Cuckoo

Film company NEON needs to clink their glasses a little, I think. They started out with {Immaculate} earlier this year, and have since followed up with {Longlegs} and now {Cuckoo}, two films with sparse, enigmatic marketing that have been rewarded with both praise and interest among moviegoers. This has ultimately resulted in solid ticket sales and positive reviews.

But specifically for {Cuckoo}, it's a bit of a task to follow {Longlegs}, because even though the two films are quite different thematically, stylistically and mechanically, they come from the same recognisable film company, and in many places there has only been a month between the two premieres. I might as well say right now that {Cuckoo} is not quite as rigorous, thematically grounded and polished as {Longlegs}. It has a more unruly backstory, offers a slightly more uneven build-up and is generally a little harder to get a handle on than Oz Perkins' vicious, brutal and brilliant horror story. But that really, really doesn't mean that {Cuckoo} disappoints or should pass you by.

Hunter Schafer plays Gretchen, who is forced to live with her father after her mother passes away, and with his "new" family of Jessica Henwick's Beth and Mila Lieu's Alma, the four of them head to the German Alps to assist the enigmatic Herr König (played by Dan Stevens in top form) in developing a nature resort. But as always, there's more lurking beneath the surface, and after König insists that Gretchen doesn't cycle home alone at night and that strange noises can be heard at night, it becomes clear that this resort has another, darker function.

Let's cut straight to the chase; this is Schafer and Stevens' movie from beginning to end, and they each deliver masterful performances to say the least, giving the film the flair it needs to carry it through what can at times feel like a slightly muddled plot that struggles to present an easily understood common thread while constructing a wider mythos. While Schafer in particular is worthy of several praises in {Euphoria} and elsewhere, this is a much more physical role that really requires versatility and sheer skill. But from mourning her late mother, to convulsive, intense, classic horror scenarios, she, again alongside Stevens, is the mainstay.

And director Tilman Singer also manages to evoke a rather specific identity through camera movement, 80s aesthetics and colour chemistry (despite the film being set in the present day) and some pretty intense scenes that are enhanced by rock-solid "creature design", as the genre terminology calls it (and without spoiling too much). The result is a movie that offers thematic cohesion between the creepy and the dramatic in a way that {Longlegs} also does, and while it's not nearly as scary or brutal, it has a voice and an effect on you.

This makes it even more disappointing that {Cuckoo} falls into a rather boring and recognisable pitfall. Particularly in the second half of the film, enigmatic mystery is traded for overexposure of central plot structures and a need to consistently, and often constantly, attempt to explain and contextualise what the viewer has wondered about in the first half. The result is that, broadly speaking, you understand what's going on, but at the expense of the oppressive, claustrophobic feeling that only ignorance can give you. In other words, {Cuckoo} loses its grip on its own premise by trying to present it to us on a silver platter.

But thanks to sharp music, sharp direction from Singer and some rock solid performances from Schafer and Stevens, {Cuckoo} overcomes its weaker second half and is another victory for NEON. Their next is a horror from Steven Soderbergh himself, shot entirely in the first person and already garnering rave reviews from various festivals.

Well done, NEON.