THE CUCKOO Rating: (out of 5 stars) Director: Alexander Rogozhkin Producer: Sergie Selyanov Writer: Alexander Rogozhkin Director of Photography: Andrei Zhegalov Cast: Anni-Kristiina Juuso, Ville Haapasalo, Viktor Bychkov Visit the IMDB page for full cast and crew

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Review by: Warren Curry
7/6/03

The Cuckoo is the rare anti-war movie that doesn't come off hopelessly politicized or exaggeratedly melodramatic. Set near the end of World War II, Alexander Rogozhkin's film about three people united by circumstance, yet divided by a language barrier, is unassuming and quietly observed. Its pacing and narrative construction is unmistakably European, and those lacking a taste for foreign arthouse fare won't be converted here. Others should be impressed by Rogozhkin's detailed storytelling, which equally balances the dramatic contribution of both small and large events.

Two of the three main characters in The Cuckoo are soldiers whose compatriots have turned against them. Veiko (Ville Haapasalo) is a sniper for the Nazi-allied Finnish army, but is believed to be a pacifist, thus he is shackled and bound to a rock in a Lapland (northern Finland) forest clad in a German uniform -- a dangerous outfit to be wearing when Russian soldier's have been given orders to shoot Germans on site. Apparently not a fan of narrative shortcuts, Rogozhkin shows us in an elaborate group of scenes the painstaking nature of the abandoned Veiko's quest to free himself…which he finally does.

The other soldier is a disgraced Russian army captain, Ivan (Viktor Bychkov), who is being held captive by his country's military police. Through his rifle's telescope, Veiko witnesses the accidental bombing of the vehicle (by Russian planes) that is transporting Ivan. It appears that all three passengers have been killed.

Enter Anni (Anni-Kristiina Juuso), a Lapp reindeer farmer who has been living alone in the remote forest ever since her husband was drafted into the Finnish army four years earlier. While searching for food, she happens across the bodies of the Russians and discovers that Ivan is still alive. Anni brings the man back to her hut, and using a series of unorthodox remedies is able to nurse him to health.

A bit later, Veiko, in search of a way to remove his shackles, comes across Anni's farm. This sets up a peculiar situation: three people, none of whom speak the same language (for clarification, Anni speaks a language called Sami, not Finnish), and two who are on opposite sides of the war, are forced to co-exist in a rather tense atmosphere.

Adding to the language issue are characters, who, in many ways, couldn't be more different. For Veiko the war is over. Having been a college student at the time of his entry into the military, one gets the feeling he was never a huge proponent of the cause he was fighting for. On the other hand, Ivan still harbors a deep hatred for "the enemy" -- an animosity Veiko is only vaguely aware exists. Having been affected by the war, but living out of harm's way, Anni's self-sufficient agenda is entirely different. In the soldiers she sees two men who she can put to work around her home, and also an end to the absence of sexual interaction in her life.

Rogozhkin strings together a variety of whimsical comic scenarios, and transitions fluidly to scenes that focus on his broader concerns. The director balances the tones gracefully, although the proceedings become too light on occasion. The problem some will have with The Cuckoo is the needlessly slow pace it can get bogged down with. As a whole, the film moves along well enough, but there are a few meandering scenes, where shots seems stuck on repeat, that really test the patience. One more trip to the editing room may not have been a bad idea.

To enhance the mood via the less is more school of thought, Rogozhkin just about completely dispenses with a score. The film can be so quiet at times that it creates a jolt in the few instances when music appears. Rogozhkin's style leans towards naturalism, but is not in any way consumed by it. You know there's a director driving this film, and you're aware that there is a point he's trying to make.

Not a polemical exercise by any means, The Cuckoo is a humanistic and, strangely enough, somewhat pleasant meditation on the consequences of war. Rogozhkin conveys his message without forcing it down your throat, utilizing a delicate touch that may not be bombastic enough to appeal to some -- their loss.

(A Sony Pictures Classics release. Opens in New York and Los Angeles on July 11, 2003. Expands to more cities at later dates.)