an eerie world it’s impossible to look away.
Thank you to Entract Films for the screener.
