Blu-ray specifications
Distributed By: Twilight Time
Video Resolution: 1080p high definition
Aspect Ratio: 2.35 widescreenAudio: DTS-HDMA 1.0 (mono)
Feature Running Time: 107 minutes
Blu-ray street date: 11/11/2014
srp: $29.95
Source: Reviewer purchased copy
"Bunny Lake is Missing", 1965, produced and directed by Otto Preminger, written by John Mortimer and Penelope Mortimer, based on the novel by Evelyn Piper, theatrically released by Columbia Pictures, black & white, 2.35:1 Panavision widescreen, 107 min., starring: Laurence Olivier, Carol Lynley, Keir Dullea, Noel Coward, Martita Hunt, Finlay Currie, The Zombies
Studio package synopsis:
Bunny Lake is Missing (1965) offers us director Otto Preminger’s dark view of a London less swinging than it is sinister; the script by John and Penelope Mortimer presents a dodgy kind of thriller, in which the central damsel in distress (Carol Lynley)—a mother who claims that her child has been snatched from school—may be mad, joining the ranks of eccentrics who surround her. Also starring Keir Dullea and Laurence Olivier as a steady-on police inspector, giving one of the more sneakily larcenous performances of his illustrious career.
Producer/director Otto Preminger was just coming off of several big productions -
Exodus,
The Cardinal,
In Harm's Way - when he went to England to shoot
Bunny Lake is Missing. In many ways it's a reversion to his earlier days when he was making stylish
film noir thrillers such as
Laura and
The Fallen Angel. The central mystery in
Bunny Lake (which, for obvious reasons, can't really be discussed here) is fascinating and just a little creepy. In fact the whole movie is creepy starting with the detached performance of Keir Dullea to the behavior of the worst neighbor of all time: Noel Coward's Wilson - a man with big touchy hands and threatening words. But probably the best example is a scene towards the climax set in a Doll Hospital (apparently a real place in London) where a kindly old man (Finlay Currie, from
Ben-Hur and many other pictures) presides over a crowded shop full of disembodied and amputated dolls under repair. Skin-crawling stuff from Preminger and his writers.