‘Cuckoo’ Review: Never Has a Movie Been More Aptly Named

“Is this normal?” a bewildered hotel guest in “Cuckoo” inquires after witnessing a fellow guest stagger, vomiting, into the lobby. Viewers might be wondering the same thing about a movie whose title could reveal as much about the sensibility of its director as the nature of its plot.

Possessed of a singular, at times inexplicable vision, the German filmmaker Tilman Singer proves once again — after his experimental debut, “Luz” (2019) — that he’s more drawn to sensation than sense. Liberated from logic, his pictures dance on the border between bewitching and baffling, exciting and irksome. Sidling several steps closer to an identifiable plot, “Cuckoo” flaps around Gretchen (an excellent Hunter Schafer), a grieving, unsettled 17-year-old whose mother has died and whose father (Marton Csokas) has brought her to live with his new family in a resort in the Bavarian Alps.

From the moment she arrives, nothing seems quite right. Missing her mother and her life in America, Gretchen is slow to connect with her brisk stepmother (Jessica Henwick) and her much younger half sister, Alma (Mila Lieu), who is mute and suffers from unexplained seizures. Adding to Gretchen’s uneasiness is the resort’s touchy-feely owner, Herr König (Dan Stevens), who seems weirdly fixated on Alma. Strange screechings fill the woods, and a frightening figure in white appears to be stalking Gretchen as she walks home from her job at the resort’s reception desk. Maybe that switchblade we saw her unpack will come in handy, after all.

A tale of human-avian experimentation with phantasmagoric flourishes, “Cuckoo” is unsubtle and frequently unhinged. The narrative may be blurred, but the mood is pure freak show, and Stevens, bless him, immediately grasps the comic possibilities of the movie’s themes and the nuttiness of his character. Reprising his flawless German accent from the charming 2021 sci-fi romance “I’m Your Man,” he gives König a seductive creepiness that’s less mad scientist than horny ornithologist. Obsessed with replicating — in unspeakable ways — the breeding behaviors of the titular bird, König requires the cooperation of willing young women. Gretchen is not eager to become one of them.

Shooting on 35-millimeter film, Paul Faltz, backed by Simon Waskow’s whining, fidgety score, leans into the surreality of Gretchen’s predicament with bizarre close-ups. Ears jerk and twitch in response to mysterious calls; throats flutter with a rapid, stuttering pulse; slimy secretions are passed from one woman to another. And as the resort’s dangers escalate and Gretchen’s injuries multiply, the film’s bonkers, body-horror ambitions become the means by which she will overcome her grief and heal her emotional dislocation.

All this gives “Cuckoo” a strange, lusty vigor that’s hugely entertaining. Singer might still be finding his narrative footing, but there’s a playfulness and novelty to his weirdness that deserve encouragement. Perhaps absorbing some of the criticism of “Luz,” he is offering us more plot to hold on to — even if said plot is as cuckoo as König himself.

“Mother will be harder to control without a nestling around,” König complains when one disturbed young woman runs off. With dialogue like that, who needs logic?

Cuckoo
Rated R for icky secretions and freaky experiments. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. In theaters.