Gretchen’s new family rides together in their station wagon.
Gretchen, meanwhile, rides in the cab of the moving truck—a symbol of her feelings of isolation.
After her mother died, Gretchen’s divorced father took her into his family. He then moved Gretchen, her stepmother and her stepsister out to Resort Alpschatten in Germany, a getaway owned and operated by a longtime family friend named König.
For Gretchen’s father, König’s hospitality illustrates how he might start his own resort one day. But for Gretchen, the towering mountains only make her feel even more isolated and confined.
To make her feel more at home, König gives Gretchen a job as a receptionist at the resort. It’s all pretty standard stuff—except that König doesn’t want Gretchen staying until 10 p.m. to lock up. The reason? He mumbles something about her only owning a bike, and he’d rather her not get hurt or get lost while riding home in the dark.
But if that were true, it doesn’t explain why the women around the resort keep vomiting. It doesn’t explain the strange screeching noises that cause Gretchen to experience a weird form of déjà vu. It doesn’t explain König’s terrified reaction when he calls the front desk one night only to find her working.
“Gretchen, I want you to lock the doors and wait for me. I’m coming to pick you up, right now!”
Though nearly everyone in this film is quite awful, Det. Henry, an officer investigating the strange happenings, risks his life to help Gretchen. Gretchen and her sister, though relatively indifferent to each other at the start of the film, grow to genuinely care for each other by the movie’s end.
None.
Gretchen is a lesbian. She passionately kisses another woman.
A woman wearing a towel flashes a man her front (we see this happen from behind her). She hopes the two might have sex, but the man declines. Another woman is half-dressed, though we don’t see anything.
We hear a few references to sex and conception.
[Spoiler Warning] We learn late in the film the reason why a lot of women around the resort are vomiting: they’re being targeted by the humanoid creatures—the same ones that König is worried will attack Gretchen. The species confuses its victim into a brief mindless state before inserting its eggs into the woman (which are only ever depicted as clear goop). Then, the next time the woman’s male companion has sex with her, he fertilizes these alien eggs to produce another one of the humanoid creatures, whom they unknowingly raise as their own.
Gretchen survives a car crash that leaves her arm broken and her face inflamed. She also accidentally smashes her head into a glass door, causing profuse bleeding from her forehead. Several people get shot and killed. A man is stabbed. Someone’s throat gets cut, causing blood to spray everywhere.
Gretchen punches a man in the face. Someone is forcefully clapped on both sides of her head.
A child is plagued by seizures. Gretchen receives stitches. We’re told about a woman who choked to death on her vomit.
The film contains many jump scares.
The f-word is used 10 times, and the s-word is heard three times. We hear one instance each of “a–,” “b–ch” and “d–n.” Jesus’ name is used in vain four times.
Characters drink wine and are recommended medicine. Some of them share a joint and smoke cigarettes.
Gretchen’s parents treat her poorly. Someone robs a cash register. People frequently vomit. Gretchen urinates. We hear a crude description of a miscarriage.
Cuckoo feels like a movie that wants to say more than it does.
Themes of belonging, family and worth trace the edges of this thriller but never truly come to fruition. And perhaps it’s for the best that those themes are left as little more than hints. Because when the movie does start to unravel its secrets, well, the story just gets convoluted and over-the-top.
Instead, let’s focus on what is readily apparent: Though not as gory as your average slasher film, we do see a handful of people meet blood-soaked ends. Topics related to sex are directly relevant to the plot. Crude language stains our main character’s birdsong, and a hastily added LGBT romance ruffles feathers, too.
Cuckoo is certainly a little cuckoo. Yet it remains unable to fly due to its poor storyline—a film that becomes noticeably less thrilling when you figure out what’s going on.
Is Cuckoo an original story? Definitely. But that’s no reason to put all your eggs in its basket.
Or any of them, really.
Kennedy Unthank studied journalism at the University of Missouri. He knew he wanted to write for a living when he won a contest for “best fantasy story” while in the 4th grade. What he didn’t know at the time, however, was that he was the only person to submit a story. Regardless, the seed was planted. Kennedy collects and plays board games in his free time, and he loves to talk about biblical apologetics. He thinks the ending of Lost “wasn’t that bad.”
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