Visiting another country can be an exhilarating and unforgettable experience. The culture, customs, scenery, people, food, and landmarks all offer a rich tapestry of experiences. Millions of us travel abroad each year, whether for relaxation, sightseeing, or something more adventurous. Some even choose to relocate permanently. Yet, for many, the idea of venturing into a foreign, unfamiliar land can be anxiety-inducing. Questions loom large: What if trouble arises? Will language barriers create obstacles? Are there cultural differences that could lead to misunderstandings? And what about potentially dangerous wildlife?

​

Horror films have long tapped into our fears of international travel. John Landis’ An American Werewolf in London (1981) tells the story of a couple of American students who run into trouble on the English moors. Paradise Lost (2006) and The Ruins (2008) reveal dangers lurking in Central and South America. Eli Roth’s Hostel (2005) highlights the perils that await Americans in Europe. Now, with Tilman Singer’s eagerly anticipated Cuckoo, we discover that the seemingly idyllic Bavarian Alps might present threats beyond just treacherous terrain and sheer cliffs.

​

Gretchen (Hunter Schafer), a teenage girl grappling with the recent death of her mother, is uprooted to move to Alpschatten, a quaint resort town nestled in the rural mountains of Germany. Her father and stepmother, both architects, have been relocated there for work and are overseeing the construction of a new hotel. To say Gretchen is miserable is a bit of an understatement. Leaving your home and friends behind after losing a parent is an unimaginable upheaval for most people but for Gretchen, well, she’s got some additional worries on top. Her father and stepmother are consumed by their work, barely noticing her plight, while her young mute stepsister remains a distant and enigmatic presence. The owner of the resort, Herr König (Dan Stevens) also seems a bit eccentric. And why do guests keep throwing up? What is that weird noise that seems to come from deep within the surrounding forest. And why is a strange figure running around in the middle of the night? The answers are as unsettlingly bonkers as you could ever imagine…

​

The year 2024 is proving to be an exciting one for unconventional genre films. Longlegs, directed by Osgood Perkins, The Watchers by Ishana Night Shyamalan, and the anti-slasher In a Violent Nature have all enjoyed significant box office success. These films signal a potential backlash against formulaic studio horror (as seen in Nightswim and Imaginary) and the repetitive cycle of legacy sequels and reboots. However, venturing into new and unconventional territory carries its risks. Some viewers find comfort in familiar formulas and can react negatively to anything that challenges their expectations, while others embrace the unpredictability of auteur-driven horror. As is the case with Cuckoo, a film that lives up to its name in every sense. Cuckoo really is bloody Cuckoo and you’ll either be captivated by its offbeat charm or find it overwhelming in its excess. For those of us who appreciate both extremes, it offers a unique blend of madness and creativity that is sure to leave a lasting impression either way.

​

Cuckoo is a film that demands a certain level of commitment from its audience. If you’re unable or unwilling to engage with its eccentricity, it might come off as a farce. But for those ready to immerse themselves in the ride, the film’s blend of intrigue, genuine horror, and irreverent comedy can be enthralling. The plot is undeniably absurd—completely bananas, even. And as the film gradually reveals its mysteries and showcases its antagonist, it does lose some of its initial allure. It's at its best when its mysteries remain tantalizingly unresolved.That's not saying there aren't some unresolved questions that need answering by the time the credits roll mind you...

​

Most genre fans will likely enjoy the moody intrigue of the first half, but as the film dives deeper into its own weirdness, it may lose some of its audience along the way. Fortunately, Cuckoo benefits from genuine talent both behind and in front of the camera. German director Tilman Singer, whose debut film Luz (2018) showed promise despite its imperfections, has clearly grown with Cuckoo. The writing, while still a bit choppy, is complemented by some stunning visuals. The lush Bavarian landscapes contrast with cold, moody interiors, creating a dreamlike atmosphere that is both disorienting and compelling. Singer also crafts some genuinely creepy scenes, filled with startling imagery.

​

Guiding us through the madness is Hunter Schafer, who plays a character desperately trying to escape the bizarre world she’s been thrust into. Schafer shines as the rebellious lead, delivering a performance reminiscent of Maya Hawke, but with a sharper edge. However, Dan Stevens probably steals the show as her father’s eccentric boss. Stevens revels in offbeat roles, and this is his most delightfully odd performance to date, bringing a camp energy to every scene.

​

His performance captures the essence of Cuckoo—weird, creepy, with a vein of subversive humor running throughout. If that’s your thing, head to your local cinema and check it out. Even if it’s not, it’s still worth watching just to see Stevens play the flute about eleven times...