Cuckoo (Fantasia 2024) (Review)

Cuckoos are brood parasites that lay their eggs in the nests of other bird species and, once hatched, the chicks are raised by the unsuspecting host parents, who frequently reject their own eggs and young as a result. To Gretchen (Hunter Schafer), a teenage girl forced to move to the Bavarian Alps with her estranged father (Marton Csokas), his wife (Jessica Henwick), and their mute daughter Alma (Mila Lieu), after her mother’s passing, the plight of the host chick must seem all-too-relatable. Alone in an unfamiliar place, neglected, and often outright ignored by her “new” parents in favour of their other child, her cries for help are unheard or played down by those around her. For some transgender people, the experience of being rejected by those who are supposed to love and care for you, simply because of who and what you are, is all too upsettingly familiar. The parasite may have infiltrated your nest, but the host species can be just as cruel…

Of all the films that audiences are hyped to see at this year’s Fantasia festival, arguably the most highly-anticipated is Tilman Singer’s Cuckoo – to the point that it’s already set to receive a wide theatrical release from distributor NEON later this year. This isn’t because Singer was the director and writer behind Fantasia queer horror hit Luz (2018), but also because Cuckoo contains the first starring role for actress, model, activist, and modern LGBTQ+ icon Hunter Schafer. Famous for playing transgender teen Jules in the popular and controversial ongoing HBO drama Euphoria, Schafer has recently appeared in some memorable supporting roles on the silver screen – Tigris in The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (2023), and recently in Yorgos Lanthimos’ Kinds of Kindness (2024). For Cuckoo, Schafer is front and centre as troubled teen Gretchen – and judging by her performance here, it’s about time too.

Brought by unfortunate circumstances to Bavaria, Gretchen’s distant father and his family hope to build a new holiday resort there with the assistance of the eccentric Herr König (The Guest’s Dan Stevens). After accepting a job offer from König to work day shifts in reception at his nearby hotel, Gretchen slowly discovers the dark, sinister secret of what goes on in the woods at night – beginning with a violent and frightening encounter with a tall woman in a hooded beige coat (Kalin Morrow), whose ear-piercing scream seems to distort the listener’s perception of time. Something strange, whether supernatural or otherwise, is happening at the resort, and someone (or something), has sinister intentions towards Gretchen’s younger sister, Alma.

To make comparisons between Cuckoo and any prior piece of media would be doing it a disservice because it’s a singular curio of a film, and even though it shares elements with other genre favourites, I don’t think there’s anything quite like it. There’s a great deal going on here (some might say too much), but it does all come together in a fairly satisfying fashion, and I wonder how general audiences might react to this strange bird’s song. Its unusual (and wholly unexpected), tone and presentation are likely to polarise, but judging by the tremendous success of Longlegs earlier this year, it seems like moviegoers are more willing to take risks and see more challenging, offbeat horror titles in theatres than they were a couple of years ago.

There are elements to Cuckoo which are undeniably fantastic (most notably its central performances), and Schafer plays Gretchen as the foul-mouthed, chain-smoking, switchblade-wielding dirtbag lesbian of your dreams. She’s a grounded heroine for the latest generation of young queer misfits looking to see themselves on screen, and it’s refreshing to see a lead so far from the airbrushed poster-perfect final girls of yesteryear. The most impressive aspect is how Gretchen sustains realistic injuries throughout the film that stay with her until the end, from facial bruising and scars to even a broken arm!

Schafer’s co-star Dan Stevens also delivers a tremendous performance of an entirely different nature, perfectly balancing König’s borderline-camp eccentricity with the quiet, bubbling threat that lurks beneath the surface of his friendly, welcoming host persona. Netherlands-based dancer, Kalin Morrow, delivers an impressively uncanny turn as Cuckoo’s screeching Hooded Woman – who features in many of the film’s most tense and frightening scenes (my personal favourite of which is a terrifying visual gag involving a night-time bicycle ride, which is achieved entirely through shadows). It’s also a topical film as themes like gender rights and body autonomy, particularly in regards to women and disabled people, are most certainly at the heart of Cuckoo.

It’s never explicitly confirmed if Gretchen is transgender, but also never outright denied – a phenomenon that Old Wounds author and trans horror historian Logan-Ashley Kisner has previously referred to as “Schrödinger’s transsexual” in regards to trans rep in movies. Hunter Schafer, herself one of the most famous trans people in film at this moment, has publicly stated recently that she doesn’t wish to play “trans roles” for the foreseeable future, partially to enable herself to be seen as an actress rather than specifically a “trans actress”. It’s a position I understand, particularly due to the nature of many “trans” scripts out there – many of which are penned by cis writers without consultation from trans folks. Schafer has said that she’s open to playing trans roles in the future if she has a direct hand in the scriptwriting process, which is an opportunity she should definitely have if the success of the Euphoria special she penned during lockdown is anything to go by.

Knowing Schafer’s wishes it probably seems reductive, and even counterproductive, for me read Cuckoo as a trans narrative – hell, to even bring up Schafer being a trans woman at all. As a transgender woman myself though, I can’t help but hear this tune in Cuckoo’s call, and be drawn to its story of a teen girl thrown into a scary, confusing situation that many parents don’t understand, authorities don’t care about, and doctors wish to pathologise and examine in cold, clinical laboratories. It resonates from a trans perspective – particularly given the current state of the world, and how else am I supposed to read König’s remarks about Gretchen “putting her flesh back together with (her) own hands”? It’s more than a straightforward trans narrative, yet with that consideration it gains a new layer of resonance. I hope Schafer can forgive me for this reading because this film, and her performance, is fascinating and engaging on so many other levels too, but this was the one which was most personal to me.

The cuckoo is a bird with unusual, and sometimes frightening, behavioural patterns, and Cuckoo itself is no different, but if you’re anything like me (or perhaps an unsuspecting bird parent), you might just find a lot to love about this peculiar creature.

Robyn’s Archive – Cuckoo