Director Daina Reid creates an impressive atmosphere in Run Rabbit Run, the Australian horror-thriller currently available for streaming on Netflix. With an outstanding performance by Sarah Snook from Succession, Run Rabbit Run almost joins the ranks of great “creepy kid” movies. However, the film’s screenplay structure works against itself, resulting in a scattered and repetitive narrative that fails to fully capitalize on its central premise until the final moments.
The movie opens with a dreamlike sequence that has little relevance to the story’s symbolism. From there, Run Rabbit Run unfolds as an unsettling domestic drama. Sarah (played by Snook), a blunt and single mother, is preparing for her daughter Mia’s seventh birthday party. Unexpectedly, a rabbit appears on their doorstep alongside a birthday card from Sarah’s estranged mother, Joan. Sarah is still grappling with the recent death of her father and the emotional weight it brings. Things become even more complicated when Mia, after insisting on keeping the rabbit, starts asking— and ultimately demanding— to meet Joan, whom she has never met or been told about.
Mia’s strange behavior escalates, as she claims to “miss” Joan and possesses intimate knowledge about Sarah’s concealed past (which remains unknown to the audience until late in the film). Sarah instinctively blames Mia’s father for this mysterious knowledge, thereby preventing her from seeking his assistance when her parenting struggles intensify. Furthermore, Sarah hesitates to seek professional help for Mia or herself as the situation becomes more concerning.
Much of the movie’s drama relies on Snook’s outstanding performance, which becomes increasingly distraught as Mia becomes consumed by her fantasies. Director Daina Reid incorporates various subtleties throughout the first half of the film, such as frigid color correction, anticipation created through dark negative spaces, and the perfectly timed blowing of a white curtain when Mia jokingly mentions a ghost. However, these setups often lead to unsatisfying or nonexistent payoffs.
The main issue lies in the fact that the audience is kept in the dark about Sarah’s past, while every other character in the film possesses more information. The dramatic tension between Sarah and Mia, conveyed through the concerned gazes of a mother realizing her daughter is heading down an unconventional path, depends on both characters having the full picture or at least one of them trying to gauge the other’s knowledge. However, the opacity of the script hinders the audience’s ability to empathize or connect with Sarah beyond her dismissive reactions whenever the sensitive subject is broached.
Although Sarah’s prickliness is intriguing, her questionable parenting lacks thematic ties to her estrangement from her own mother, a dynamic that is rarely explored. Eventually, the film loses its focus and purpose, becoming its own mystery. Scenes fall into a repetitive rhythm, with Mia making outlandish claims, running off while her mother gives chase, and something mildly spooky happening—either within the frame or off-screen—before the cycle begins anew.
These frustrations amplify when the movie struggles to determine the best way to visually represent Mia’s past invocations and whose perspective the story should prioritize. It abruptly shifts between being a creepy kid movie, a ghost story, and a tale of a woman losing her sanity. Unfortunately, none of these horror elements are given enough time to emotionally resonate. Each plot unfolds like parallel stories that are abruptly merged together, with their literal and symbolic components rarely working in harmony. As a result, the film’s impact is constantly undermined by its own indecisiveness.