Run Rabbit Run, 2023.
Directed by Daina Reid.
Starring Sarah Snook, Lily LaTorre, Greta Scacchi, and Damon Herriman.
SYNOPSIS:
Sarah Snook plays a fertility doctor who believes firmly in life and death, but after noticing the strange behavior of her young daughter, must challenge her own values and confront a ghost from her past.
While getting a feel for the central character of director Daina Reid’s (collaborating with screenwriter Hannah Kent) Run Rabbit Run, a story of buried trauma, one quickly concludes that whatever baggage fertility doctor mother Sarah (Sarah Snook) is dealing with doesn’t change that she comes across like a terrible person. Dear reader, no joke, the second this thought cemented in my mind, seven-year-old daughter Mia (Lily LaTorre) shouts, “you’re a terrible person” at her mother. Who can disagree? And how does any of that make this movie interesting or worth watching, especially considering it sometimes feels cruel and exploitative of trauma rather than meaningfully harsh?
There’s not much to contemplate here, as Run Rabbit Run follows Sarah grieving the loss of her father, which, in turn, awakens tragedy from the past. She’s divorced from Mia’s father (Damon Herriman), although she allows him and his new partner to visit for her birthday. It ends disastrously. Sarah also becomes increasingly convinced that Mia is being bullied at school, a feeling that only deepens once she comes across the mother of all generic creepy child clichés; ominous drawings. After a visit to Sarah’s mom, now suffering from dementia, Mia learns of a mysterious Alice and pretends to be her over time. As a result, the script pushes Mia to become overwhelmingly and inorganically annoying, putting us on no one’s side in the story.
It’s safe to say that most viewers will catch on to what’s happening early on in the film, which leaves one only moderately admiring the South Australia locale and its vast stretches of nothingness, a pair of performances that are dialed up to 11 and going for it that they are somewhat entertaining to observe despite the overblown theatrics, and the admittedly eerie and tense score from Mark Bradshaw and Marcus Whale. More frustratingly, Run Rabbit Run has no idea what to fill that time with beyond a bundle of cheap and loud jump scares that keep the actors equally obnoxious, even if they are trying to make the most of this mess of hysteria.
Then there are some truly head-scratching character decisions, such as Sarah’s decision to take Mia to her childhood home for a few days. Understandably, this film is about processing grief and trauma, but this choice plays out as a contrived way to distill information to certain characters. The only upside is that it does cause a change of scenery, which is one of the few bright spots here. Also, if you’re wondering why the movie is called Run Rabbit Run, there’s a helping of forced animal symbolism.
Nearly everything about Run Rabbit Run is more than basic because the filmmakers can’t even be bothered to put a fresh spin or creative twist on those tropes. Instead, they go the opposite direction by executing them in a stunningly uninspired fashion. Somehow, from Sundance to Netflix is appropriate because tending to housework with this on in the background, waiting for something scary or exciting to happen, is the only way to watch it. Even then, the movie only achieves a misplaced and offputting sense of nastiness.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
