Lathered in the cold blue glow of laptop screens and sprinkled with a dash of Charlie XCX soundtrack cues, Katarina Zhu’s directorial debut Bunnylovr promises an cool and honest, uncompromising modern look at sexuality in the age of webcam communication. In the last five years, Facetime-style communication has grown to be the norm for most Americans, but what comes with it is a certain level of distance, obviously physically but also mentally and emotionally. The distance between you and the person on the other end of the conversation can still feel isolating, as though at any moment, you can end it with just a click of a button. On top of that, Bunnylovr’s focus is of the world of submissive webcam pornography and Zhu captures incredibly well both the temptations, convictions, and regrets of a woman alone in front of her laptop. As a full narrative, though, those explorations can only remain interesting for so long.

Zhu also stars in the film in the lead role of Rebecca, who works as a personal assistant for a wealthy businessman in New York by day and logs online as a webcam sex worker by night. Her father, Perry (William Yung) has just reentered her life after a long period of estrangement, her artist roommate Bella (Rachel Sennott) invites her often to participate in modeling for her projects, and Rebecca often finds pure escapism retreating to her secret alias as Bunnylovr, servicing needs almost exclusively to a man online named John (Austin Amelio), who is clearly obsessed with her. He is generous to pay her often for her service, having even hid his image from her for a while until she “earns” it. One day, a package shows up from John: a small, white bunny rabbit. At first Rebecca can’t accept his gift, but she also can’t allow herself to get rid of it. Trapped with pleasing the needs of her client, she continues to pursue his fetishes further, even planning to meet him in person.

When we’re locked in with Rebecca’s insecurities and immediate decision-making is when Zhu’s direction stands out most. She keeps the camera locked in on close-ups, fixated on both her eyes and the eyes of John, which treads a fine line between seduction and unsettling regret. Zhu is not afraid to go to some stomach-churning places, both performative and suggestive. Rebecca is a deeply flawed and complicated character and Zhu does not scrub her clean to please the audience.

But despite what Zhu gets incredibly right, there’s a lot that still feels unexplored with the story she’s telling. Her friendship with Bella feels minimal, only allowing Sennott a few small scenes to just talk obliviously with Rebecca about her life. Her relationship with her father has some nice, textured moments, but feels half-baked. The balancing of her day job and night work could lean into her inability to stay focused, often using her boss’ computer to view pornography and other cam girls for her own curiosity. This addiction could lead to a more heavy presence in the plot, but remains on the outside.

Bunnylovr achieves just enough intrigue in its lead character’s career to remain worth a look, though it unfortunately does not stick in the brain for long. Whether its a lack of Zhu’s story going to more interesting places or tying the characters she’s created together in a more substantial way, something feels a bit missing, therefore unable to lock down a real argumentative perspective on the life of online sex work. A really good base for a concept stretched a bit thin, but Zhu is an intriguing new talent and hopefully this is just a “proof of concept” for later, greater work in the future.