The Death of Bunny Munro ★★★
From caterwauling punk to national treasure, Nick Cave has forged a genuinely distinctive voice over the last 50 years. Few musicians have been able to make one of his songs their own, and on the evidence of this seesawing limited series, adapted from Cave’s 2009 novel of the same name, bringing his writing to the screen may be equally challenging. A coming-of-age crisis brought into focus by sexual addiction and big daddy delusions, The Death of Bunny Munro is a pungent British drama that wants to have it all.
Matt Smith and Rafael Mathe are a mismatched father and son in The Death of Bunny Munro.
Perhaps it’s left out of kilter by the sheer swagger of Matt Smith as Bunny Munro, a seller of women’s cosmetics – “by appointment”, not door-to-door – who’s a self-obsessed lothario and serial cheater. Bunny’s with another woman the night his wife, Libby (Sarah Greene), left depressed by his deceptions, takes her life. Bunny’s first instinct is to offload his bookish, lonely nine-year-old son, Bunny Junior (Rafael Mathe), on his in-laws and get back to seducing his clients, but circumstances put the pair on the road together.
Written by Pete Jackson (Somewhere Boy) and directed by Isabella Eklof (Industry), these six succinct episodes, set in Brighton circa 2003, are conventional in structure: Bunny is an usurious narcissist, Bunny Junior hopes for paternal love, their situation worsens and father and son face an endgame. But you can’t overestimate the warped, carnivorous charisma Smith invests Bunny with. The long ago Doctor Who gave even The Crown a licentious charge, and here he’s cock of the walk. Exhibit A: Libby’s funeral, where Bunny skips out mid-service for a quick cigarette and a spot of self pleasure.
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The twisted guts of Cave’s novel was Bunny’s internal monologues, which aren’t heard directly here; the carnal obsession of an entire chapter where Bunny’s sexual fantasies about Kylie Minogue run wild is replaced by him nodding approvingly as her song plays on the radio. Mathe gives a terrifically tender performance, gaining sad understanding, while Libby makes repeated spectral returns, but the story lacks a balancing perspective. Nonetheless, I laughed when Bunny labelled sex “a liaison kangaroo” – that’s uncut Cave Aussie idiom.
A masculinity this tyre-fire toxic doesn’t get tolerated, but even as Bunny loses his touch and crosses sharp lines, there’s a needle being finely threaded. You see how Bunny’s still terrified of his own monstrous father, and there are moments of generosity with Bunny Junior. But the otherworldly realm the final episode traverses feels like an odd sidestep after all the primitive carnality and selfishness. Think carefully before falling too deeply into Bunny Munro’s arms.
The Death of Bunny Munro streams on Binge from November 20.
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