'Cuckoo' review: Intriguing, but hopelessly muddled 'elevated horror' film

The Alpschatten Resort in “Cuckoo” is a stunner, a rustic-modernist getaway perched in the German Alps. You can almost feel the crispness in the air as 17-year-old Gretchen, played by Hunter Schafer, reluctantly arrives with her family. The area could be a few thousand feet above sea level; is that why some visitors wander around in a daze and vomit uncontrollably?

It's one of Gretchen’s first clues that something is amiss. Here are a few others: The resort’s owner, Herr König (Dan Stevens), is a handsy creep with cold blue eyes. Terrifying screams occasionally come from the lush forest. Time has a weird way of repeating itself in ever-shortening bursts. Oh, and there’s a woman in a headscarf who runs around killing people.

“Cuckoo” is the latest example of “elevated horror” – a vague term used to distance artful films like Ari Aster’s “Midsommar” and Jordan Peele’s “Get Out” from simple slasher flicks like “Friday the 13th.” German writer-director Tilman Singer made his contribution with “Luz,” an art-house title from 2019. His “Cuckoo” is heading straight for the multiplex, but viewers there might find it too elevated for its own good.

“Cuckoo” is the rare film that could have used a little dumbing down. It has too many ideas, and great difficulty connecting them. Initially, we’re hooked in by Schafer’s headstrong Gretchen, who feels like a hostage to her widowed dad (Marton Csókás), his new wife (Jessica Henwick) and their mute little daughter, Alma (Mila Lieu). Each time Gretchen tries to escape the resort, she mysteriously winds up back where she started. “I wouldn’t want to get hurt even more,” Herr König warns, “as if I were stuck in a loop.”

Quickly, though, “Cuckoo” loses its bearings. There’s much talk of the titular bird, which tricks others into raising its offspring. There’s an intrepid cop (Jan Bluthardt as Henry) who’s posing as a guest. There’s a gloomy hospital, run by the matronly Dr. Bonomo (Proschat Madani). Sound becomes the enemy; Gretchen spends much of the climax wearing protective headphones. People scratch their legs before dying, a detail the film never even attempts to explain.

Singer is a resourceful filmmaker; he gets a lot of mileage from moody lighting, creative camerawork and shadow play. But the story, and often the characters’ erratic behavior, is simply impossible to fathom. Trying to piece it all together will make you go – well, you know.

By Rafer Guzmán

rafer.guzman@newsday.com@raferguzman