Introduction: Child of Terror, or Child of Tedium?
Every so often, critics dig up a film from the past, dust it off, and declare it a “lost masterpiece.” Enter Celia (a.k.a. Celia: Child of Terror), an Australian film from 1989 that has been hailed by some as a subtle horror-drama blending childhood innocence, Cold War paranoia, and fairy-tale monsters. Sounds intriguing, right? Unfortunately, watching Celia feels less like discovering a hidden gem and more like being trapped at an awkward family gathering where rabbits, communists, and creepy uncles all compete for your attention.
The only thing terrifying here isn’t the Red Scare allegory or the child’s descent into violence—it’s the realization that you’ve just sat through 102 minutes of slow-burn “horror” where the scariest moment is a possum shrieking in the night.
Plot: Rabbits, Reds, and Really Bad Parenting
We’re in 1957 suburban Australia, where eight-year-old Celia Carmichael (Rebecca Smart) lives a thoroughly miserable life. Her grandmother dies, her father is an angry conservative bore, her cousin Stephanie is a demon in pigtails, and worst of all, she doesn’t get the birthday present she wanted. Instead of a pet rabbit, she gets a bicycle. Cue the tears.
Now, you might think, “What’s so scary about a bike?” Well, nothing—unless you’re a kid in a horror-drama that desperately wants to mean something. Celia finally does get her rabbit (named Murgatroyd, because nothing screams terror like Victorian-sounding pets), only for the government to outlaw rabbits. Yes, the looming threat of nuclear war, communism, and domestic strife all take a backseat to… a rabbit ban. Nothing builds dread quite like watching men in uniform confiscate fluffy bunnies like they’re smuggling plutonium.
Meanwhile, Celia’s new neighbors, the Tanners, are nice people but—gasp!—communists. Her father, Ray, reacts as though Stalin himself moved in next door. Political tensions flare, but instead of this fueling the plot in a meaningful way, it mainly gives Celia an excuse to keep having nightmares about “Hobyahs”—blue-handed goblins from folklore that look suspiciously like your local theatre troupe painted themselves in Smurf colors.
The movie proceeds in a cycle: Celia gets bullied, hallucinates monsters, plays creepy games with effigies, and watches her rabbit suffer. Eventually, she snaps and kills her uncle Burke with a shotgun. The climax is less shocking horror and more “Well, somebody had to do it,” since Uncle Burke spends most of the movie as a caricature of authoritarian policing. Celia covers it up, life goes on, and the movie ends with her sentencing her best friend to a mock hanging during playtime. Childhood trauma, but make it quirky.
Performances: The Only Thing Real is the Possum
Rebecca Smart, to her credit, does a decent job carrying the film. She alternates between wide-eyed innocence and unnerving coldness, which makes Celia a compelling if insufferable protagonist. But even the best child performance can’t save a movie where the emotional stakes revolve around rodents with floppy ears.
Nicholas Eadie plays Ray, Celia’s father, with all the charisma of a tax auditor. His scenes are less “patriarchal menace” and more “dad who ruins barbecues with political rants.” Mary-Anne Fahey as Celia’s mother seems stuck in a perpetual state of “I married wrong,” while Victoria Longley as Alice Tanner is wasted in a role that amounts to “pleasant neighbor and symbol of progressive politics.”
And then there’s William Zappa as Sergeant Burke, who chews the scenery so hard you expect him to swallow the curtains. He’s the kind of uncle who’d ruin Christmas, confiscate Monopoly money as “contraband,” and then brag about it at the pub.
Horror Elements: Where Are They?
Despite the subtitle Child of Terror, there’s very little terror to be found. Oh sure, Celia has some nightmares about the Hobyahs, but these sequences look like they were staged at a high school drama club with a blacklight. The monsters claw at her windows, scratch at her door, and then vanish before anything happens. They’re not scary. They’re barely coherent.
The real horror is watching grown adults in 1957 Australia obsess over rabbits like they’re the key to the apocalypse. When the police storm in to confiscate Murgatroyd, the tension is supposed to feel Orwellian. Instead, it feels like Monty Python’s Ministry of Silly Pets.
And the climactic shotgun murder of Uncle Burke? Played so flat you half-expect the laugh track to kick in. If this is “horror,” then Old Yeller deserves to be filed under “slasher.”
Themes: Subtle as a Hammer
“It’s an allegory!” cry the defenders of this film. Yes, we get it. Rabbits = freedom, Communists = the Other, Uncle Burke = authoritarianism, Hobyahs = Celia’s psychological trauma. But the movie wields its themes like a sledgehammer wrapped in barbed wire. Subtle metaphors? Forget it. This is a world where childhood play directly mirrors adult political paranoia, and where kids burn effigies of their parents as though they’ve been reading Karl Marx at recess.
What could’ve been a thoughtful exploration of growing up during political upheaval turns into a clumsy mash of symbols that don’t gel. One minute it’s about Cold War hysteria, the next it’s about authoritarian cruelty, and then suddenly it’s about whether little girls should be allowed pet rabbits. Pick a lane, Celia.
Pacing: As Slow as a Rabbit on Tranquilizers
This film moves at the speed of continental drift. Every scene lingers just long enough to kill any tension. Want to watch Celia stare out the window? Sure, here’s three minutes of it. Want to see the kids play at the quarry? Hope you’ve cleared your schedule. Even the rabbit confiscation scene takes forever, like the director thought suspense could be built out of watching grown men fumble with cages.
By the time Celia finally grabs the shotgun, you’re not horrified—you’re relieved something’s happening.
Final Verdict: Celia’s Terror is Our Boredom
“Celia: Child of Terror” is less horror and more homework. It’s the kind of film critics pretend to like because it’s “serious” and “political,” but really it’s a slog dressed up in art-house pretension.
If you want actual child-focused horror that unsettles, watch The Omen or Village of the Damned. If you want political allegory, watch The Crucible. If you want to see rabbits that actually terrify, just rewatch that scene from Watership Down.
What you don’t need is Celia, where the only terror is realizing you wasted nearly two hours watching a girl hallucinate blue goblins and mourn a bunny while her neighbors argue about communism.
The scariest thing about Celia is that someone thought slapping “Child of Terror” on the title would trick horror fans into watching. That’s not just misleading—it’s downright diabolical.
