Bunny Lake is Missing (1965)


Let’s face it, we are the instant gratification generation. Jaded, greedy and taking everything we have at our fingertips for granted. I’m not going to get all moral on your arses, simply because one, I don’t give a rat’s one about your mortal souls, and two, you wouldn’t be reading this blog without it, but … it’s something to think about right ..

If you want to…

In other ways it’s a blessing, crimes are much easier to solve (incompetent policemen and bureaucracy aside), and the growing Orwellian culture of CCTV, the slimy Go Go gadget tentacles of the interweb and paranoia means that it’s quite difficult to make things (evidence of your wrong doing) or people disappear. However, in the olden days (pre broadband and beyond), as I’m led to believe by Inspector Clouseau and the Keystone Cops; running down a dark alleyway was enough to get the police off the scent and you home free.

Bunny Lake is missing (you may have gleaned that from the title already). Her mother Ann and her uncle Steven are frantic. She’s only four and has disappeared without a trace from her school in the middle of London, where her family has recently located to. The problem is that there is no evidence of her existence anywhere, and there is doubt that the child is little more than a product of her mother’s crazy, luckily though, there is plenty of that to be found in nearly everyone else around her. Suspects, suspects everywhere, but is there actually a victim?

This is a psychological horror with a cast that most directors would wet themselves over. Sir Laurence of freaking Olivier takes the lead as the man trying to find out just what the funk is occurring with this strange set up and Noel Coward at his absolute best as the landlord that would make your skin crawl off your bones faster than he can say ‘BBC’.
What makes this one of the most chilling films I’ve ever seen is the fact that it really doesn’t seem like too far of a stretch of the imagination, yet the strangeness of the setting, coupled with the ethereal qualities of the sibling leads, delivers a creeping, crawling sensation of panic that explodes into a crescendo of madness that rivals Hitchcock at his peak with its intensity.

Rumour has it that this is one in a long line of classic film’s about to be given the Hollywood rework, so take in the original in all its glory, before your minds get tainted by the substandard corporate clones, recent remakes have taught us to expect.

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This entry was posted in critique, film and media, horror, opinion, pop culture, rant, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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