Bunny Lake is Missing (Otto Preminger, 1965)
It's remarkable how a particular film maker like Alfred Hitchcock left such an indelible imprint in film that the term "hitchcockian" exists to describe a particular style of thriller. Otto Preminger's Bunny Lake is Missing seems to fit the bill according to various film writers, yet, I would imagine Preminger might have considered it a disservice in categorising his film in such layman's terms. Considering he spent years trying to get his subversive film made after acquiring the rights to Merriam Modell’s novel of the same name.
Revolving around Carol Lynley's lead performance as a distraught American mother, recently moved to London, experiencing the sheer hell of her daughter's disappearance; making matters even worse, nobody seems to believe her. The viewer is placed in the awkward position of having to determine fact from fiction. These types of films where the protagonist's claims is discredited or gaslighted is hardly a new concept, but it's a delicate balancing act with many nuances which are often telemarked poorly by many played-out, predictable thrillers. Bunny Lake is Missing is a far superior effort to any of them, though.
The supporting cast are exceptionally good; particularly Lawrence Olivier as the compassionate detective trying to make heads and tails of the whole situation. Keir Dullea plays Lynley's brother, and you begin to wander what the relationship between the two siblings is really like during an uncomfortable bathroom scene. There's also an over-the-top performance by Noel Coward as Lynley's drunk and sleazy landlord; resulting in a bizarre scene at his abode where he shows off a cane and whip, along with the supposed skull of the Marquis de Sade to the police.
Always considered foreign film makers working in Britain having some kind of preconceived notion of what British living is like and Preminger is no exception. The film is loaded with some very British quirks and oddities peppered throughout; ranging from eccentric Brits in bit part roles to the dish known as 'junket'. Somewhat baffled that a quintessential British pub scene in the film features the sixties band The Zombies appearing on the pub's TV performing a couple of their songs. Ironically, one of their biggest hits and a more fitting song, She's Not There does not appear in the film.
Cinematographer, Denys N. Coop, captures beautifully shot scenes for the film; strong contrasting black and white shots play an integral part as they reflect Lynley's mental state throughout her daughter's disappearance. Scenes where she escapes from a hospital feel like they're from Jack Clayton's gloriously, gothic chiller The Innocents (1961). Add the unmistakably distinctive and highly symbolic paper ripping opening credits sequence by the legendary Saul Bass and the film feels like a complete package.
Goes without saying that Bunny Lake is Missing exhibits the same qualities that would eventually become often associated with many psycho-sexual thrillers and gialli in the years to come. The scene where Lynley winds up late at night in a creepy doll repair shop off Soho, is the stuff of nightmares and would suffice enough as testament to this claim. The final act of the film is enough to quash any remaining doubters.
Along with Roman Polanski's Repulsion and Seth Holt's The Nanny (another adaptation of a Merriam Modell novel) which were also released in the very same year as Preminger's film,
there really had to have been something in the water, with these top notch British psychological thrillers. If only the trailer department drank from that same well too: