CUCKOO. Even from its opening frames, this struck me as the kind of living relic that will (or should) reward some horror nerd, years from now, who discovers it without foreknowledge or judgment. Which is an admittedly reductive way to address a movie that in real time yields its own rewards, conflicting though they might occasionally be. But really, I mean it as high praise, as recently addicted as I have become to cinematic crate-digging and the joy of unearthing previously unknown surprises.
Maybe what I mean is that Cuckoo, written and directed by Tilman Singer, feels like a work displaced in time. A beautifully rendered science-horror about grief and family and loneliness, suffused with mostly delicious dread and deferred relief, the movie does not seem to fit with any of the recent strictures for wide release and mass acceptance. The fact that it seems to have found both strikes me as a potential sign of good things to come, but optimism has never been my strong suit.
Cuckoo is truly weird, even by my cracked standard. While it may not be completely successful in everything it sets out to achieve, its style and strength of conviction are reminiscent of a presumably bygone era of experimentation and investment therein. And for that, I can only celebrate it.
Following an unprocessed trauma, 17-year-old Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) reluctantly joins her father (Marton Csokas), stepmother (Jessica Henwick) and 8-year-old stepsister (Mila Lieu) as they relocate to a remote German mountain lodge. The proprietor, Herr Konig (a delightfully bizarre Dan Stevens) has contracted the couple, with whom he obviously has some history, to design a new addition to the resort. As a “favor,” he also offers Gretchen a job working in reception, which she quickly accepts, if only to free herself of the awkwardness of her not-quite family. Almost immediately, she begins to understand that things are amiss in and around Schloss Konig, including but not limited to semi-conscious guests vomiting in the lobby and a possibly unhinged woman in a raincoat stalking the margins.
As I mentioned at the top, the design and execution of Cuckoo as a work of art are truly formidable. Shot with a painterly attention to detail and a reverence for its striking environs, the movie is as compelling to look at, from a purely aesthetic vantage, as anything I’ve seen this year. But Singer’s stylistic ambitions — and successes —quickly eclipse the narrative’s ability to live up to them. Schaefer does a tremendous job of holding the narrative center of the piece, and her shared scenes with Stevens, who stops just short of acting his way into another picture altogether, offer a psychological stew rich with the umami of pathos and injury and bad intent.
On first watch, there is much more to like than to complain about. But it still suggests a more complete version of itself, one with a further refined narrative to match its almost unassailable technical execution.
And so, my great hope is that some new brand of movie-head, decades from now, might rescue it from obscurity and celebrate its weirdness; the future may be kinder than the present. R. 102M.
THE INSTIGATORS. Speaking of found objects from the cinematic past, the last few years have served us a handful of heist movies — with varying degrees of success — and none of them have made it to theaters; maybe don’t fact-check that one. Point being, what was once a can’t-miss opportunity for excitement and exercises in style has been relegated, at least for the time being, to streaming services of disparate repute. In this case, Apple (which apparently nobody watches) has quietly rolled one out with a clever script, some movie stars, a murderer’s row of a supporting cast and a director who (mostly) knows how to make an action movie. I wonder if anybody but me even cares.
Written by Casey Affleck and Chuck Maclean, directed by Doug Liman (this year’s misbegotten Roadhouse, among other more successful ventures) it stars Affleck, Matt Damon, Hong Chau, Michael Stuhlbarg, Alfred Molina, Ving Rhames, Paul Walter Hauser, Toby Jones and Ron Perlman. The Instigators puts a couple of down-on-their-luck Boston criminals at the center of an election heist turned chase picture that, with a fresh perspective on its characters and a decidedly modern style, harkens back to the peak of the genre. It is also very much a Boston movie.
While there are serious subjects alluded to here (mental health, alcoholism, broken families, political graft), the writing of the piece balances humor, sadness and desperation with a charming lightness, rendering a reluctant buddy-action-comedy movie that succeeds because it never tries to be something it is not, or cannot be. R. 101M. APPLE TV+.
John J. Bennett (he/him) is a movie nerd who loves a good car chase.
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For showtimes call: Broadway Cinema (707) 443-3456; Mill Creek Cinema 839-3456; Minor Theatre (707) 822-3456.
