Cuckoo – Berlinale Review

★★★★

Cuckoo is the giallo-tinged, health-spa-set, hallucinatory monster movie you didn’t know you needed. It’s queer, it’s deranged, it romps along like an early-80s Argento flick… and it gives Dan Stevens his best role since The Guest. I adored it.

Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) is unhappy. Her family (father Marton Csokas, step-mother Jessica Henwick and little half-sister Mila Lieu) have decamped to a mysterious Westphalian health resort, taking her along with them. She’s surly, irritable, depressed, barely wants to get out of the car – in short, a teenager. But as anyone who’s ever seen a horror film will know, she might have good reason for wanting to get the hell out of there.

The resort is overseen by its owner Mr. König (Dan Stevens) – a family friend and a healthcare provider with unclear credentials – who is keen to show off the almost-deserted facilities. The family are interested in copying its design to set up their own spa, in some kind of franchise arrangement, and only Gretchen seems to think this plan is ill-thought through. Her concerns are heightened by the creepy atmosphere, the occasional guest stumbling around and vomiting, and the shrieking sound of a strange woman in the forest. At the same time, a budding romance with receptionist Trixie (Greta Fernandez) may be a reason to stay – or a ticket to escape.

Cuckoo was shot on 35mm film, adding an eerie, atmospheric quality to its visual storytelling. Its vibes and setting reminded me of something in between Phenomena and A Cure For Wellness.

Tilman has served up a mix of horror, mystery, and thriller elements that will be catnip to fans of gonzo genre cinema. It’s also camp as hell when it wants to be, teetering on the edge of B-movie pulp, but remaining remarkably deadpan as the ludicrous plot is gradually revealed. The spectre of ‘elevated horror’ initially hangs over the film, but it gradually sheds that disguise to reveal an oddball romp. If you loved Dan Stevens’s vaguely psychotic performance in The Guest, imagine him doing that but with a German accent, all while insisting that his spa is actually perfectly normal, and that you definitely shouldn’t worry about all the seizures, time-slips, vomiting, or the feral woman running about. Between this and the upcoming Abigail, it looks like Dan Stevens has decided to lean into his campy batshit horror era.

Cuckoo has faced some critique regarding its narrative clarity, but as far as I’m concerned all the explanations that are needed are given – and in any case its strengths lie in its potent atmosphere, inventive use of genre conventions, big performance swings, batshit plot developments, impeccable vibes and, most importantly, its unapologetic boldness. In short, Cuckoo is queer, it’s deranged, it romps along like an early-80s Argento flick, and it will keep you on the edge of your seat, never knowing which way it’s going until the very last shot. I adored it. 

Hunter Schafer is a killer final girl, Dan Stevens is a magnificent weirdo, and from the cuckoo’s first call to the last unsettling frame, this film slaps.

Cuckoo played at the Berlinale, and is released in cinemas in the US on 3 May, and in the UK on 17 May.