We’re in an era where audiences are starting to sour on heavy, blunt-force, metaphorical horror, especially when seemingly all metaphors lead to trauma. Luckily, the haters can find respite with Cuckoo, just not for the reasons you’d hope. It’s hard to pin down exactly what Cuckoo wants to be about. It’s a movie that doesn’t seem able to decide if it’s really about much of anything.

There are mothers and daughters and references to births and blended families and, of course, blood and vomit and tears. It’s the last box you pack when moving, a hodgepodge of odds and ends you’re pretty sure you didn’t want to leave behind, even if you can’t really remember why.

Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) doesn’t feel like a real part of her family, and maybe that’s why we meet her sitting shotgun in the truck with the movers, while her half-sister, father, and stepmom drive ahead in the station wagon. Hell, even the dog is riding in the car with them. Gretchen’s the odd one out. She lived with her mother after her parents’ divorce. Meanwhile, Dad went out and started a new family. But with her Mom’s death, Gretchen’s dropped in the middle of a new family unit. She doesn’t know how to adapt to them. She’s in a country whose language she doesn’t understand. It all has her feeling more isolated than ever.

After getting a job at the resort her parents’ boss Herr König (Dan Stevens) owns, it becomes increasingly apparent that something is wrong. The doors are locked tight after 10PM. Guests are regularly vomiting in the lobby. Worse, someone (or something) seems to be after Gretchen.

Writer and director Tilman Singer’s second feature is clearly having fun playing with tone, blending bleak sincerity with moments of wry comedy. He keeps us close to his cast, who are having just as much fun leaning in. A series of closeups of Herr König’s hands resting a little too familiarly on a shoulder or his face leaning in a little too close for a chat do more to convey his unsettling nature than any monologue. Watching Stevens really play in the character reminds us that while it’s been 10 years since The Guest, he might just be born to play a horror villain.

Meanwhile, Schafer shows off more of those Euphoria chops playing another teen getting into something way over her head. Singer’s script takes the time to let some of Schafer’s natural wit come out with a few quips bound to make you wish he’d leaned into the humor harder.

Ultimately, Cuckoo straddles a lot of lines, but that might be the problem — the only thing it really seems committed to is obfuscation. 

The more Cuckoo reveals, the less clear it becomes not just what it’s about, but what’s really happening. It’s to the point that you can’t tell whether the mystery and vagueness are supposed to be part of the allure or the filmmakers just didn’t think through the answers to some of the plot’s central questions. This isn’t to suggest that there aren’t answers provided. It’s more that they’re the unsatisfying kind that avoid really digging into the specifics when specifics are all you want.

It’s still an entertaining ride through a bizarre world, but not a knockout horror classic worthy of Stevens and Schafer. As for what the whole thing’s about? I’m not sure even Singer has the answers.

Cuckoo will make going to theatres feel like a trip to a resort beginning August 9.

Cuckoo Trailer: