Writer-director Bryn Chainey’s feature debut, Rabbit Trap, is a hauntingly atmospheric tale that merges 1970s British folk horror with a deeply personal exploration of longing, trauma, and the unseen connections between worlds. While it offers an immersive experience for fans of slow-burning paranormal thrillers, its enigmatic story, and ethereal tone may alienate those seeking more conventional horror or narrative resolution. Rabbit Trap premiered during the 2025 Sundance Film Festival.
Set in 1976, the film follows avant-garde musician Daphne (Rosy McEwen) and her husband Darcy (Dev Patel) as they retreat to a remote Welsh cottage, intent on creating and collecting music in solitude. Their creative process, however, awakens something ancient within the land. A mysterious young rabbit trapper (Jade Croot) emerges, uninvited yet strangely compelling, bringing with them a deep understanding of local folklore and a disquieting presence that disrupts the couple’s fragile peace.
The film is a masterclass in sensory storytelling. Cinematographer Andreas Johannessen’s use of 35mm film captures the lush, almost suffocating textures of the Welsh forest, while the sound design by Graham Reznick and composer Lucrecia Dalt creates an uncanny, immersive atmosphere. The interplay between sound and silence becomes a central motif, as the narrative probes unsettling questions like “Where does sound go when it’s silent?” and builds dread through subtle sonic distortions that mirror the film’s themes of otherworldly intrusion.
Rosy McEwen and Dev Patel deliver grounded, restrained performances that anchor the film’s supernatural elements. Daphne’s obsessive creativity and Darcy’s quiet introspection provide a compelling portrait of a couple grappling with unspoken grief, their unfulfilled desire for a child adding emotional weight to the story’s paranormal underpinnings. Patel, in particular, shines in Darcy’s moments of surreal terror—his recording session that ends in a blackout within a fairy ring and his recurring nightmares of yellow goo seeping into their home feel both deeply unsettling and heartbreakingly intimate.
Jade Croot’s portrayal of the rabbit trapper is both mesmerizing and eerie, embodying the duality of a figure who is both childlike and otherworldly. The character serves as a guide into the film’s darker fairy tale elements, introducing the couple to the idea of the “veil” between worlds and drawing them deeper into an uncanny realm of the Tylwyth Teg (Welsh fairies). These moments, particularly the sequences set in the Tylwyth Teg’s garden, have an almost hallucinatory beauty, contrasting with the suffocating dread of the house as it becomes corrupted by the rabbit trapper’s influence.
While the film’s imagery and soundscape are undeniably captivating, its narrative is likely to divide audiences. Rabbit Trap isn’t a horror film in the traditional sense; it’s more of an adult fairy tale with paranormal elements, exploring themes of longing, respect for nature, and the fragile boundaries between worlds. However, the film’s ambiguous resolution feels abrupt and unsatisfying. This indie-style ending, coupled with the film’s measured pacing, may frustrate viewers seeking more closure.
Despite these shortcomings, Rabbit Trap casts a spell with its eerie aesthetic and unsettlingly poetic storytelling. It’s a film that demands patience and openness, rewarding those willing to embrace its ambiguities with a rich, otherworldly experience. For fans of folk horror-inspired works or those intrigued by dark fairy tales, Bryn Chainey’s debut marks an artistically ambitious—if narratively divisive—addition to the genre.
I give Rabbit Trap 3 out of 5 stars.