In a year of television triumphs, one series stands out for its unflinching and profoundly disturbing portrayal of a man's descent into his own personal hell. Matt Smith's The Death of Bunny Munro is not just another drama; it is a visceral, six-part exploration of toxic masculinity that is poised to become the sleeper hit of the year.
A Descent into Darkness
Premiering on Thursday, November 20 on Sky and available to stream on NOW, the series is based on the 2009 Nick Cave novel of the same name, with the iconic musician serving as an executive producer. The story follows the eponymous Bunny Munro, a sex-addicted travelling salesman played by Smith, who is following in the grim footsteps of his own father, Bunny Sr, portrayed by David Threlfall.
The narrative is set into motion by a tragic event: the suicide of Bunny's wife, Libby, brought to life by Sarah Greene. Suddenly saddled with his young son, Bunny Jr (Rafael Mathé), the protagonist embarks on a chaotic road trip, dragging the boy from house to house as he peddles his wares. This journey forces him to reckon with a traumatic past, a deeply troubled present, and a terrifyingly uncertain future.
Nuance in the Disgusting
What makes The Death of Bunny Munro so striking is its refusal to look away. In a manner that contemporary television seldom attempts, the show forces viewers to confront Bunny's sleazy, often disgusting behaviour head-on. Be prepared to witness a litany of bodily fluids before the six episodes, each running 30 to 40 minutes, conclude.
Yet, this is far from a glamorisation of 'bad boy' antics. Under the direction of Isabelle Eklöf and from a script by Pete Jackson, the series offers a nuanced portrayal of the banality of evil. It masterfully invokes a sense of pity for the powerless men who try to exercise control through pathetic and grim-faced methods.
Smith, best known for Doctor Who and his incestuous role as Daemon Targaryen in House of the Dragon, delivers what may be his most alarming performance yet. He effortlessly slips into Bunny's skin—a character whose cockiness is cringe-inducing, navigating the world with the mindset of a scammy 1980s businessman, reeking of cigars and stale sex.
The Heart Amidst the Horror
Amidst the rot and decay of Bunny Munro's life, the series finds its soul in the delicate, fractured relationship between father and son. The dynamic between Matt Smith and the young Rafael Mathé is rich and chequered. Bunny Jr, with his gentle soul, provides a stark contrast to his father's cantankerous nature, evoking a fierce protectiveness in the audience.
Some of the most powerful scenes occur towards the end of the show, where the tenderness with which both characters try to mend their fragile relationship is so poignant it brings tears to the eyes. Through Bunny Jr's perspective, the series offers a commentary on an alternative path for boys growing into men in modern-day England, highlighting the pitfalls of toxic masculinity they must avoid.
For those who appreciated Netflix's Adolescence for its raw depiction of 21st-century boyhood, The Death of Bunny Munro continues this vital conversation, anchored by another endearing child performance.
While the final two episodes risk losing momentum by steering into a more self-indulgent and abstract direction, the series pulls itself back from the brink. It culminates in an ending that is both breathtaking and satisfying, wrapping up the harrowing journey in a profoundly impactful way.
The Death of Bunny Munro is a difficult, essential, and masterfully executed piece of television. It creeps in at the end of the year to make a compelling case for being some of the very best TV produced in recent months.
