Many of the needle drops littered throughout Tilman Singer’s horror flick “Cuckoo,” released in theaters Friday, were written into the script’s first draft in 2019.
But the film’s musical touchstone, a soft rock number that “Euphoria” breakout star Hunter Schafer sings onscreen, didn’t come together until years later.
Schafer leads Singer’s sophomore feature film as Gretchen, an angsty teen who, after her mother’s death, leaves the U.S. to live with her father Luis (Marton Csokas), stepmother Beth (Jessica Henwick), and 8-year-old half-sister Alma (Mila Lieu) in a resort in the German Alps. After taking a receptionist job at a nearby lodge, Gretchen has increasingly bizarre encounters with the resort’s guests and offbeat owner Herr König (Dan Stevens) that suggest her picturesque new home is not the paradise it purports to be.
In the psychedelic horror trip that is “Cuckoo,” music serves as an emotional and narrative guide, telling “a different story” than the surface-level plot, Singer said.
Fittingly, the film’s first true horror moment unfolds as Gretchen is playing bass in her room. Sporting noise-canceling headphones, she sings and strums along to a grunge track as Alma watches from outside her periphery.
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The long scene alternates sonic points of view, building tension, until Gretchen finally notices her young sister as she endures the first of her several seizures — which we later learn are reactions to the malign siren song of the cuckoo people, or what Singer calls “homo cuculidae,” residing in Resort Alpschatten.
Singer’s script was precise with this scene, which evokes the sisters’ estrangement and forges their central conflict. But not all went as planned.
Originally, Singer envisioned Gretchen playing a song by alternative rock band the Jesus and Mary Chain. The band’s style suited her perfectly: “They’re very noisy, but have this, like, shoegazey, blasé demeanor.” But when Neon deemed the licensing fee too steep, he went back to the drawing board.
“I look[ed] back at my list, and on my list was like, Suicide, or the Velvet Underground. I was like, ‘OK, I’m not gonna get any of these,’” Singer said. That’s when he called Simon Waskow.
Singer’s high school friend and longtime creative partner, Waskow had previously scored the director’s debut feature film “Luz” (2018) as well as a handful of short films they collaborated on in the early to mid-2010s. He wrote “Gretchen’s Song” in a single afternoon.
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“It just kind of worked very quickly,” the Cologne-based composer said. “Of all the music I did for the film, that song was the easiest part.”
At Singer’s offhand suggestion, Waskow adapted a “spaghetti western melody” from their old short film “Dear Mr. Vandekurt” — and a beat from the Jesus and Mary Chain — into the bass-heavy track.
Schafer was so attuned to the song, Waskow said, that after she recorded her vocals, he re-recorded his own to match hers.
“Hunter’s performance, really sweet and charming, and super unforced, basically just kind of clicked in,” he said. Schafer learned bass for the film, but in the scene, she looks like she’s been playing for years.
“That’s the talent that I love so much about her — how she can do something very delicate, emotional, [and] really profoundly emotional in a sort of relaxed, but not casual, style,” Singer said.
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A fragment of “Gretchen’s Song” also became the teenage protagonist’s theme, which recurs throughout “Cuckoo” — most notably when Gretchen and Alma reconcile at the film’s conclusion.
“It’s sort of this melancholic melody that then turns into something hopeful,” Singer said, characterizing Gretchen and “mirroring the entire intent of the movie.”
Other songs on the “Cuckoo” soundtrack similarly reflect their corresponding scenes. Gerhard Trede’s jazz-blues embody the old-timey atmosphere of the resort lobby, and Martin Dupont’s French New Wave expresses the romantic tension between Gretchen and a charming resort guest.
Just like costuming or set design, music is a world-building tactic in “Cuckoo,” Singer said.
More than that, though, he continued, music is Gretchen’s “philosophy” as she grieves her mother and her most reliable “weapon” against the cuckoo people, whose shrill call notably juxtaposes Gretchen’s low-toned theme.
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“This is the super-classical hero journey,” Waskow said: “Gretchen facing danger and then becoming, like, a musician.”
“She was always supposed to defend herself with music,” Singer said.
Elliot Page as Sam in Close to You. Courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment
After a triumphant splash in Juno, lovely, appealing Elliot Page got Oscar nominated, was on his way to a promising career as an important film star with range and talent, and then suddenly disappeared for 17 years. What happened? Where did he go? Now we know.
CLOSE TO YOU ★★(2/4 stars) Directed by: Dominic Savage Written by: Dominic Savage, Elliot Page Starring: Elliot Page, Hillary Baack Running time: 98 mins.
Close to You is my first exposure to Page since his emergence as a wistful, sensitive and dedicated man named Elliot. His absence from the screen is entirely understandable for a variety of obvious reasons, and Elliot has expressed a serious need to reach out to the vast number of friends, fans and prospective employers who wondered about his transition. To make sure you get the point, he has found a perfect vehicle in Close to You, emerging from bed in the opening scene naked, with a place for every feature, every feature in its place—flat-chested, no Adam’s apple, a clean-shaved chin with evidence of a five o’clock shadow, and a muscular torso that has been to the gym (but still a mystery about what goes where below the waist). I guess you could call it a brave, bold performance, but when you think about it you realize Page has no other choice if he wants to be both honest and a working artist with a viable future. He also wrote the screenplay with director Dominic Savage, so I think it’s safe to say the film includes excerpts from his personal experience.
In Close to You, he plays Sam, a man living in Toronto, adjusting to his transition with a new job and a new life. Sam hasn’t seen his family for four years, but now he bites the bullet and takes a long-dreaded trip back home for his father’s birthday. On the train, he runs into Katherine, an old high school friend, and feelings from their unresolved past refresh old memories of deeply troubled times when they experienced a lesbian relationship that traumatized them both. Katherine is married with children, but still drawn to Sam. In the weekend that follows, there are more chance encounters, and the superficial circumstances that bring them together force them to interact in intensely personal ways that open old wounds and open new doors. Part of the problem with Close to You is Hillary Baack, who plays Katherine. Miscast and inexperienced, she is not up to Page’s standards and mumbles so incoherently that whole scenes clumsily pass by without clarity.
At home, Sam is impacted even more. Every concern about how his parents and his siblings will react—plus the unsolicited comments and questions he receives about his transition—mirrors the ignorance, discomfort and terror in the eyes of the people who say they love him best but understand him least. The film is an emotionally observant drama about coming home as yourself, only for everyone to treat you like a stranger. “I’m happy,” Sam explains, “I’m living my life; I just need space. You weren’t worrying about me when I was not OK.” But as the domestic anxieties and challenges build, Sam must face the painful knowledge that coping is not his responsibility, and things have never really changed in a toxic environment that never felt fully welcoming in the first place.
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Things build to a violent explosion, Sam leaves with high expectations reduced to unresolved despair, and nothing ends the way you think it will, with everyone making nice and saying, “I forgive you.” But in a weak, vacillating postscript, raw honesty wanes when Katherine arrives in Toronto, gives in to her true feelings, and ends up in bed with Sam before she exits forever, with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. Despite Page’s lack of uncertainty about how to play a tender scene with maximum feeling, I didn’t believe this soapy resolve, and I found their nude sex scene not only a confusing way to end Close to You, but also just a little bit creepy.
Being dead isn’t easy. In Dead Talents Society, a new supernatural comedy from Taiwanese director John Hsu Han-chiang, the afterlife is every bit as competitive and unforgiving as the land of the living.
Spirits must prove themselves worthy of becoming ghosts through a rigorous selection process of auditions and contests, and avoid being condemned to eternal damnation.
For one newly deceased young woman, played by Gingle Wang and known only as The Rookie, this comes as quite a shock and is a far cry from the eternal rest she expected to find on the other side.
For Wang and Hsu this is a reunion, having previously worked together on the 2019 horror hit Detention, but their second outing could not be further removed from the politically charged chills of their earlier collaboration.
Dead Talents Society is a far more lighthearted and humorous affair, closer in tone to the absurd, anarchic works of Giddens Ko Ching-teng, specifically his 2021 afterlife fantasy Till We Meet Again, in which Wang also played a pivotal role.
Hsu’s film is a supernatural screwball comedy about making a life for yourself in the Great Hereafter. After dying under uncertain circumstances, our heroine finds herself wandering listlessly through the Underworld with her best friend (Bai Bai) when she learns that her place on the ethereal plain is far from secure.
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(From left) Sandrine Pinna as Catherine, Chen Bo-lin as Makoto and Bai Bai as Camilla in a still from Dead Talents Society.
All the other ghosts have worked hard to hone their craft as a spectral menace, developing a nuanced character and terrifying technique while cultivating a formidable urban legend for their manifestation in the land of the living.
Those who fail to establish themselves as a ghost of merit within 30 days are permanently disintegrated.
The Rookie finds herself flung into a punishing audition process, overseen by a formidably unforgiving jury, to secure herself a haunting licence. Laughed off stage, all seems lost, until she is taken in by a compassionate band of misfits who haunt a dilapidated, rarely frequented hotel.
Eleven Yao as Jessica in a still from Dead Talents Society.
This motley crew includes one-time pop idol Makoto (Chen Bo-lin, recently also seen in Breaking and Re-entering) and fading diva Catherine (Sandrine Pinna), whose celebrity status as Golden Ghost winner has been usurped by her ambitious protégé, Jessica (Eleven Yao Yi-ti).
While rarely conjuring any genuine scares, Dead Talents Society is a wildly imaginative, frequently hilarious and shamelessly feel-good tale of teamwork, friendship, self-belief and finding your true purpose, where death is not the be all and end all, but just the first step towards living your best life.
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Comedian Matt Rife sits for a portrait at the Kookaburra Lounge.
(Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
Shortly after becoming the youngest stand-up comedian in history to sell out the Hollywood Bowl during the second installment of Netflix is a Joke in May, Matt Rife’s tireless pursuit of success finally caught up to him. His performance schedule clocking 40 to 50 shows a month led to a stretch of consecutive days without sleep as he stayed up prepping for shows, editing social videos and barreling from city to city. Though his body and mind were getting shaky on tour, he fought through it. Finally, just before a recent pair of shows in Indiana, he said he almost collapsed while leaving his hotel room and was forced to cancel the gigs just hours before showtime. Suffering blurred vision and painful ringing in his ears, he could barely walk or talk and had to be taken to the emergency room.
“I felt like I was legitimately dying,” Rife said during an interview at the Kookaburra Lounge in Hollywood. “It’s embarrassing, man, because everybody around me saw this coming.” His piercing blue eyes cast down briefly at the floor as he thought about the moment he almost pushed himself past his limits. “Everybody’s only response was, ‘Can’t believe this didn’t happen sooner.’”
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Since that episode, Rife said he’s spent considerable time finding a balance that allows him to sleep and to pursue his dreams. His latest project, “Lucid: A Crowd Work Special,” premiering Tuesday on Netflix, is a new hour where he interacts directly with his fans, talking to them about their own dreams, fears and future aspirations. Though the goal of course is laughter, Rife said the special is about finding ways to relate to his fans through dialogue in a real, meaningful way and also remind himself to appreciate his own success.
“The concept of dreams in general was just something that was so special to me, because I am so lucky that I get to finally live my biggest dream, being this moment that I’m having right now,” he said. “And I know so many other people strive for that, not necessarily in comedy specifically, but everybody has something that they’re chasing.”
During the special he singles out members of the audience to talk about where they were in chasing their dream gigs or analyzing their goals— and yes, crack jokes and roast them a bit for our enjoyment. Though this isn’t his first crowd-work special (see 2023’s “Walking Red Flag”), it’s a definite budget upgrade from a single camera set-up. The new Netflix production shows Rife at the peak of his powers, sparking spontaneous humor out of the fans who packed into the Comedy Zone in Charlotte, N.C.
Rife is known for crowd work, and he thinks he does it at a higher level. “It’s something that’s just fun and exciting for me,” he said. “These are moments that are never going to be duplicated at any other show I ever do. … When you’re rehearsing your set, building the material on a show for an hourlong, material special, you can definitely get tired of telling your own jokes.”
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For a comic who once struggled to sell tickets for weeknight shows at big-city comedy clubs, the rush of fame over the last couple of years feels surreal. “When I started doing comedy this was never even a dream of mine to be at this level. I was just like, if I could ever sell out a comedy club one time ever, that’s the epitome of what I think a comedian probably could be,” he said.
Humility aside, there’s no shortage of both love and hate on the internet for Rife. Since going viral on TikTok in 2022, he’s has become a fixture in pop culture, frequently making headlines for whom he’s dating, what house he’s buying or whatever backlash he’s stirred up for jokes that strike some as sexist and misogynistic. But negative feedback hasn’t had much of an effect on his tour numbers. To date, he and Taylor Swift are the only two artists who command enough of a feeding frenzy to break Ticketmaster when announcing a tour. The argument over whether his fame is a result of his movie-star looks or his talent is well worn at this point, yet few seem to factor in the breakneck pace at which Rife and his team operate to keep his momentum going.
Fellow comedian Erik Griffin, who directed “Lucid” as well as Rife’s previous specials including 2023’s “Matthew Steven Rife” and his Netflix debut, “Natural Selection,” has worked with the young star since Rife was just a teen who was hitting Griffin up online looking for a chance to open for the veteran comic onstage. “What I admire about him is his work ethic,” Griffin said. “Nothing was handed to him. He’s been working hard for 12 years now, the fan base has just caught up with it, and they’ve made him super famous.”
Comedian Matt Rife.
(Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
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Rife started in comedy at age 15, having become obsessed when his grandma took him to a Dane Cook show. Too young to drive himself to clubs, Rife had his grandpa take him from North Lewisburg, Ohio, to open mics as well as “bringer shows,” a rite of passage in which comics have to sell a certain number of tickets to get onstage. None of Rife’s friends were old enough to get inside a comedy club, so his grandpa would buy tickets. For Rife, the excitement of performing was initially eclipsed by fear.
The first time Rife went onstage for an open mic, he said, he almost soiled his pants. “I had all my jokes memorized but I was so nervous. And the host goes onstage. ‘We have a first timer tonight, give it up for the uncomfortably young Matt Reef,’” Rife recalled, adding that he was so nervous he thought his bowels were “gonna drop out of my body.” It was then that Rife recognized the feeling of stage fright for the first time. It excited him as much as it scared him, he said.
The pursuit of a career in comedy led him to leave Ohio and hit the road by age 17, and he settled in L.A. to pursue acting while still crisscrossing the country for gigs. During a decade of grinding, he put his looks, quick wit and work ethic to use, landing stints as a co-host of MTV’s short-lived “TRL” reboot and as a cast member of the sketch show “Wild ’N Out.” He also popped up on an episode of “Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” In 2017 his name surfaced in People magazine when he was briefly romantically linked to Kate Beckinsale.
He amassed millions of views on TikTok sketch and crowd work videos along with more than 30 million views for his three YouTube specials prior to “Natural Selection” last year. The comedian’s ability to build a relationship with a largely female fan base stems from his crowd work skills.
“He draws people in because he listens,” Griffin said. “So when he’s doing this crowd work with people, he’s genuinely interested in what people are saying. Those are the type of clips that have gotten that have gone viral for him, and those are the things that resonate with people. It’s not just crowd work for the sake of crowd work.”
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(Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times)
Usually Rife is able to turn awkward or strange interactions into comedy gold. It’s much harder when an audience member tries too hard to be funny. “Don’t do that,” he says bluntly. “Just be yourself. I’ll bring the comedy out of you. Don’t worry. We’ll find it, you know, we’re Jordan and Pippin in this. Don’t be selfish.”
Though it’s always been Rife’s dream to entertain at the highest level, building that fame in the TikTok era has come with internet criticism. Whether people don’t like his looks or his humor or just want to elicit a response in the comments of social media, Rife is used to being a target for backlash, though he said he’s gotten better at ignoring it. It’s no coincidence that his two favorite comedians are Dave Chappelle and Ricky Gervais, two of the most popular and criticized comedians to hold a microphone.
“It’s a lot to juggle,” he said. “In the beginning, you really mostly only hear the positive … and then a very select group of people go, ‘Oh, this person’s very well loved and respected, and I myself might lack that love and respect in my own personal life, so therefore I don’t want this person to have it.’ So then comes the influx of negativity. You just have to really appreciate the good, because the bad is going to come with it, guaranteed. Nobody is universally loved.”
Through friends and therapy, he’s learned not to give negativity any oxygen in his world.
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“I used to avidly respond back to people. Nobody could be meaner than me if I really wanted to be,” he said. “But you can’t do that, because whether or not you feel like you won that interaction or you had the better roast, what this troll or hater said to you doesn’t matter. You gave them exactly what they want. All they want is attention.”
While the topic of fighting for a dream is the focus of Rife’s newest special, the act of sharing his journey is at the heart of his next creative output, the book “Your Mom’s Gonna Love Me,” slated for December. Rife talks about becoming a comedy heartthrob before age 30, navigating his sex appeal in the public eye, battling depression and enduring failure before finally hitting it big.
Part of recapturing the dream is also talking about the people in his life who helped him achieve it, including close friends, early mentors and his grandpa — his first advocate in comedy — who died in November 2022, just before his career really began to take off. “He never got to see me have any of this, and he’s the reason I have any of this,” Rife said. “I’ve been so happy to be so distracted and keep busy and keep my mind off that kind of stuff. But through therapy and this book, which has been a massive form of therapy, it’s forced me to take time and reflect on all the things that got me to this point right now.”
After taking enough time to process his past, Rife’s new focus is on keeping his dream alive.
“That’s the new anxiety, by the way,” he said. “Because that’s the hardest thing. How many viral sensations are there a year? 30? Anybody can have a hot year, a hot moment of their career. So many musicians, actors, comedians have them quite often. Hard part is maintaining.”
