Run Rabbit Run
It seemed pretty lousy to me. It had a basis that could have worked: a mother with family wounds, a daughter becoming increasingly strange, a grandmother dragging an uncomfortable past, an isolated house and that mixture of grief, guilt, trauma and psychological horror that can so often lead to good results. But here everything felt slow, dull, predictable and much less unsettling than it seemed to promise. More than a nightmare, it ended up feeling like a long session of serious faces and silences that lead almost nowhere.
The worst thing is that the film seems convinced it is building a deep atmosphere, when many times it is only stretching the mystery. There are cold shots, silent rooms, strange looks and a constant feeling that something is not being said, but hiding information is not enough to create tension. For far too long, the story asks for patience while giving almost nothing back. The result is not hypnotic or disturbing, but tedious.
Sarah Snook is good, and probably the best thing here. She has presence, holds the camera and conveys the weariness of a woman who always seems on the edge of breaking. But not even she managed to make me care much about her character. The protagonist is so unhinged, so closed off and so dragged down by trauma that the film ends up depending almost entirely on her collapse, and that collapse did not seem fascinating enough to sustain the whole running time.
Mia, the child, seemed unbearable to me, and not in a good way. I understand that the film wants to make her unsettling, ambiguous, perhaps even threatening through childhood, but many of her scenes pulled me out of the story more than they drew me in. There are films where a strange child can be a tremendous source of unease; here, instead, she often seemed simply like an insistent device reminding us that something is wrong. Her behavior becomes more irritating than disturbing.
The grandmother does not help either. She should be a figure loaded with pain, secrecy and emotional threat, but she seemed even worse to me: a character placed there to increase family discomfort without the film giving her real force. That whole line of past, memory, inherited guilt and buried secrets could have had much more bite. Instead, it advances in a muted way, as if the film confused gravity with depth.
I was also annoyed by how predictable it becomes. I do not need a film to have constant twists, but here the path can be guessed far too soon. The mystery is prolonged, the signs repeat themselves and when the ending arrives I felt no surprise or emotional blow. Rather, the feeling was: of course, it was this. And if a film bases so much of its strength on what it hides, the revelation needs more power than it has here.
Psychological horror about motherhood, childhood and trauma already has much stronger examples. That is why this felt so thin to me. You can feel the shadow of better films, especially in the idea of a mother facing a strange daughter and a guilt returning from the past. But instead of finding a voice of its own, the film seems to move among clichés: rabbit, strange girl, exhausted mother, repressed memories, isolated house, broken family, symbols that want to seem more important than they are.
I would not say it is made without talent. It has careful photography, a gloomy tone and the occasional image that could have worked better inside a stronger film. But the wrapping is far better than the content. Everything seems designed to suggest emotional depth, but when you try to grasp it, there is very little there. The tension does not grow, the characters do not hook you and the story does not justify its solemnity.
I understand those who defend its atmosphere or Snook's performance, because those are the most salvageable aspects. But for me they do not compensate for the general boredom. A slow film can be wonderful if every silence weighs, if every gesture reveals something or if every pause increases discomfort. Here many silences simply feel empty. You can see the intention to make elegant, psychological horror, but it lacks edge, risk and real emotion.
In the end, it remains for me a disappointing, very slow and rather empty film. It did not scare me, move me, surprise me or leave me uneasy; it left me tired. It has a strong actress and a premise that could have offered something, but it gets lost in clichés about trauma, motherhood and guilt without building a truly disturbing experience. The rabbit runs, yes, but the film moves at a tortoise's pace.
The worst thing is that the film seems convinced it is building a deep atmosphere, when many times it is only stretching the mystery. There are cold shots, silent rooms, strange looks and a constant feeling that something is not being said, but hiding information is not enough to create tension. For far too long, the story asks for patience while giving almost nothing back. The result is not hypnotic or disturbing, but tedious.
Sarah Snook is good, and probably the best thing here. She has presence, holds the camera and conveys the weariness of a woman who always seems on the edge of breaking. But not even she managed to make me care much about her character. The protagonist is so unhinged, so closed off and so dragged down by trauma that the film ends up depending almost entirely on her collapse, and that collapse did not seem fascinating enough to sustain the whole running time.
Mia, the child, seemed unbearable to me, and not in a good way. I understand that the film wants to make her unsettling, ambiguous, perhaps even threatening through childhood, but many of her scenes pulled me out of the story more than they drew me in. There are films where a strange child can be a tremendous source of unease; here, instead, she often seemed simply like an insistent device reminding us that something is wrong. Her behavior becomes more irritating than disturbing.
The grandmother does not help either. She should be a figure loaded with pain, secrecy and emotional threat, but she seemed even worse to me: a character placed there to increase family discomfort without the film giving her real force. That whole line of past, memory, inherited guilt and buried secrets could have had much more bite. Instead, it advances in a muted way, as if the film confused gravity with depth.
I was also annoyed by how predictable it becomes. I do not need a film to have constant twists, but here the path can be guessed far too soon. The mystery is prolonged, the signs repeat themselves and when the ending arrives I felt no surprise or emotional blow. Rather, the feeling was: of course, it was this. And if a film bases so much of its strength on what it hides, the revelation needs more power than it has here.
Psychological horror about motherhood, childhood and trauma already has much stronger examples. That is why this felt so thin to me. You can feel the shadow of better films, especially in the idea of a mother facing a strange daughter and a guilt returning from the past. But instead of finding a voice of its own, the film seems to move among clichés: rabbit, strange girl, exhausted mother, repressed memories, isolated house, broken family, symbols that want to seem more important than they are.
I would not say it is made without talent. It has careful photography, a gloomy tone and the occasional image that could have worked better inside a stronger film. But the wrapping is far better than the content. Everything seems designed to suggest emotional depth, but when you try to grasp it, there is very little there. The tension does not grow, the characters do not hook you and the story does not justify its solemnity.
I understand those who defend its atmosphere or Snook's performance, because those are the most salvageable aspects. But for me they do not compensate for the general boredom. A slow film can be wonderful if every silence weighs, if every gesture reveals something or if every pause increases discomfort. Here many silences simply feel empty. You can see the intention to make elegant, psychological horror, but it lacks edge, risk and real emotion.
In the end, it remains for me a disappointing, very slow and rather empty film. It did not scare me, move me, surprise me or leave me uneasy; it left me tired. It has a strong actress and a premise that could have offered something, but it gets lost in clichés about trauma, motherhood and guilt without building a truly disturbing experience. The rabbit runs, yes, but the film moves at a tortoise's pace.
Mini Review: It seemed pretty lousy to me. It had a basis that could have worked: a mother with family wounds, a daughter becoming increasingly strange, a grandmother dragging an uncomfortable past, an isolated house and that mixture of grief, guilt, trauma and psychological horror that can so often lead to good results. But here everything felt slow, dull, predictable and much less unsettling than it seemed to promise. More than a nightmare, it ended up...