Hunter Schafer in Cuckoo (Neon)

The best kind of horror-thrillers are the ones that put you on your toes while keeping the story and the ominous threat easy to understand. Cuckoo certainly knows how to do the former, but it takes the opposite approach with the latter, rendering its goals as bizarre as they are convoluted.

Clearly, Cuckoo is going for a riff on a familiar horror setting: the creepy house/facility in the middle of nowhere. In this case, the location is a getaway resort located deep in the Bavarian Alps, and Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) would prefer to be anywhere but on vacation. Still mourning the death of her mother, Gretchen is forced to join her father, Luis (Marton Csokas); stepmom, Beth (Jessica Henwick); and mute half-sister Alma (Mila Lieu) on the trip: The parents have been tasked with redesigning the resort, supposedly as a favor to its owner Mr. König (Dan Stevens). But there’s just so much about him beyond the thick German accent that immediately sets off red flags about this place.

At first, König keeps Gretchen occupied by giving her a receptionist job at the resort, even if she’d prefer to twirl her butterfly knife and occasionally hook up with a hot female guest. However, things quickly turn unnatural. One guest spontaneously vomits on the premises, and a confrontation with Alma results in Gretchen being injured by some kind of telekinetic force, foreshadowed by a mysterious time loop phenomenon affecting her before the power activates. Then, when riding her bike home at night, she’s attacked by a mysterious woman (Kalin Marrow) who exhibits telekinetic powers and patrols the woods surrounding the resort and nearby hospital in a trench coat and goggles. But the assault is too fantastical for her father to believe, and her relationship with Luis—strained by Gretchen’s resentment toward his absence and new family—leaves Gretchen more isolated than ever. Aside from a cop (Jan Bluthardt) investigating the hooded woman and recent disappearances at the resort, it’s up to Gretchen to figure out what the hell is going on in the Alps.

The best parts of Cuckoo are where director Tilman Singer (making his sophomore debut after 2018’s Luz) taps into a sense of unease that comes from stumbling into something you know nothing about. This is felt the most in how he teases the presence of the hooded woman, who traps victims within a time loop that only lasts a few seconds and leaves them helpless as she then appears before them. These scenes are an effective means of distorting Cuckoo’s reality. While they can become routine after a few similar set pieces, the accompanying musical score amplifies the woman’s eeriness. And by extension, her connection to König.

Unfortunately, when Cuckoo tries folding these moments into the plot, the results are more jumbled. Aside from Gretchen and König, the film doesn’t seem interested in doing much with its supporting cast besides Alma, let alone make them aware of the corrupt scientific goals of König and his associates. And Gretchen is certainly put through the wringer during her investigation, enduring countless injuries to the point she spends much of the second half in an arm cast. If you wanted to see her relationships with Luis and Beth thaw over time in conjunction with these discoveries, you’ll be disappointed.

From a visual perspective, Cuckoo wants to link Gretchen’s personal grief to the horrifying secrets she uncovers. When it succeeds, it’s usually thanks to Schafer, whose performance is at once sympathetic, bitter, humorous, and even a little self-aware—she straight-up calls König out for his blatantly villainous line delivery. Again, the film reiterates that she’s physically and emotionally vulnerable. Some of the more tragic moments involve Gretchen calling her deceased mom just to hear her voice on the answering machine. But there’s so much happening in this movie that when Singer drops his big reveal, it can’t help but get lost in the commotion. Which, for a world that already feels off, doesn’t help the narrative find cohesion until late in the game.

Cuckoo certainly earns its fear factor moments when the audio-visual elements are all viewers have to rely on to feel scared. It only needed to make a bit more sense. Unsettling visuals aside, Cuckoo is far too crazy complex than it needed to be.