Set in Australia after environmental disasters and bushfires have brought the world to a standstill, James Branson’s Bunny Rabbit appropriately shows that living in that post-apocalyptic land wouldn’t be all that fun. The bulk of the runtime is dedicated to showing a father-daughter relationship. They scrounge for supplies, food is scarce, and they’re untrustworthy of any other survivors they run into. Bunny Rabbit has a skeleton crew of a cast but even with so few characters, writer-director James Branson manages to show both the best and the worst of mankind. The central dynamic between Bunny and her father is wonderfully naturalistic, with simple mundane conversations about old music and movies that let the actors breathe. By contrast, the arrival of a crazed intruder eliminates any trace of innocence: this more sinister and crazed character, clearly driven mad by having to survive in the bleak surroundings, stands in stark contrast to the loving father remembering the world that used to exist.
It’s amazing how much references to Ozzy Osbourne and Fleetwood Mac help to ground the film in reality, but they do.
The sense of time and place is easily Bunny Rabbit’s strongest asset, and reminds me of the post-apocalyptic Britain depicted in the 28 Days Later saga. The primitive behaviour and deranged nature of some humans in Bunny Rabbit calls to mind the rogue platoon in the original 2002 film, or the sadism of the Jimmies in the recent Bone Temple, examples of humanity having lost their morality in a desperate situation. Seeing these themes explored in a new setting, with an even smaller cast, is certainly an interesting conceit. However, everything surrounding the centre of Bunny Rabbit feels half-baked and frustratingly unfocused.
The film is certainly unafraid to delve into its bleak post-apocalyptic world, and the first third is a grim and relentless indication of that. CCTV footage of the initial environmental devastation plays out in silence, before we cut to the titular Bunny roaming around desolate landscapes and abandoned warehouses. Without spoiling, at first it’s not quite clear what she’s doing on a couple of occasions, but when the realisation comes, it hits like a ton of bricks. The fall into primitivism is on display here. However, this first third is more effective at establishing a sense of futility than it is a coherent narrative. The pacing feels a little choppy, moving quickly from evocative stillness to sometimes chaotic moments of escalation as Bunny interacts with, or against, survivors she meets on her journey. Kate Wilson delivers a really strong performance as Bunny, even more impressive given this is her feature film debut, and it’s easy to gauge an emotional arc through her, but the first half-an-hour of Bunny Rabbit is a little bit of a mess.
The sense of time and place is easily Bunny Rabbit’s strongest asset, and reminds me of the post-apocalyptic Britain depicted in the 28 Days Later saga.
The middle section is easily my favourite, as it’s by far the most human and relatable. The father-daughter relationship is the main focus of this third, and it’s a simple but effective character drama that sees Bunny’s father raising her in an environment that resembles the ‘old world’ as much as he possibly can. This mainly revolves around luxuries that we would take for granted, like music and physical media (the latter is particularly timely), but as the film is quick to imply, this is just a facade, and tells us a lot more about the father’s state of mental health than it does Bunny’s. For all that this is the most human strand of Bunny Rabbit, the dark avenue that it goes down felt more potent to me, perhaps because of the connections I had established with Bunny and her father.
Unfortunately, Bunny Rabbit fell apart towards the end. I get what it was going for in regards to Bunny’s story, and I get why you’d want to take it down this route, but the storytelling became a bit cluttered, mainly because it becomes difficult to follow Bunny’s thought process when thrust into an ordeal that dominates the film’s third act. This is partly the point, as seeing Bunny grapple with her terrifying predicament is part of the coming-of-age story. However the film seems constantly confused with what it’s trying to say in this conclusion.
The film’s promotional materials seem to ask a lot of very prescient questions – what happens when humanity runs out of food? What happens when our children become unrecognisable? However, when it tries to reach an answer, it almost throws its hands into the air. Plus, the non-linear structure means we already have a fair idea of what has happened, so when it comes to seeing the origins of Bunny the film has little incisive left to say. Therefore, despite an intriguing atmosphere and some strong character-focused storytelling, Bunny Rabbit ends on a bit of a whimper, unable to coalesce its incisive commentary on the future of humanity into a satisfying whole. It certainly looks the part. The film’s depiction of a scorched and dystopian Australia is well-executed, with the location filming in New South Wales working miracles. The film’s commitment to its bleak uncompromising tone and occasionally stomach-churning sequences is admirable, but these sequences are hiding in a film that struggles to tell a propulsive and engaging narrative.
BUNNY RABBIT HAD ITS UK PREMIERE AT FRIGHTFEST 2026
ALEX’S ARCHIVE – BUNNY RABBIT
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