happy bunnies

A bunny masked serial killer is running rampant on the streets of England, slaughtering local perverts, sex pests and kinky bastards. At the same time, a young man sits down for a glass of wine with his therapist. Patrick McConnell’s Happy Little Bunnies is two movies in one – part lurid slasher film, part conversation between two men, setting the world to rights. Those expecting more of the former may be disappointed by the extent of the latter – but there’s never a dull moment. “We know it’s uncomfortable to have something shoved up your arse,” one of the men muses. “The larger the object shoved up an arse, the more painful it is.” Dull moments? Certainly not, with dialogue like that.

And this therapy session is building to something too, if you and John (Jon Scott-Carl) have the patience to stick with it until then. As their conversation continues, it twists and turns, ever darker, until it’s therapist Carl (magnetic Frankie Boyle lookalike Simon Manley) who’s making the big revelations. And quite possibly in need of therapy himself. As an exploration of British self-loathing and repression, it (and Carl) has plenty to say. Which is more than can be said for its most notable female character (Sophie Toland), suffering through the longest ball gag sequence in a Brit flick since The Disappearance of Alice Creed. Many of the film’s observations are fairly surface-level and not all that original, but they’re put so bluntly that it can’t help but raise a smile or two.

McConnell’s theatre background is evident in this independent slasher slash black comedy drama, which is essentially one long conversation with breaks for the bunnyman (not that one) to slice up a few sleazeballs. Not very cinematic, but the few set-pieces that there are – murder via glory hole, a massacre in an S&M joint – should stick with viewers for a while. The conversation? Love it or hate it, that’ll be stuck up there even longer.