For its first two acts, Cuckoo is like a psych ward patient who’s been refused their meds. It’s frightening, strange, confused and unpredictable. The film finds a bit too much clarity heading into its lacklustre finale, but this is still a head-trip worth enduring.
Think “A Cure For Wellness” meets “The Shining”, and you’ve got a good idea of the vibe this film is aiming for. Atmospherically, it does a good job at making you feel isolated at the retreat where it’s set. Somewhere in the German Alps, the small resort village seems almost lost in time, paring retro decor with hints of modern aesthetic. The editing will play tricks on your mind, distorting an already intentionally hazy narrative even further.
That haziness works in the film’s favour and to its detriment, as the conclusion doesn’t totally pay off on the intriguing ideas. On one hand, it kept me guessing, and trying to sort things out before the eventual reveal. The reveal itself isn’t bad, but it’s very blunt in the way it’s spelled out for the audience. For so much of the runtime, I was on board with being a little lost, but instead of things gradually falling into place, they’re clunkily fed to the audience through exposition.
Hunter Schafer gives a strong performance, really selling her character’s fear and confusion. As things escalate, so does her anxiety, pushing her increasingly further into a mental tailspin. Dan Stevens hams it up as the resort manager, somehow walking the line between menacing and cartoonish. I wish there were more scenes between these two, because together they create a real sense of mistrust and unease.
Cuckoo sets up an intriguing mystery and creates an ominous atmosphere, but the execution of its payoff leaves a lot to be desired. Nevertheless, Hunter Schafer anchors this trippy endeavour with great screen presence worthy of your time.
3/5