Cinema Verdict Review: Rabbit Hole

Rabbit Hole

OPENING: 12/17/2010

STUDIO: Lionsgate Films

RUN TIME: 92 min

ACCOMPLICES:
Trailer, Official Site

The Charge
The only way out is through

Opening Statement
A family mourns the loss of their 4-year-old son in John Cameron Mitchell’s Rabbit Hole, a powerful film, to say the least, but one wrapped tightly in a thick blanket of sorrow that makes for an emotional, if not depressing viewing experience. And yet, stars Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart shine in their respective roles. Their performances are captivating and well worth the melancholy hangover that lingers long after the credits roll.

Facts of the Case
Becca and Howie lost their son eight months ago in a car accident. The initial sting of their loss has faded, but the overwhelming pain continues to linger.

They have tried everything to cope–talking about their son, not talking about him, group therapy, working out, and just plain working–but nothing seems to help. Their relationship has deteriorated into passive conversations and awkward bits of silence. Friends have all but disappeared, replaced by painful memories of happy moments not-so-long-ago.

How do you move on from such a tragedy? At what point is it okay to forget? How do you erase the memories of the dead when their spirit lingers within the very halls you walk through every day?

The Evidence
Awards season almost always brings about films like Rabbit Hole. Films basking on a sticky plate of overwrought melodrama–The Reader, The Blind Side and Atonement come to mind–hell-bent on creating the most depressing experience imaginable, because such films win Oscars, right? (What?! You didn’t like The Reader? You have no soul!) I wade into such waters hesitantly, careful not to drown myself in the choppy seas of tear-induced hokum.

Yet, there’s something timeless about a film like Rabbit Hole, a carefully crafted bit of cinema that doggedly resists the conventions of plot or structure in favor of quiet character study. Nothing much happens in Mitchell’s flick, but still his story (or lack thereof) remains engaging because Kidman and Eckhart make us believe it is so. As parents struggling to reenter civilization after a devastating, life-altering experience, both actors reach deep into their palette of skills to paint a picture of loss; the sometimes horrific way the death of a loved one can change our view of the world. Becca and Howie are a couple who are still very much in love, but aren’t quite sure what do with one another now that their family is no longer complete. After all, what’s the point of being a father or mother if there are no children left to nurture? What is the point of even trying to be a parent if God takes who he wants when he wants? “Why didn’t God just make another angel,” Becca snaps, her repressed anger boiling up inside like a carefully packed cannon, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Those standing closest–including her mother (Dianne Wiest) and sister (Tammy Blanchard)– take the most heat. Regrettable, sure, but what are families for?

There’s not much else to say about Rabbit Hole. As a film it moves in fits and starts and arrives at no greater understanding of life or death or death in life. Unlike, say, Todd Field’s In the Bedroom, which carries a similar style and tone, and a deeper level of character study, what with its characters’ resolve to avenge the death of their son, Rabbit Hole collapses under its own meticulous, simple-minded weight. People mourn and then mourn some more. Sadness gives way to frustration, which, in turn, gives way to aggression and rage. The angrier Becca becomes, the more she pushes her husband away. Indeed both characters find comfort in the arms of others–not sexually, of course. Becca seeks out the young man (Miles Teller) responsible for her son’s death; Howie smokes pot and opens up to an equally pained member (Sandra Oh) of his group therapy. Again, the results are quiet, psychological insights into a heartbroken family. Do they learn to cope? Yes and no. As Wiest’s character explains, “The pain never goes away.” Okay.

Sometimes subtlety works–again see In the Bedroom, a remarkable film–but only if the subject matter is powerful enough to stand on its own. With Rabbit Hole, I got the impression everyone involved stepped it up a notch, knowing full well the material wouldn’t survive otherwise.

I called Mitchell’s film powerful, and that’s no lie, but only because Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart prove a formidable emotional force.

Closing Statement
As a film crafted as an awards vehicle for its two stars, Rabbit Hole succeeds mightily. As a film, it leaves you high and dry, reiterating truths we already knew.

The Verdict
7/10

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