The twisted horror film Cuckoo finally arrived in theaters and we made sure to check it out.

I am always on the lookout for interesting horror films and Cuckoo has been on my radar for quite some time. There was something about the initial trailer for the film that was so unsettling I just had to know what this story was all about.

Cuckoo was directed by Tilman Singer and is set deep in the Bavarian Alps at a remote resort. 17 year-old Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) is deeply unhappy about having to live with her father and his new family and things only get more difficult as she begins hearing and seeing strange things all around her. Once she begins to investigate, it quickly becomes obvious that something very twisted is going on.

One area that Cuckoo particularly excels in is its ability to be unsettling. This is especially true in how the film utilizes sound. I’ve noted before that sound design can be a detail that makes or breaks a film, but it’s been a while since i saw a film utilize it so well. It was almost like the filmmakers were teaching the audience a language: at first the various weird sounds have no meaning and are somewhat confusing. But then, as the film proceeds into the second half, more information locks into place and the viewer is obliged to re-evaluate everything they’ve heard and what it actually meant.

From the opening scene of Cuckoo, it’s blindingly obvious that something is very wrong, but the film teases out the details in such a way that you’re led along from one horror to the next without getting so far ahead that you can see the conclusion before the director is ready to reveal that information.

Two performances that need to be highlighted are those of Hunter Schafer as Gretchen and Dan Stevens as the unsettlingly affable Herr König. Hunter completely blows it out of the water as the teenaged Gretchen, who finds herself completely in over her head and wants nothing more than to get away. It’s easy to empathize with Gretchen’s frustration as she’s trying so hard to be heard by her family, especially her father, but no one appears willing to listen. That makes her situation all the more stressful because there doesn’t appear to be any family safety-net for her to fall back on.

And then there’s Dan Stevens. Between his unhinged performance in Abigail earlier this year and his twisted turn in Cuckoo as Herr König, I may never be able to watch him the same way ever again. Dan Stevens possesses the unnerving ability to make you feel afraid without ever saying anything openly threatening. Even when he’s allegedly showing concern, it’s presented in a way that feels wrong, almost inappropriate. Once the story picks up in the second half, Stevens’ performance becomes one of the best parts of the film.

As for the overall story of Cuckoo, it is truly good when all is said and done. However, audiences will need to be patient as things don’t truly begin to pick up until the second act of the film. If the film has one weakness, it’s that the first act feels slightly scattered as we don’t yet have the later context clues to inform us what’s going on. Cuckoo is one of those films that will likely be easier to watch the second time around.

It could be argued that the film could use a hair more of exposition, i.e. what’s actually happening, but the thing with horror is that there is a fine line between telling the audience just enough to get by and ruining the suspense with too large of an info dump. It feels like the filmmakers erred on the side of caution with how much straight information the viewer receives, and that is probably for the best. While I personally would have liked a bit more, I also understand the desire to leave the audience wanting more.

Cuckoo is easily one of the best films to come out this summer. Fans of horror films who are looking for a scary experience that doesn’t retread the same old story will find plenty to love. Be sure to see it on the largest screen possible, it’s worth it.

Mitchell Altieri’s Consumed has some strong performances, but a weak narrative and undercooked ideas bring everything down.

Sure, there’s not a lot you can particularly do when all you have surrounding you are trees, but man, it’s just hard to muster up any interest in what ultimately amounts to a whole lot of standing around waiting for something scary to happen.

Now, horror movies, especially independent ones, often have only a tiny budget to work with, which can only add to the stresses of production. Consumed, from the jump, is a simple film. We follow a couple named Beth (Courtney Halverson, of True Detective) and Jay (Mark Famiglietti) as they take on a camping trip just one year after Beth’s cancer remission. Their little vacation starts well enough, but it doesn’t take long before the woods they reside in begin to show their dark side. As a mysterious skin-wearing creature hunts the couple down, they are saved by Quinn (Devon Sawa), a mysterious hunter living in the woods. Caught between this strange beast and a potentially dangerous man, Beth and Jay find themselves trapped in a horrifying nightmare and must make major sacrifices to escape.

When you’re someone who has watched a lot of horror films, it becomes very easy to spot all the clichés and contrivances that come with the genre. Sometimes, these can be used in charming ways, but other times, they serve to distract and overwhelm you in mediocrity. With Consumed, the set-up is compelling enough, but the execution leaves much to be desired. Whether it’s the budget or the general lack of creativity in the script that brings things down, the result is a movie that can’t stand out from the crowd. Every cliché and moment you’ve seen in horror films like this is hit here with no real fanfare. Budget constraints or not, the general lack of fresh ideas is where Consumed truly crumbles.

The relationship between Beth and Jay is undoubtedly the heart of Consumed, but at the same time, the script by writer David Calbert fails to drive home the emotionality of their situation. Beth is a character who’s deeply impacted by her illness and, despite seemingly beating it, finds herself distracted by something on her mind. Jay, on the other hand, finds his optimism for the future clashing with the trauma of the past.

These struggles the characters face largely get tossed to one side when the film’s horror elements begin to kick in, and frankly, it’s a real shame. Courtney Halverson and Mark Famiglietti are both strong performers, gathering a lot of emotion and heart purely through their confident performances. With the meagre budget on hand, it’s incredibly frustrating that Consumed seems to focus on the wrong things. When you add some cheap-looking CGI into the mix, many of the creepier moments fail to resonate. There’s occasional fun to be had in the film’s use of gore and practical effects, but it ultimately feels empty and underdeveloped.

In the third act of Consumed, there is an attempt to try and wrap its emotional core around its character once more to create a more impactful ending, but it comes a little too late. Despite reaching only 90 minutes, including credits, the film still feels a bit long in the tooth and aimless in what it has to say or what it wants to show on screen. Is it a story about overcoming the trauma of illness, or is it a story about this couple coming together to escape a terrifying skin-wearing monster and ultimately growing stronger together in the process? Consumed attempts to explore these concepts, but it ultimately reaches an unsure answer. Instead, it opts to do both things simultaneously with mixed results.

Consumed is far from a bad horror movie. The performances are strong, and there’s at least some fun to be had in its regular genre thrills. However, it is a case of unrealised potential, as director Mitchell Altieri and writer David Calbert ultimately feel too interested in the things they just don’t have the right script or budget for. The film plays around with some fun and more existential ideas in the third act, but it all arrives a little too late, leaving everything feeling undercooked. Some solid ideas throughout show that both Altieri and Calbert have engaging, creative minds, but it’s all ultimately wrapped around a story that is simply too shallow to hit as hard as it should.

Consumed will be released in US theaters and on demand on August 16, 2024.

Deep in the forests of Germany, there is a resort, a quaint getaway nestled right at the bottom of the Bavarian Alps. Step out of your car, and you immediately feel like you’re stepping into a postcard; you half expect men in lederhosen, hoisting large steins of Pilsner, to greet you as walk toward the lobby. It’s so picturesque that you might not notice the strange noise emanating from within the woods right next to the guest houses. It’s faint, but very shrill. Something feels weird about that sound, but then again, this region is near where the Brothers Grimm set their fairy tales. And fairy tales are often filled with monsters.

This is where Cuckoo, the creepy new film from German director Tilman Singer (Luz), takes place, and while horror movies do not necessarily rely on the holy trinity of real estate — “Location, location, location” — this setting adds immensely to the immediate feel of unease. One look, and you quickly wonder when, not if, the big bad wolf will make his or her presence known. It doesn’t help that the hotel’s inhabitants have a tendency to wander the lobby in a daze and/or start vomiting uncontrollably. Or that that the unsettling shrieking in the distance keeps getting louder, especially after dark. Or that these sonic blasts have a tendency to cause the film’s visuals to pulse and rewind everything back five to six seconds.

That’s one of the aesthetic tics that Singer utilizes to suggest something wicked this way is coming, or rather, that’s it’s already here and patiently setting a trap. Cuckoo will eventually answer your questions (most of them, anyway; there are loose ends abound). But for now, it’s content to simply unnerve you in the most stylish, Argentoesque way possible. Our guide for this Euro-horror nightmare is Gretchen (Hunter Schaefer). A teenager still grieving the loss of her mother and resentful of her stepmother (Jessica Henwick) — we told you it had fairy-tale vibes — she’s been reluctantly conscripted into living in Germany with Dad (Marton Csokas), his second wife and their mute seven-year-old daughter (Mila Lieu). Gretchen would much rather be back home, playing music with her Jesus-and-Mary-Chain–ish shoegaze band. Instead, she’s stuck in Bavaria, with nothing but her bike, her bass and a butterfly knife to keep her company. Three guesses as to which of those items is going to come in real handy soon.

The resort is run by Herr König (Dan Stevens, toggling between an out-rrrrrr-ageous German accent or a better-than-decent impersonation of Christoph Waltz), who couldn’t be happier that the family has returned to his little patch of Saxon paradise. Seven years ago, Gretchen’s father and his new spouse honeymooned at the resort. Their stay resulted in her stepsister — a girl who Gretchen semi-tolerates and Herr König pays particular attention to. One afternoon, as that strange noise rings out from within the woods, the area below the child’s throat begins to rapidly flutter and she has a fit. Later that night, while Gretchen is riding home on her bike, she notice another shadow on the ground besides her own — someone seems to sprinting directly behind her, hands grasping at her shoulder. When she gets a look at her pursuer, it appears to be an older lady, wearing a trenchcoat and sunglasses long after the sun has gone down. And then shit gets really weird.

There are other, more peripheral bit of information that soon come into play, such as the fact that König has diversified his portfolio and invested in a local clinic just down the road from the resort. There’s also a former police detective (Jan Bluthardt) who’s sniffing around for answers regarding the mysterious occurrences around the joint, and has a personal connection to the what’s going on. Also, did you know that in addition to be known for popping out of clocks and warbling on the hour, the animal that gives the film its title is a “brood parasite” — as in, it lays eggs in other birds’ nests and lets them raise and nurture them as if it were their own?

Cuckoo also doubles as pretty good description of the film itself, though even that may be too mild an adjective — judges would have also accepted Batshit, Whoa! and Oh My God Wait What the Fuck?! as alternative names. Singer seems to be going for a late-period giallo vibe here, when the subgenre entered its baroque period and begin laying the more outré elements extra thick. (See: the original Suspiria.) The sunglasses and overcoat get-up of the movie’s in-house maniac also signify a love of Italy’s classic slasher-a-go-go entries, and there’s an overall lurid feeling that taps into the underbelly legacy of the best, boundary-pushing Euro-horror flicks of the 1970s and ’80s.

You don’t have to know where Cuckoo is coming from or where it ends up going, of course, to appreciate how Hunter Schaefer leans into her role with both an impressive sense of commitment and enthusiastic embrace of the crazier, kookier aspects of the story. The Euphoria star has not only gone on record as being a huge horror fanatic but also that she wanted to make her mark as “a badass thriller bad bitch with a knife in her mouth” (her words, not ours), to which we can only say: Job well done. And let us officially say that we’re 100-percent behind Dan Stevens‘ ongoing career pivot from dapper leading hunk (U.K. division) to playing kooks, freaks and scenery-chewing nutjobs. The two of them hold the film up when it starts to sag in spots, or when the sensation that the creepazoid bells and whistles and over-the-top motherhood allegories are lapping the logistics becomes a tad too much. Look at it through the lens of a dual star vehicle that isn’t afraid to sacrifice coherence in the name of cheap thrills, and this bird only slightly sings off-key. Just don’t tell the Bavarian tourist board.