RABBIT TRAP Gets Lost in the Post-A24 Fairy Realm

Rabbit Trap is a visually satisfying film with a some interesting elements to play with and no propulsion whatsoever. Starring Rosy McEwen and Dev Patel as an experimental noise musician and her sound designer husband, first-timer Bryn Chainey weaves Welsh folktales, ‘70s-period touches, and light psychedelia into a story about familial grief that finds itself adrift in a sea of artful cinematography, layered sound, and elliptical editing. Thematically (as well as visually), it’s somewhere between Enys Men, Mother of Flies, and The Other Lamb; aesthetically, it’s all A24, one of the myriad folk horror films to follow in the footsteps of 2010s hits like The Witch and ‘70s classics like The Wicker Man. After a decade of horror in this vein, though, the tropes themselves can easily become overly familiar, no matter how competent the filmmaker; at a certain point, a center-framed shot of a mushroom just doesn’t hit like it used to. In the face of this kind of folkloric morass, the story in each of the latest genre offerings really has to shine.  

It’s in the narrative department that Rabbit Trap never quite succeeds. Patel and McEwen make Daphne and Darcy an endearing couple even with the thin characterizations they’re given. Early scenes of field recording sessions and bubble baths are rendered intimately as the pair settles into a “boring” life between years as touring musicians. Intrigue builds when a young nameless child (Jade Croot) begins worming his way into their life, filling their minds with fairytales and their bellies with wild rabbits and strange, freshly gathered herb teas. Is the couple being ensnared by an evil force? Have they been already? Are they rabbits being groomed for slaughter? Where does this world end and the fairy world begin? Croot, for her part, is unfortunately one-note as this mayhaps-fey intruder, though the fault also lies in the script, whose somnambulistic pacing keeps the actor spinning her wheels for far too long. The story’s play with time is subtly rendered, but structurally obvious. As the couple’s seduction by this creature progresses, the movie deflates, becoming predictable. 

Folk horror fatigue aside, the film’s more surrealistic, darkly whimsical visuals–– particularly in the third act–– are the film’s standouts. Sonic waveforms and avian murmurations blend, milk bottles melt, snails ride skipping records in slow circles as moss grows over the windowpanes. It’s in these moments and in Chainey’s direction of his actors that the film’s obvious promise jumps out most. There’s a good film somewhere in Rabbit Trap, it’s just caught in the genre’s fairy realm.