“Hold on,” she said to the director. “Lola wouldn’t just let him carry her. She’d say something.”
Years later, at a comic-con panel, a young woman approached Kath’s autograph table. She was holding a vintage Lola doll.
She opened her eyes and read the line: “What’s up, Doc?” kath soucie lola bunny
Today, she was trying out for a rabbit.
She paused, then added her own ad-lib, channeling a little of her inner Phil DeVille’s mischief: “And if you can’t see that, you must be as blind as a mole rat in a coal mine.” “Hold on,” she said to the director
Then, from behind the glass, a low chuckle. Then another. The door opened, and the director, Tony, poked his head out. He was smiling.
Not just any rabbit. Lola Bunny.
The film came out in November 1996. Critics were lukewarm, but kids lost their minds. And somewhere in that cultural swirl, a new icon was born. Lola Bunny wasn’t just a love interest—she was a poster on bedroom walls, a Halloween costume, a small but defiant step forward.