Cuckoo is respectably flawed. It establishes drama first, focusing on relationships and motivations which lead to a heartfelt arc. This is all enhanced by Schafer's sincere balance of angst, intensity, charisma, and vulnerability. Because of these properly executed emotions, themes of autonomy, isolation, and family come naturally (even if they're vague). However, the writing fumbles the plot. Its mystery reveal is a solid genre metaphor but jumbled in application. The third act oddly switches into full-blown camp, which the script struggles to reconcile. Still, there's steadying setup/payoff, symbolism, and tension throughout. Consequently, Cuckoo is redeemable.
Similarly, Cuckoo has fragmented but polished craft. Its direction tries to blend arthouse with camp. Lighting, framing, focus, and angles foster vivid cinematography. Besides patient pacing, the editing is defined by hallucinogenic jump cut sequences. Its sound adds a distinct siren call, smash cuts, split cuts, distortions, and genre elements. The eclectic music combines trendy, classical, a bass motif, and unsettling strings. Its production design evokes isolation through a remote setting and 70s decor. The cast is led by Schafer's rising fame. Its effects offer blood, prosthetics, makeup, and brief CGI. Despite being a slightly missed opportunity, Cuckoo has merit.
Writing: 6/10
Direction: 7/10
Cinematography: 8/10
Acting: 8/10
Editing: 8/10
Sound: 9/10
Score/Soundtrack: 8/10
Production Design: 8/10
Casting: 7/10
Effects: 7/10
Overall Score: 7.6/10
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