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.

Warning: The following review contains some spoilers and discusses domestic violence.

With her cascading blonde hair, long legs, and toothpaste-commercial smile, Blake Lively is the epitome of the sun-kissed California beauty. It was actually a little far-fetched that she played some sort of Upper East Side princess in Gossip Girl—she’s surf boards and Laguna Beach all the way. But we bought it, mostly because her primary purpose on that show was to be the foil to the jealous Blair, who wanted the effortless charm that Lively’s Serena possessed.

In It Ends With Us, based on Colleen Hoover’s wildly popular novel (as seen on TikTok!), Lively does not have blond hair, but a mess of cooperative red curls, the sort that exist far more often in romance novels than real life. She wears flowy, artfully mismatched clothing—I spied some Magnolia Pearl, notorious for their expensive schmattas; she also seems to favor these architecturally complicated chainmail boots. She opens a flower shop in Boston, straight out of a “Bohemian Flower Shop” Pinterest board. It’s all a little ridiculous. It seems like cosplay.

Lively’s incongruous casting is a perfect metaphor for the film, which also seems to be suffering from an identity crisis.

At first, It Ends With Us seems like a love story. Lively’s Lily Blossom Bloom—yes, the film makes fun of the name, which feels like cheating since they’re the ones who gave her the name—meets hunky neurosurgeon Ryle Kincaid (Justin Baldoni, who also directs) on a rooftop. (For the record, they also make fun of his soap-opera-ready name. Again, YOU NAMED HIM THAT.) She’s up there contemplating her father who just died, but whom she didn’t really love. (More on that in a bit.) Ryle comes on the roof to vent about something—he assaults a chair. Knowing that the film was ultimately going to be about domestic violence, I thought this was a good touch. They’re showing that he has a bad temper. And yet, for a while, Ryle is nothing but a dreamboat. Although he’s a notorious playboy, he vows to change his ways for Lily. He’s doting, sincere, patient. There’s a minor road block once it’s discovered that Ryle is the brother of Lily’s best friend, Allysa (Jenny Slate, here to save us). But their love cannot be stopped! With Allysa’s blessing, Ryle and Lily get married.

Okay, but let’s back-up a bit. In flashbacks, we also see glimpses of Lily’s first love, a homeless boy named Atlas (stop laughing). In those flashbacks, Lily is played by Isabela Ferrer and Atlas is played by Alex Neustaedter, who both only glancingly resemble their older counterparts. The flashbacks here are doing a lot of heavy lifting: They’re showing us Lily’s first love and showing us that Lily’s father beat Lily’s mother and eventually Atlas, when he discovers the boy in bed with his daughter—but they feel perfunctory. Baldoni seems much more interested in the scenes depicting Lily’s adult life (maybe because he’s in them?).

And then Ryle hits Lily. It kind of comes out of nowhere. This film would’ve been notably better if they’d established Ryle’s violent tendencies—getting jealous at a bar, maybe, or being enraged when his much-loved Bruins lose a game. Yes, we saw him assault that chair on the roof, but that was it. Beyond that, he was Prince Charming. Ryle gaslights Lily (and to a certain extent us) into thinking it was an accident. (The film intentional holds back on showing us the extent of his violence until later on.) Lily covers her bruise with some makeup and they go out for dinner with Allysa and her affable husband (Hasan Minhaj). The waiter looks kinda familiar? You guessed it, it’s Atlas, all grown up now and sporting a non-threatening beard (he’s played as an adult by Brandon Sklenar). He’s not just their waiter, he’s the restaurant’s owner and chef. (He is the Swiss Army Knife of convenient plot contrivances.)

Atlas sees the hastily covered bruise on Lily’s face and immediately groks what’s going on, even if she refuses to see it. He and Ryle fight and this is the beginning of the end, as Ryle becomes consumed by jealousy.

I experienced a fair amount of cognitive dissonance watching It Ends With Us—it plays like a sun-dappled romance that suddenly turns violent. (Apparently some people, expecting it to be an uncomplicated love story, felt deceived by the sudden change in tone.)

I appreciate the fact that this is ultimately a film—and book—about ending the cycle of violence. We’ve evolved past the “fall in love with your rapist” trope, thank goodness. But it feels like they want to have their cake and eat it, too, here—a hot romance with beautiful people and a “you go, girl” film about a woman rejecting her violent lover. And then there’s Atlas—chef, waiter, restaurant owner, former homeless kid turned bearded king—waiting in the wings. Is the answer to leaving your abusive husband having a better alternative on deck?

Clad in a two-tiered ruffled dress, Minnie Mouse ears and a folding fan, all made of recycled Disney parks merch bags, Patt Haro reminisced about the days, decades ago, when Disneyland’s annual pass was just $99.

Haro, 65, and her similarly decked-out husband, Richard, 66, have been annual pass holders for more than 40 years. The Fontana couple used to buy passes for loved ones as Christmas presents.

“Prices have definitely gone up,” said Haro, who also works as a travel planner specializing in Disney trips.

But that hasn’t stopped the couple’s tradition of visiting Disneyland every Sunday in coordinated, handmade outfits, similar to their get-up at the D23 Disney convention in Anaheim this weekend. For their most recent annual passes, known as a “Magic Key,” they paid about $1,600 — which Richard Haro estimates works out to $20 a day.

“It’s really worth it to us,” he said.

What keeps them coming back?

“The magic,” Patt Haro said, smiling.

At Disney’s biennial fan event at the Anaheim Convention Center, even the biggest fans acknowledged the higher prices for theme park admission and grumbled about the move to paid line-skipping perks. But D23 attendees, a self-selecting group of superfans, were far from willing to cut out trips.

That is good news for the Burbank media and entertainment company, which last week reported relatively soft financial results in its experiences division, which includes the theme parks, cruise line and merchandise. The division reported a 2% increase in revenue for the fiscal third quarter, compared with a year ago, but a 3% decrease in operating income.

The segment dominated previous earnings reports and brought in about 70% of Disney’s operating income during the most recent fiscal year. For a while, the segment was a bright spot for the company as streaming lost billions of dollars while cannibalizing its cable networks and theatrical movie releases.

But company executives and analysts say pent-up demand for travel since the COVID-19 pandemic is starting to subside. Moreover, the company told financial analysts to expect “flattish” revenue for the experiences division for the next fiscal quarter and for several quarters after that. The company cited signs of softening demand among U.S. consumers, a sign that economic stress might finally be weighing on people’s travel plans.

That’s led to questions about whether Disney has priced out lower- or middle-income visitors and how the park will handle consumers increasingly squeezed by inflation. These days, a family of three could expect to pay at least $700 just to get in the turnstile with Park Hopper tickets at the Disney theme parks in Anaheim.

“It is not news that a Disney trip is expensive, but the magnitude and speed of price increases over roughly the past five years was jarring to many respondents, and we do not believe similar increases over roughly the next five years are feasible,” wrote Ric Prentiss, managing director at Raymond James, in a note to clients about results from a survey of 20 Disney superfans, travel agents and local business owners.

A Disney spokesperson said in a statement that the company offers a range of prices starting from $106 at Disneyland Resort in Anaheim and $109 at Walt Disney World in Orlando, Fla., which “gives guests the opportunity to visit during periods when they can get even greater value.” The spokesperson also noted that a typical trip to a Disney theme park can last 10 to 16 hours, and that guest experience ratings are trending higher.

“Over 70 years, Disney parks have navigated through many economic cycles like this before,” the spokesperson said. “We firmly believe in a bright future for our business, and we’re committed to investment and expansion around the world.”

To keep Disney parks competitive with rivals, including Universal’s soon-to-open Epic Universe park in Orlando, the company plans to invest $60 billion over 10 years into its experiences division, including a development of at least $1.9 billion at Disneyland Resort.

On Saturday night, company executives unveiled plans for a new “Avatar”-themed section and a new “Coco” boat ride in Disney California Adventure, as well as a villains-themed land in Disney World’s Magic Kingdom, “Encanto”- and “Indiana Jones”-themed attractions in Orlando’s Animal Kingdom and a “Monsters, Inc.” land at Disney’s Hollywood Studios.

Many questions remained, including when those attractions would open and where, exactly, in the parks they’d be located, but Josh D’Amaro, chair of the company’s experiences division and a potential successor to current Chief Executive Bob Iger, said all were in some stage of development.

“Disney’s plans are drawn,” he said onstage at Saturday night’s presentation at the Honda Center arena. “This means the dirt is moving.”

The more concrete plan of action was welcomed by fans, who groused at the last D23 convention in 2022 that Disney’s parks presentation was heavy on potential but light on actual details. Some fans said they wanted to see new attractions that would freshen things up. The last thing they want is to feel as if they’re paying more for the same old thing.

Wes Strickland, 27, said the parks have been “pretty stagnant” since the pandemic, which has been “kind of frustrating.”

Disney is “not adding enough in the parks to justify price increases, said Strickland, an Anaheim resident who worked at Disneyland for three years and is an annual pass holder. He also noted the paid line-skipping service, an option that was formerly free, as a concern.

Yet he still goes every other week. The park is too full of memories for him, as it reminds him of visiting as a child and of his first date with his now-fiancee.

“It’s a magical place for us, even though it’s too expensive,” said Strickland, who was wearing a purple button-down festooned with the creepy eyes from the wallpaper in the Haunted Mansion ride. “It’s top bar for theme parks.”

Friends Ryan Wenzel, 31, and Allie Ring, 31, both from Chicago, attend Disney’s D23 fan convention in Anaheim on Saturday, dressed as the now-defunct Disney FastPass.

(Samantha Masunaga / Los Angeles Times)

Wearing torso-sized replicas of the now-discontinued Disney FastPasses over their chests, longtime friends Ryan Wenzel and Allie Ring have resigned themselves to higher prices.

“I feel like inflation is everywhere,” said Wenzel, 31, from Chicago, wearing a giant replica of a FastPass for the Haunted Mansion ride. “I’ve always gotten the value out of the parks that I expect.”

“Everything has gotten more expensive,” added Ring, 31, who wore a Jungle Cruise FastPass.

The two, who have been best friends since high school and visit Disney parks multiple times a year, said they understood that Disney had to enact some changes in the parks. But the company seemed open to guest feedback, they said, citing adjustments to its paid line-skipping feature.

Others, though, voiced some frustration with recent visits to Disney theme parks, noting a particular feeling of being aggressively marketed to with merchandise.

“Buy ‘Coco’ stuff. Buy Avengers stuff. Buy ‘Avatar’ stuff,” said Marie Santos, 37, of San Francisco. Santos suggested a simple remedy for the company’s challenges: “Make new attractions.”

But the parks still hold a particular draw for Disney superfans, particularly at D23.

At a cosplay photo meet-up on Saturday, a cluster of people dressed up as the iconic Spaceship Earth ride at Epcot, an ax-wielding bride from the Haunted Mansion and unnamed animatronic characters from the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. One woman in a nightgown lugged around her own green shutters, cosplaying as a character in the ride who shouts to a man named Carlos.

That nostalgia keeps devotees coming back.

Darryl Paltao, 33, said that as the price of his annual pass price has gone up, he’s had to crunch the numbers to make sure he gets to Disneyland at least six times a year to get his money’s worth. He bemoaned some of the changes over the years to the parks, such as the advent of the pandemic-era reservation system that ended his spontaneous visits to Disneyland after, say, a dinner at Downtown Disney.

But he keeps coming back because it reminds him of family trips, when his grandfather would push him down Main Street in a stroller.

“It always brings back memories,” said Paltao, a Foster City resident.

He said he’d deal with the consequences to his wallet later.