Jay Rohr
Rabbit Trap can crack a viewer or put them to sleep. This strange fairytale from writer- director Bryn Chainey features elements seen elsewhere while remaining mostly its own movie. The film feels close to folk horror, yet instead of terrifying it turns towards something heartbreaking. The way Rabbit Trap defies expectations is a great strength, though some aspects limit its enjoyability.
Set around 1973, two pioneering audio artists are at work in an isolated cottage in Wales. The two are busy compiling a library of sounds used to compose ambient poetic performances. One day Darcy (Dev Patel), records something unusual in a fairy ring, a circular growth of mushrooms in the woods. Replaying the sounds at home results in the arrival of a mysterious nameless individual played by Jade Croot (The Machine). What exactly this entity desires isn’t clear at first, but as the two artists interact with it more, a sense of dread increasingly infects the situation.
Too many plot details can easily spoil Rabbit Trap. There are twists towards the end which don’t subvert formulas so much as shift expectations. At risk of saying too much, what feels like a horror story smoothly deviates into a fairytale about laying things to rest. While the narrative takes cues from changeling folklore, particularly stories involving the Tylwyth Teg, the film departs into its own territory. Satisfying as these shifts are, it is a bit of a slog getting to them.
Pacing is one of the movie’s main weaknesses. Rabbit Trap goes for a slower burn than its narrative can maintain interest in. Much of that stems from unexplored characters, a bit of plot dissonance, and lingering shots of nature one expects in flicks trying to be artsy. Although Dev Patel (Monkey Man) and Rosy McEwen (Blue Jean) are excellent, they aren’t given enough to do. There are only so many scenes one can patiently observe of them recording sounds or fiddling with vintage analog audio equipment.
Jade Croot does a marvelous job of being creepy. The being portrayed by the performer is equal parts unsettling and tragically lost. When it begins to behave like an uninvited guest that will not leave, viewers may be understandably torn by Croot’s pitiable unnatural cries. Everything about the presentation of this character is the right amount to inspire a sense of something being off.
There is an element to the creative expressions of these audio artists which speaks to being on a new frontier. Electronic music was an evolving artform at the time. There is this sense of being able to sample something ethereal through audio recording, making the invisible tangible to a certain extent without fully comprehending it that speaks towards the abstract nature of that type of music as well as brewing a certain cosmic dread. Essentially, Rabbit Trap gives this impression of people interacting with the unknown.
The way this is initially uplifting is the carrot which leads down the proverbial rabbit hole. What these sounds expose the main characters to soon overtakes the narrative. Steadily the story solidifies around the nameless Child creeping into the main characters’ cottage. And although the sounds become background elements instead of the forefront of the narrative, they remain potent throughout.
Rabbit Trap can be admired for attempting a few new things. It takes a familiar folk horror idea and composes something more modern about dealing with trauma alongside embracing endings. There’re also some clear metaphors about nature. As such, it belongs in the category reserved for other similar story experiments like Lamb (2021).
The use of audio as a gateway to cosmic horror keeps recurring in unsettling flicks, especially of the indie variety. From Berberian Sound Studio (2012) to Upstream Color (2013) to Call of the Void (2025), it’s a great gimmick when used effectively. Unfortunately, Rabbit Trap doesn’t do enough with the strange sounds expertly crafted by Graham Reznik, not to mention the unique music composed by Lucrecia Dalt. The film didn’t necessarily have to be another Thine Ears Shall Bleed (2024), but it feels like a lost opportunity for some ASMR nightmares.
Rabbit Trap often slows when it needs to be moving. Then it too frequently lingers, observing nothing compelling, which is partly because its two main characters fail to be captivating. Though performed admirably, the Davenports don’t have many intriguing elements.
Sadly, just as I was losing interest entirely the film shifted into some very intriguing territory. It wasn’t enough to overcome every preceding flaw, though it was enough to inspire a few tears. This one sharp instance of emotional resonance, however, only highlights what Rabbit Trap is lacking; more to the point, what it could clearly have conjured.
Still, there’s plenty to admire about a motion picture trying a few different plot routes. This could have been a cookie cutter echo of The Hallow (2015) and sometimes does feel like a more poetic attempt at that kind of folk horror. The ultimate result, though, is a mid-level movie that could easily have been more.
Amazing audio, solid performances, and excellent visuals aren’t enough bait to capture every audience. Rabbit Trap may snare a few viewers, but the poor pacing alongside the bland character personalities is likely to have several watchers chew their leg off to escape. The best thing about the movie is that it’s fresh, and the way it shifts course from horror to heart squeezing is cleverly affecting. I just wish Rabbit Trap had been a tighter snare.
