The Death of Bunny Munro review: Matt Smith disturbs in Adolescence gone analogue

Netflix's Adolescence brought much-needed attention to the hateful attitudes emanating from a growing corner of the internet and taking root in the minds of today's teenagers and young men.

But the revelatory element of its story was less the misogyny itself and more so the method of transmission, with the web's now-infamous 'manosphere' serving as a powerful amplifier for harmful ideas that had once appeared to be in decline.

The Death of Bunny Munro almost serves as a prequel in that respect, exploring how the objectification, disrespect and outright abuse of women was taught to boys long before social media had the world in its death grip.

The story follows Brighton-based travelling salesman Bunny Munro (Matt Smith), who takes his son on a road trip across the south coast in the wake of a devastating personal tragedy.

The impromptu adventure is ostensibly intended to teach Bunny Jr (Rafael Mathé) the tricks of the trade, but it's clearly also an excuse for his grief-stricken father to indulge in his most destructive vices: sex, drugs and alcohol.

An impressionable Bunny Jr begins the story in awe of his charismatic yet distant father, taking every chance to mimic him while excusing or ignoring obvious neglect towards both himself and his late mother, Libby (Sarah Greene).

It's a dynamic reflected in the older Bunny's relationship with his own father, Bunny Sr (David Threlfall), and which we can imagine goes back about as far as their family line does – but will the cycle of violence end here, or continue in perpetuity?

The story is largely episodic in nature, unfolding as a series of encounters with customers – which are smarmy to begin with and only get worse from there – tied together by appearances from social services or a mysterious killer nearing ever closer.

During these excitable house visits, Smith leans into the smooth-talking charm that made his Eleventh Doctor a heartthrob for many, but adds a sleazy, exploitative edge that later distorts into something even more monstrous.

By contrast, Mathé's performance is innocent and earnest to the core. The nine-year-old actor is dealt some very adult material to work through here and tackles it with heartbreaking efficacy – in his screen debut, no less.

Screenwriter Pete Jackson previously addressed damaged youth in Channel 4's equally affecting Somewhere Boy, making him two-for-two in shows that mesmerise as much in the quiet moments as in their fiery outbursts or monologues.

But for all the ways he expands and arguably improves upon Nick Cave's novel, Jackson stays relatively close to its divisive ending, which is likely to polarise all over again in the television medium.

As a character study first and foremost, and a fairly comprehensive one at that, The Death of Bunny Munro can get away with its abstract crescendo easier than most other British dramas.

In other words, you won't be scrambling for answers over plot details left frustratingly ambiguous, but you might well have some questions about the precise meaning of the finale's eerie symbolism.

Ultimately though, that's all secondary to the key messages behind this seaside rollercoaster; one that exposes the casualness with which toxic behaviours are imprinted upon us at a young age, becoming so difficult to scrub off in the years that follow.

And most importantly, The Death of Bunny Munro warns that "we gotta love one another or die" (as Nick Cave sings in the haunting original theme song) – and depicts the annihilation that occurs when that fact goes ignored.

The Death of Bunny Munro premieres on Sky Atlantic and NOW on Thursday 20th November 2025.

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