Cuckoo (2024) Film Review – A Masterclass in Insanity

Posted on by Liz Griffiths

In a genre that is plagued by tired tropes and formulaic storylines, Tilman Singer’s 2024 horror masterpiece Cuckoo stands out as a visually stunning, fantastically portrayed piece of art. With its meticulous cinematography, vibrant colour palette, and evocative musical score, Cuckoo takes what could be a somewhat confusing and hard-to-get-into story and tells it masterfully and beautifully in a way that sucks the audience right into its world. Shot on 35mm film using angles and colours that evoke an almost vintage feel, the movie showcases writer and director Tilman Singer’s commitment to creating a rich and immersive experience that lingers long after the credits roll.

Cuckoo follows the sullen and awkward teenage Gretchen as she adjusts to a sudden move from living with her mother in the United States to living with her father and his new wife and daughter in Europe. Reluctant to bond with her younger half-sister and wanting to spend as little time as possible with her father and his wife, Gretchen takes a job at the front desk of their resort where she is quick to notice some of the strange behaviors of the other guests, who seem to become vacant and sickly during their stay, especially at night. But Gretchen’s concern is downplayed by the constant (and borderline aggressive) reassurance of the resort’s manager and the complete indifference of the other desk clerk.

But as things get more and more bizarre, Gretchen begins to experience strange phenomena that aren’t so easily explained away. Full of tropes like the angsty teen, the overly enthusiastic and eccentric weirdo, and the secluded resort, Cuckoo could easily fall into very hackneyed territory. Luckily, a premise that could quickly turn cliche is kept fresh thanks to plot twists no one could see coming and a likeable (although jaded) main character, brilliantly portrayed by Hunter Schafer. Overall, it’s hard to find fault with the story of this film, which straddles the line between horror and absurdity perfectly.

The film’s cinematography, crafted beautifully by Paul Faltz, is nothing short of breathtaking. Each scene is thoughtfully composed, highlighting the picturesque yet unsettling remote German resort nestled in the Alps. The use of a shockingly vibrant colour palette gives the resort a sort of tropical ambiance, making the location feel both inviting and menacing. This deliberate color scheme not only enhances the visual appeal but also serves to underscore the film’s themes of alienation and otherness and, against the more muted tones present in Gretchen’s wardrobe, brings to the foreground the sense of disconnect between Gretchen and her surroundings.

While the cinematography is indeed beautiful, I would be remiss to not mention the huge part that sound plays in creating the nightmarish world in Cuckoo. The sound is often quite piercing, creating an atmosphere that keeps viewers on edge in a way that is both chaotic and intentional. The music blends seamlessly with the narrative’s twists and turns, enhancing the tension and amplifying the emotional impact of key scenes and guiding the audience, subtly drawing them in deeper to really feel what Gretchen feels. This blend of sound and imagery ensures that Cuckoo resonates on both a sensory and psychological level, evoking a very visceral sense of fear and empathy.

Singer’s Cuckoo is more than just a movie; it’s a full experience that hits on every level. It’s immersive, innovative, and beautiful in a sickly sort of way that leaves its audience feeling like they just awoke from a nightmare. The film’s cinematography, sound engineering, and storytelling come together flawlessly to create a haunting and unforgettable journey into the bizarre and uncanny. While some may argue that its plot is a bit convoluted, I would argue that it just requires viewers to suspend their belief and allow themselves to be fully drawn into the experience that is Cuckoo. 

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