Rabbit Hole (2010)
Rabbit Hole (USA) Directed by John Cameron Mitchell Written by David Lindsay-Abaire Starring Nicole Kidman; Aaron Eckhart; Sandra Oh; Dianne Weist; Miles Teller; Giancarlo Esposito; Jon Tenney; Tammy Blanchard
David Lyndsay-Abaire adapted the screenplay for Rabbit Hole from his own play (which won a Pullitzer) of the same name. Always there are major challenges in translating from stage to screen, and despite the pedigree of all involved there are moments in the film when one can imagine speeches being shortened to accommodate the new medium. Thankfully, while the subject matter (a couple dealing with the tragic loss of their young child) is certainly dour, and the reliance is most definitely on the well-written dialogue, Abaire and director John Cameron Mitchell manage to avoid most of the torpor and stilted speechifying marking so many similar adaptations.
Nicole Kidman, looking physically more natural than she has in years, is excellent as Becca , a somewhat uptight suburban upper middle class New York housewife who finds herself reeling from the cavernous void left in her life by her the loss of her son eight months before. Ensconced in the grieving process, she and her husband, Howie (Aaron Eckhart), are angry, despairing, and unable to communicate what they need from one another, their marriage obviously teetering and on the verge of tearing apart.
Convinced that things will never return to normal, Becca is disdainful of the group they attend for parents who have lost children. Gaby (Sandra Oh) and her husband lost their child a full eight years previous and still evidently find solace in participating, which leaves Becca feeling even more hopeless. While wanting to return to physical intimacy with his wife, and entertaining thoughts of them having another child, Howie obsessively watches a video of his son on his phone, and is loathe to put away any of the child’s items. Becca vehemently rejects notions of God playing a role in the tragedy, recoils from Howie’s touch, and has little desire to socialize with friends or family, but wants to sell their house, pack up their child’s things, and move on. The two cannot seem to agree on finding a balance between keeping their son’s memory alive and the acceptance and transitioning that so acutely and obviously needs to take place.
The films gives us a nuanced look at one couple’s attempts to hang on to their marriage after having their collective and individual heart torn asunder. The immensely gifted Kidman and reliable Eckhart carry the film, though they are ably aided by some nice supporting performances from veteran Dianne Weist (as Becca’s Mom) and a surprisingly subtle and oddly, effectively quiet turn from from Miles Teller as their son’s accidental killer, Jason, a high school senior who himself is trying to live normally despite the tremendous guilt, sorrow, and self-loathing he is contending with.
There are few adult American dramas that achieve this kind of balance - showing us truly emotional, gut-wrenching moments without resorting to melodrama. The questions Becca and Howie ask of themselves, of one another, seem like those any couple under the same conditions might be faced with. The relationships highlighted are all of the human, complicated variety, treated with the kind of care and understanding that can only arise from exceptional writing.
Cameron Mitchell (Shortbus; Hedwig) seems to understand that this one is about the actors and dialogue and impressively widens the scope of the play, while staying fittingly focused on the lives of the couple and their immediate family and friends. The film essentially revolves around twitchy, reactive, and slightly stuck up Becca, who, when we meet her, is too proud/consumed with grief to accept help of any kind. Her condescension and icy demeanor only begin to melt as she discovers the wisdom there is to be gained from reaching out to those who care about her - sensitivity and warmth developing (or re-emerging anyway) as she discovers that continuing to go it on her own will likely lead to self-destruction.
While the loss of a child is any parent’s nightmare, and stands as a particularly severe metaphor, the film does serve as an example of how pain and suffering have the power to devastate families, but also potentially simultaneously aid individuals within these units in experiencing transformative growth.