RUN RABBIT RUN

Here's the honest read. This is a Netflix psychological thriller with a genuinely powerful theme — grief, guilt, and the way a buried past reaches into the present — anchored by a captivating performance from Sarah Snook. When she's on screen, it's hard to look away.

But the film falls short of its own idea. The script is poorly executed, the storylines are unclear, and the result never lands with the force it's reaching for. What holds it together is Snook, young Lily LaTorre beside her, an eerie string score, and striking scenery.

It also earns extreme caution. There's strong foul language and menacing violence, some of it involving children, and the darkness may be distressing or triggering. So: if you're an adult or older teen drawn to serious thrillers, this is a home watch you can take or leave — and one to skip entirely if scenes of harm to a child would wound you.

Sarah is a single mother, still grieving the recent loss of her father, trying to make her daughter Mai's seventh birthday memorable. Then a mysterious rabbit appears on their doorstep, and Mai forms a bond with it — even fashioning a homemade rabbit mask.

Soon Mai's behavior turns stranger still. She begins calling herself "Alice," the name of Sarah's long-lost sister, who vanished at the very age Mai is now. Mai insists on meeting an estranged grandmother she's never known. As Sarah searches for the truth, her own hidden past begins to surface — and that's where we'll stop.

Three stars, and here's what they mean: a film carried almost entirely by its cast rather than its script. Sarah Snook's performance as the mother is outstanding — she hits every beat flawlessly and draws you in even when the movie around her wavers. Lily LaTorre matches her as the daughter, and the eerie string score and captivating scenery keep you present.

The trouble is the writing. The premise is intriguing, but the storylines are unclear and never find solid footing. The film reaches for the lasting impact of unresolved trauma and the destructive nature of lies, yet a lack of depth leaves it underwhelming. What could have been haunting settles for merely uneven — a movie you admire in pieces more than as a whole.

For all its darkness, this thriller carries a strong moral, socially conservative worldview. At its heart is a cautionary tale — how the lies we bury don't stay buried, and how unresolved guilt corrodes the present. The film even reaches toward images of resurrection. That instinct is sound: sin and secrecy don't simply vanish, and the story treats deception as something that genuinely wounds a family.

Where it stumbles is not in what it believes but in how thinly it explores it. The film gestures at the destructive nature of lies without ever finding the depth to make the lesson land. Sarah's whole tragedy grows from a truth she has hidden — and the movie's own conviction is that hiding it was the ruin.

Scripture says as much, plainly. "Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy" (Proverbs 28:13). The film knows the danger of the buried lie; it can only hint at the mercy that answers it.

There's a strong idea and a magnetic lead performance here, but the script never lets either bloom — and the violence, especially toward a child, makes this one to approach carefully. If you're an adult drawn to dark thrillers, this is one to wait for home — adults only, where you control the room. Looking for something the whole family can enjoy instead? Try our latest family-friendly picks.