PREMIERE.COM REVIEW (posted 7/11/03)

A chapter in the second World War often forgotten in Western history books, the battle between the Axis-sympathetic Finnish troops and the Allied Russian forces continued well after the German surrender. In the Russian production Cuckoo, the action takes place in northern Lapland, one of the most geographically isolated parts of the world, where the two groups fought some of their fiercest battles. This separation from the European mainland and civilization explains why fighting continued after the Nazi defeat, and propels the narrative of Cuckoo, which starts as a war film but quickly morphs into a study of wilderness survival.

Veikko (Ville Haapasalo), a Finnish sniper and pacifist, is deserted by his troop, chained to a rock, and dressed in a Nazi uniform, left to fend for himself against animals, hunger, and the approaching Russian infantry. At the same time, the Russian soldier Ivan (Viktor Bychkov) barely survives a bombing that wipes out all of his traveling companions. Eventually the two soldiers find themselves together and relying on Anni (Anni-Christina Juuso), a Sami farmer whose resourcefulness with the nature around her makes her an indispensable tool for the soldiers' survival. They make an odd group — three languages, three cultures, and three positions on the war — living together despite their suspicions of one another. Isolation forces them to make a unique bond as they fish and sleep side by side in Anni’s primitive camp.

Cuckoo is best described as arthouse-lite. The tale moves so briskly that it fails to address any of the history or social implications that arise from this lesser-known part of history. Still, the film has its charm, mostly found in its lead characters, who engage in harmless hijinks due to their language and cultural differences. Cuckoo's opening scenes move with a buoyant confidence, thanks to writer and director Aleksandr Rogozhkin, who blends the story’s tragic and comic tones seamlessly.

A humanistic, "feel-good" film, Cuckoo can be boiled down as a story of unlikely friendships. But by the time the credits roll, something is missing: a statement, a conflict, anything to resonate once the lights go up. A story with such an interesting context and setting should not need to rush from plot point to plot point. Instead, director Rogozhkin should have lingered on the actions of his characters as they attempt to escape the brutality of the conflict that tore Europe apart.

— Addison MacDonald