The first time I visited a German restaurant here in Tennessee, I was determined to fully embrace the experience. Scanning the menu, I was eager to order something authentic and pronounce it correctly. While I managed words like Bratwurst and Sauerkraut, I confidently pointed to Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte, assuming it must be a stew or soup. The server paused, suppressing a smile, and gently informed me that I had just ordered Black Forest Cake. Embarrassed but unwilling to admit defeat, I nervously laughed and quipped, “I like to eat dessert first.”

My linguistic missteps didn’t end there — when asked later how I liked my Weißbier, I enthusiastically replied, “Oh, the wheeze beer is great!” The server’s kind-but-pitying smile confirmed I was likely providing the evening’s entertainment. Despite the blunders, I left full of good food and a renewed determination to brush up on my German — though I’m fairly certain my choices and creative pronunciations made me a legend at that restaurant.

Interestingly, my experience of being utterly out of my depth ties closely to the fish-out-of-water story in Cuckoo, a 2024 psychological horror film that follows Gretchen (Hunter Schafer), a 17-year-old girl who is forced to move to the Bavarian Alps to live with her father, Luis (Marton Csokas), and his new family.

Arriving at their new home, they meet Mr. König (Dan Stevens), Luis’ boss, who takes great interest in Gretchen’s mute half-sister, Alma (Mila Lieu). Soon, the tranquility of the resort town is disrupted, as Gretchen finds herself plagued by strange noises and bloody visions until she discovers a shocking secret that involves her family.

Mastering a new language is challenging for me, as I mentioned earlier. You can throw yourself into the deep end and try your best, but success requires focus and intentionality. That key factor — focus — is glaringly absent in Cuckoo. While the film does present an overarching narrative, it bombards the audience with an overwhelming array of horror tropes. It feels as though writer-director Tilman Singer aimed to make a film that was simultaneously scary, unnerving, creepy and campy, resulting in a tonal mishmash.

The first half builds a sense of dread and suspense, creating a promising setup for psychological horror. However, the second half takes a stark tonal shift that undercuts the tension entirely, veering into absurdity and camp. The fear that had been carefully built up dissipates, leaving scenes that should have elicited terror instead provoking laughter. The fact that I found myself chuckling during moments intended to disturb speaks volumes about the film’s lack of cohesion and its struggle to maintain its identity as a horror film.

In the end, like my attempt at learning a language without focus, Cuckoo tries to do too much without mastering any one element, leaving it disjointed and ultimately unsatisfying.

Not even Hunter Schafer’s noteworthy performance could save Cuckoo from its own missteps. Schafer brings an impressive range to the character of Gretchen, making her feel simultaneously vulnerable and heroic. In one moment, she embodies fragility, overwhelmed by the bizarre and menacing world she’s been thrust into, while in the next, she channels the grit and determination of an action hero. Schafer skillfully portrays Gretchen as a multifaceted character — a survivor who rises to the challenge when her family’s safety is on the line. Her portrayal of Gretchen as a reluctant-yet-fierce protector adds depth to a film that sorely lacks focus elsewhere.

Despite the chaos of the narrative, Schafer’s performance manages to shine, giving the audience someone to root for, even as the story spirals into tonal confusion. Her moments of defiance and resolve, particularly in the face of the film’s sinister antagonist, hint at what Cuckoo could have achieved with a tighter script and more cohesive vision. Schafer’s talent is undeniable, but even her compelling portrayal struggles to rise above the film’s structural and tonal flaws.

Cuckoo earns a modest two out of five stars, largely due to its lack of focus and tonal inconsistencies. While Hunter Schafer delivers an impressive performance as Gretchen, bringing depth and resilience to a character caught in a strange and sinister world, the film’s overreliance on clichéd horror tropes and a chaotic mid-way tone shift undermines its potential.

Much like my attempt to confidently order food at a German restaurant, only to stumble through the menu and misidentify dishes, Cuckoo starts with promise but quickly loses its way. The film tries to juggle too many elements — horror, camp and suspense — without fully committing to any, leaving viewers with a disjointed and unsatisfying experience, much like receiving Black Forest Cake when you were expecting stew.