Hop Into Hell, Y’all
There are movies you watch, and then there are movies you survive. Bunnyman 2 (also known as The Bunnyman Resurrection or The Bunnyman Massacre, depending on how generous your DVD label feels) is that rare cinematic beast that exists in the sweet spot between absolute lunacy and low-budget brilliance. It’s a slasher film where a man in a giant bunny suit wields a chainsaw with the unbothered efficiency of someone trimming hedges. It’s absurd. It’s gruesome. It’s kind of wonderful.
Director Carl Lindbergh, who gave us the original Bunnyman back in 2011, doubles down on everything that made the first movie so bewildering—except now he adds just enough self-awareness to make it feel like an unholy love child of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre and an Easter parade gone horribly wrong.
The Plot: The Bunny That Wouldn’t Die
The movie opens with our fluffy murder enthusiast—known only as Bunnyman—doing what he does best: carving up campers like they’re ham at a holiday buffet. From the moment the chainsaw revs, you realize you’re in for something special. This isn’t subtle horror. This is a man in a fuzzy costume turning the forest into an all-you-can-scream buffet.
After his opening act of woodland slaughter, Bunnyman sets up a sign for his buddy Joe’s general store—because even psychos in rabbit suits understand the importance of small business promotion. The sign lures in a group of four hikers: two girls, Sarah (Julianne Dowler) and Lauren (Jennifer June Ross), and two guys who exist solely to die early and spectacularly.
When Sarah and Lauren reach the store, they meet Joe (David Scott), a man whose customer service skills rank somewhere between “hostile” and “homicidal.” Joe and Bunnyman are partners in crime, a dynamic duo of death—think Abbott and Costello Meet the Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Joe captures the girls and forces Sarah into a Faustian bargain: lure more victims, or die screaming. It’s the kind of customer loyalty program you don’t come back from.
Meanwhile, the local sheriff (Marshal Hilton) starts poking around, because in horror movies, there’s always one guy in a tan hat who’s just one day from retirement. Naturally, things don’t end well for him either.
The climax is a glorious symphony of chainsaws, screaming, and existential despair. Lauren dies the hard way, Sarah takes the easy way (a bullet to the head), Joe gets mortally wounded, and Bunnyman—ever the loyal friend—puts Joe out of his misery before hopping back into the woods, perhaps to find another town’s worth of campers to ruin Easter for.
The Tone: Looney Tunes Meets Leatherface
It’s impossible to take Bunnyman 2 seriously—and that’s exactly why it works. Lindbergh leans into the absurdity of his premise with just the right amount of dark humor. The film knows it’s ridiculous. You know it’s ridiculous. And together, you share this unspoken agreement: “Let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes.”
Where the first Bunnyman sometimes felt like unintentional madness, the sequel feels intentionally, gloriously deranged. It’s self-aware enough to wink at you through its bloodstained fur but still mean enough to leave you squirming.
Imagine Monty Python and the Holy Grail’s killer rabbit—but it’s seven feet tall, swinging a chainsaw, and backed by a twangy murder-country soundtrack. That’s the energy here. Every scene is dripping with the kind of “I can’t believe someone filmed this” charm that turns bad movies into cult treasures.
The Performances: A Murderer’s Easter Basket of Weird
Joshua Lang as the Bunnyman is oddly mesmerizing. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t blink, doesn’t do much of anything besides stalk and kill—but there’s something about that emotionless rabbit head that’s downright hypnotic. He’s a cross between a mall Easter Bunny and Michael Myers on sugar withdrawal.
David Scott’s Joe is the talkative counterpoint—a greasy, backwoods entrepreneur with a taste for blood and a surprising amount of screen presence. He chews the scenery like he’s auditioning for a grindhouse reboot of Duck Dynasty.
Julianne Dowler (Sarah) and Jennifer June Ross (Lauren) do solid work as the film’s scream queens. They run, they cry, they make poor decisions—everything you could want from women trapped in a backwoods slaughterfest. But Dowler deserves extra credit for playing a character who literally bargains with a murderer, escapes, and still ends up chained again. That’s not bad luck—that’s biblical.
Marshal Hilton as Sheriff Baxter adds a dash of old-school gravitas to the madness. He’s the movie’s brief moral compass—a man who walks straight into a horror movie and promptly gets cut out of it.
The Style: Chainsaws and Country Ballads
For a film about a giant rabbit, Bunnyman 2 is shockingly well-shot. Lindbergh has an eye for contrast—the sunny forest landscapes drenched in golden light make the sudden bursts of gore even more jarring. It’s like a tourism ad directed by Satan.
The kills themselves are practical, nasty, and occasionally inventive. Heads roll. Chainsaws hum. Blood spurts like a kid went nuts with a ketchup bottle. But what really sets Bunnyman 2 apart is its soundtrack—a bizarrely catchy mix of banjo plucking and murder hymns. It’s like Deliverance, but with more rhythm and more decapitations.
The Humor: Hare-Raising and Self-Aware
You can’t name your villain “Bunnyman” and expect anyone to keep a straight face. Thankfully, the movie doesn’t even try. It leans into the lunacy, balancing shock value with gallows humor.
There’s a delightful absurdity to watching a man in a bunny suit nonchalantly hang a “Joe’s General Store” sign after a massacre, as if he’s advertising a bake sale. It’s the little details that make this film darkly funny: the casual small talk between killers, the sheriff’s growing disbelief, the moment a victim tries to reason with someone wearing fuzzy ears and holding a chainsaw.
This is horror with a smirk—a movie that’s as much about the ridiculousness of slasher tropes as it is about indulging them. It’s self-parody without becoming smug, which is rarer than surviving a Bunnyman movie.
The Subtext (Yes, There’s Subtext): Americana as Apocalypse
Underneath the gallons of fake blood, Bunnyman 2 has something sly to say about rural America, consumerism, and the collapse of morality. Joe’s store is the grotesque centerpiece of it all—a literal mom-and-pop shop of murder, commodifying death and luring in customers with promises of cheap goods and “local charm.”
It’s a horror movie about capitalism with a bunny mascot. If that’s not America, what is?
Why It Works: It’s Dumb, It’s Brilliant, and It Knows It
What makes Bunnyman 2 special is that it understands exactly what it is—a trashy, violent, over-the-top slasher that refuses to apologize for existing. It’s the cinematic equivalent of eating Peeps with whiskey: terrible for you, deeply confusing, but somehow satisfying.
Lindbergh isn’t trying to reinvent the genre; he’s revving it up and letting it ride straight off a cliff. The result is a fever dream of gore and fur that’s so wrong it loops all the way back around to being right.
Final Thoughts: Hop, Drop, and Roll
Bunnyman 2 is a grindhouse gem wrapped in pastel fur—a film that doesn’t care if you take it seriously, as long as you’re having fun. It’s nasty, noisy, and unapologetically ridiculous, but it’s also surprisingly stylish and oddly charming.
The performances are committed, the kills are creative, and the tone walks that perfect line between “nightmare” and “nightmare you kind of want to keep watching.”
Verdict: 4 out of 5 bloody bunny tails.
Bunnyman 2 proves that horror doesn’t need logic or high budgets to be entertaining. Sometimes, all you need is a chainsaw, a carrot, and the courage to look fear in the face—and then lop it clean off.
