If you don’t know much about rabbits—aside from their adorable appearance—an anecdote you’ll learn in *Bunnylovr* (the debut feature film from writer-director Katarina Zhu) might just break your heart. It turns out that when rabbits experience significant stress or a sudden surge of fear, they can go into shock: their soft bodies go limp, their floppy ears turn cold, and—without care—they can even die.
Rest assured: there is no need to fear any macabre rabbit deaths in this intimate yet lighthearted portrait that Zhu paints of Rebecca—a Chinese-American cam-girl living in New York, portrayed with delicate nuance by the director herself. Nevertheless, existential angst and visceral pangs of panic quietly (and symbolically) permeate the entire film as Rebecca navigates between her dead-end day job—a position as a personal assistant—and her nocturnal alter ego: that of an online sex worker. These anxieties do not manifest explicitly, but rather through a sense of confinement and solitude in which Rebecca seems trapped—realities that Zhu and her cinematographer, Daisy Zhou, capture through stifling, claustrophobic framing.
Director: Katarina Zhu
Writer: Katarina Zhu
Stars: Katarina Zhu, Austin Amelio, Perry Yung
In a way, Zhu’s excessively tight framing feels somewhat redundant in *Bunnylovr*, given that the spaces—both physical and emotional—that Rebecca inhabits already convey her isolation with striking clarity. Nevertheless, the close-ups intensify when she makes the acquaintance—online—of the mysterious John (the formidable Austin Amelio, seen in *Hit Man*): a client who doesn’t hesitate to generously slip her 500 dollars for a private session every now and then. Eventually, this stranger insists on sending her a gift. "It will help you feel less lonely," he urges. "Take good care of it."
And so, the rabbit heralded by the film’s title makes its entrance: an adorable little ball of dark-eyed fluff that Rebecca receives in the mail—and whom she names "Milk" once she decides to keep him. Already struggling to make ends meet, she initially protests, arguing that she simply cannot look after a pet in her current situation. Yet, she also stops short of categorically refusing the gift. After all, feeling a little less lonely might not be such a bad thing. And besides—is it really that difficult to share one’s home with an adorable little rabbit? Meanwhile, Rebecca divides her free time between her best friend, Bella (Rachel Sennott), and her father, William (Perry Yung)—who is terminally ill and from whom she has long been estranged. The former is a painter from a more privileged background, for whom Rebecca poses in loosely scripted scenes that offer brief glimpses into their friendship. The latter re-enters her life following a chance encounter, with William determined to devote the little time he has left to rebuilding his bond with his daughter.
Zhu demonstrates keen insight as she probes Rebecca’s loneliness, observing her as she navigates the various facets of her existence in a state of emotional isolation. Indeed, the filmmaker is at her most incisive when *Bunnylovr* examines Rebecca’s psyche as a young woman who never knew the relative simplicity of the pre-internet world—and who must reconcile, with thoughtful caution, the strange intersection of her online and offline relationships. Gradually, every relationship in Rebecca’s life becomes a delicate enigma—particularly the one with the mysterious John, a tempting presence that is at once charming and unsettling.
It doesn’t take much effort to spot the red flags: one need only ask what kind of person would send a rabbit to a complete stranger. Yet, John’s unsettling aura still manages to exceed even the worst expectations when he begins asking Rebecca for strangely fetishistic favors: "Lie down, place the rabbit on your stomach, move it lower and lower." The most harrowing video session occurs when John asks her to perform an act that could harm the defenseless creature. But will Rebecca go through with it, or will she simply refuse outright?
The introspection this question sparks in Rebecca proves fascinatingly rich, touching upon concepts such as consent, personal boundaries, and the abuse of power. However, Zhu fails to extract anything truly interesting from this line of inquiry, contenting herself with merely alluding to it briefly before abandoning it. Furthermore, the latent threat Zhu instills breathes new life into *Bunnylovr* when Rebecca decides to meet John in person.
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