A down-on-her-luck prostitute’s (Rodleen Getsic) painful existence takes a serious left turn into Hell when she is abducted by a psychotic trucker (Jeff Renfro) who chains her in the back of his 18-wheeler to do with as he pleases. It’s a 76-minute assault on the senses and the soul, one that injects moments of such incredible intensity and honesty into its opening act that when I first viewed the film in 2013, I had already cleared a spot for it on my list of “most impressive releases of the year” before it had reached the 20-minute mark.
After her nameless character (listed as “Bunny” in the credits) falls into the thick-fingered clutches of Renfro’s monster, we spend the rest of our time trading off between the agonizing events that take place inside the truck trailer’s barren interior and additional torment out in the deserted exteriors of a remote salvage yard.
We also spend more time with the cipher that is “Hog” (Renfro), learning of his past through flashbacks and mumbled transmissions through the CB radio, and it is only here that our emotional investment begins to flag slightly. The monotony of abuse dulls our sensibilities; much like the middle act of Pascal Laugier’s Martyrs, relentlessly dwelling on the victim’s discomfort dissipates its power, inexorably lessening the impact.
Rehmeier, who conceived the story with Getsic (inspired partially by her own real-life kidnapping), captures the nightmarish scenario in beautifully shot black-and-white, and it is his gorgeous cinematography, ferocious sound design and music (Rehmeier again, as Harrasor), machine-gun editing (I would not be surprised to learn there are several thousands of cuts over the brief running time) and fearless cast’s committed performances which elevate Bunny Game above much of the artless no-budget cinema invading the market. It’s far from a perfect film, but it’s a brave, honest, and uncompromising one, which carries a lot of weight and packs an enormous punch.
This is not a movie for everyone, or perhaps even the majority of horror enthusiasts – it kicks off with a full contact bout of graphic oral sex and goes into darker territory from there. Nevertheless, it’s an impressive feature debut for all involved, astonishingly bleak and bold.
In a just world, Getsic would have been showered with accolades and statuettes from every critics’ circle and institution. It’s truly one of the rawest, most lived-in performances I’ve ever seen, in or outside of the horror genre. The actress (because, lest we forget, that’s what she is) gives over completely to the role, suffering onscreen beatings and brandings, and keeps coming back for more.
Her slow devolution from soul-crushed hooker to a crazed creature in the face of unending torture is breathtaking. Sadly, this remains her only listed credit, outside of a bit part in Lewis Teague’s final film, Charlotta-TS (2010). It’s possible that she exorcised every demon she had and decided to move on. Wherever she is, we thank her for her courage and talent and wish her well.
Renfro, who has spent many years in the Hollywood industry as a transportation caption, clearly knows his way around the truck (which he provided, no small boon). In his first onscreen role in front of the camera, he is equally compelling at first, all whiskey-voiced brute charm, but his antagonism grows more tiresome and performance-like as the clock ticks by. While it is true that he’s putting on a show to terrorize his captive, the face-making and taunting eventually loses some of its bite.
Drettie Page also deserves kudos for her abbreviated but no less intense sequences as one of Hog’s former captors (billed as “The Martyr”). The real-life suffering that she endures serves as a painful presage for what we fear will also happen to Bunny, and the scenes are brutal to watch. It’s another incredibly brave and raw performance; it’s also Page’s sole listed onscreen credit.
The Bunny Game, now available in a Collector’s Edition from Jinga Films, comes with a limited amount of supplements. In addition to the teaser and trailer, the only other extra is the 15-min doc “Caretaking the Monster.” However, it is absolutely the kind of essential “Okay, that was just a movie” post-viewing catharsis that the viewer genuinely needs in order to sleep at night. We get to see Getsic, Renfro, Page, and Rehmeier as genuinely artistic human beings who had faith in their creative process, and aspired to produce something truly original and authentic. For my money, they succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest dreams (or nightmares).
I’m thrilled that Jinga has seized the opportunity to re-release the film on its 15th anniversary of completion for a new generation of fans to discover. It’s always rewarding to see true independents given their rightful seat at the table. One is lucky to find one such example of visionary filmmaking, and I look forward to see what these courageous champions of confrontational cinema offer up next.
You can pick up The Bunny Game from MVD Visual HERE
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