One of the most exciting aspects of attending a film festival is the element of discovery: randomly screening one film that completely resonates with me. At South by Southwest 2025, that unexpected gem was Bunny, a briskly paced comedy-thriller made on a tiny budget with an utterly irresistible cast of characters. Out of all the films I screened, this is the one that leaves me with a smile on my face every time I think about it.
I hadn't planned on seeing Bunny. In fact, it was only because I couldn't get into another screening that I ended up in the theater. I had no idea what to expect, and within minutes, I was hooked. The premise is simple: a couple of friends enlist their neighbors to help hide a dead body. But rather than unfolding as a tense crime thriller, Bunny embraces chaos with a sharp, quick-witted comedic sensibility. The film is bursting with charm, and its naturalistic performances make it feel entirely authentic.
The world created here feels lived-in and real. The dialogue is unforced and has a certain rhythm to it, making it feel like we're following along in real-time as the events unfold. The cast is partially made up of actual tenants of the apartment building where the movie was filmed, the actual home of the filmmakers. There's an organic quality to their interactions, a real sense of community and family that makes the central absurdity of the story feel believable.
At the heart of the film is Bunny (Mo Stark), a character who exudes an oddball charisma that makes him instantly likable. There's something magnetic about the way Stark plays him, as if he's both completely in over his head and also entirely at ease and in command of the chaos surrounding him. The movie never takes itself too seriously, never losing its emotional core even as the characters make increasingly ridiculous (but always amusing) choices.
Writer-director Ben Jacobson (who also plays Dino) takes an approach that's both bold and intimate. The handheld camerawork adds to the frenetic energy, moving up and down stairwells, weaving in and out of cramped apartments, and constantly shifting perspectives. The film never lingers in one place for too long. It's a fairly large cast, yet every character is distinct, each with their own quirks and idiosyncrasies that make them memorable. It's rare to find a film with this many characters where none of them feel like filler.
It's a single location setting - a small, somewhat gritty apartment building in New York. The film is, in many ways, a love letter to the city, capturing the kind of found families that can form among neighbors in close quarters. There's a rawness to it, but also a deep affection. You get the sense that Jacobson and Stark know and love this space intimately, that they're capturing something real about the way people connect in a place like this.
Beyond its humor and heart, Bunny does have a thrilling undercurrent, driven by the central dilemma of what to do with the body. While the stakes are never played as deadly serious, there's still an element of tension that keeps driving the story forward. Watching the characters scramble to figure out a plan, and seeing how their own personalities and relationships influence their actions is delightful.
I get so happy experiencing art made with such passion. After the screening, I had the chance to speak with Jacobson and Stark, and their enthusiasm was infectious. Seeing how excited they were to have their small indie film premiere at a major festival was a reminder of why I love movies in the first place. Big-budget Hollywood productions rarely carry this kind of raw energy and personal investment. This wasn't a film made to fit neatly into a marketing plan or to chase box office numbers; it was made because the people behind it had to make it. That passion radiates off the screen.
It's also worth noting how universally well Bunny was received. Everyone I spoke to after the screening was buzzing about it. It's the kind of film that makes me feel like I need to immediately text my friends about. There was no other film I watched at SxSW that gave me the kind of pure, unexpected delight that this one did.
At just ninety minutes, Bunny moves at a frenetic pace and never lets up. I could have spent another thirty minutes with these characters. There's a warmth to it, and an energy that's infectious. It's chaotic and comforting, both wild and human.
Bunny will be on my list of the best films of 2025. I can't wait to see it again, and I can't wait for more people to fall in love with these unforgettable characters.
