Bunny Lake Is Missing (UK, 1965) 107 min B&W DIR-PROD: Otto Preminger. SCR: John Mortimer, Penelope Mortimer, based on the novel by Merriam Modell. MUSIC: Paul Glass. DOP: Denys N. Coop. CAST: Laurence Olivier, Carol Lynley, Keir Dullea, Martita Hunt, Anna Massey, Clive Revill, Finlay Currie, Noel Coward, Adrienne Corri. (Columbia)
With the long-overdue “legitimate” release (in any format) of this grey-market favourite, I can imagine how many people on eBay are going to lose some business (ditto when Criterion releases Thieves Highway). I am not certain why this title has been such a popular item in the world of “sold from one collector to another with no rights given or implied”. (Perhaps it’s the appearance of The Zombies?) Certainly, Otto Preminger has done crazier films (not least being the LSD-drenched Skidoo, also a grey-market staple), but this bizarre melodrama is a fascinating cult item nonetheless.
Carol Lynley’s little girl disappears from school one day, and in a parent’s worst nightmare, no one has any recollection of seeing the girl in her classes (she is new to the school). “Bus conductors never remember people– they tend to be dreamers, philosophers, that sort of thing,” And when the police get involved, it becomes questionable whether little Bunny Lake even exists at all!
This strange film gets even more intense as it goes along, especially when we are had to study more of the peculiar relationship between Lynley and her brother (Keir Dullea). I don’t mean to suggest any kind of psychosexual thing (which is certainly how producers would update the story if made today), because if anything, these two are asexual. One wonders how Lynley had a child at all. (“This woman is crazy.” “I’d like to think we all are.”)
Among the interesting, eclectic cast, including Laurence Olivier as the inspector, is the aforementioned rock group The Zombies, who appear in one scene. During a pub conversation about the missing girl, the camera zooms into a TV set, when the channel gets changed to an on-air performance! (It would have been fitting if they had played their classic, “She’s Not There.”)
Seeing it in its proper aspect ratio of 2.35:1 allows one to properly appreciate Preminger’s mastery of the huge frame, replete with breathtaking, elaborate, beautifully timed track shots. This aesthetic choice turns the bizarre story into more of a chess game, as the acrobatic camera follows the actors around in their maze-like hallways, themselves trapped in this inexplicable situation. The Columbia DVD also features a trailer for Preminger’s Bonjour Tristesse.
Originally published in Vol. #1, Issue #16.
Greg Woods
Greg Woods has been a film enthusiast since his teens, and began his writing "career" at the same time- prolific in capsule reviews of everything he had watched, first on index cards, then those hardcover dollar store black journals, then an old Mac IIsi. He founded The Eclectic Screening Room in 2001, as a portal to share his film love with the world, and find some like-minded enthusiasts along the way. In addition to having worked in the film industry for over two decades, he has been a co-programmer of films at Trash Palace, and a programmer/co-founder of the Toronto Film Noir Syndicate. He has also written for Broken Pencil, CU-Confidential, Micro-Film, and is currently working on his first novel. His secret desire is for someone to interview him for a podcast or a DVD extra.