There are very few reasons to not find Rabbit Hole to be an incredibly compelling and worthwhile film. Coming in at a neat 91-minutes, John Cameron Mitchell has turned the acclaimed stage play by David Lindsay-Abaire into a powerful drama about grief that hits hard and leaves us reeling in emotions in how it explores the theme of loss and the aftermath of a traumatic incident, and how it impacts the family dynamic. It features some terrific performances (especially from an actor who is known to be mannered to the point where his entire career has hit a plateau due to his unremarkable nature as a performer in other films), and touches on an array of important issues that are explored with poise and sophistication through this film. Mitchell, who is a director who rarely receives the kudos he deserves for his small but historically resonant canon of work, carefully guides the play to the screen in such a way that the world is expanded just enough to justify the process, but keeping with the spirit of the original production to remain faithful to the intricate, character-driven storytelling that is done so exceptionally well in this film. In short, Rabbit Hole is a stunning work of socially charged fiction that goes about covering the subject of trauma through wonderfully complex work that sometimes feels overqualified for the film it is being used for. However, through the process of expanding on Lindsay-Abaire’s world, Mitchell and his collaborators find a new level of undying devotion to the many tragic stories of families being torn apart unexpectedly, both the victims who befall some unpredictable fate, and those who had to witness their lives falling apart in front of them, damaged to the point where any hope of recovery is impossible, but not for a lack of trying.

The film focuses on an ordinary suburban couple, Becca (Nicole Kidman) and Howie (Aaron Eckhart), who are trying to spend what remains of their time together in some kind of harmony. The reason they’re being drawn apart comes from the fact that they experienced something no parent should ever have to know – their four-year-old son died after being struck by a car, which was driven by the young and reckless Jason (Miles Teller), a teenager who made a poor decision on a fateful day, and now as a result has to live with the crushing guilt of not only accidentally taking the life of someone who had barely started his, but also of being the spectre for a family that has tried to forgive him for his role in their son’s death, but can’t move beyond the fact that he still roams the streets, while their beloved son was gone forever, a difficult fact to reconcile. Both Becca and Howie deal with this crisis on their own – Howie begins a relationship with Gabby (Sandra Oh), another parent of a deceased child that he met at one of their group therapy meetings (which Becca stopped attending, as she felt it was only circumventing her trauma and trying to make it more palatable), since this new relationship can provide the carnal and emotional satiation he has been craving from his wife, who remains as frigid and uncaring as she has ever been, too traumatized by the past to ever even entertain the possibility to looking towards the future. In turn, she has secretly begun meeting with Jason in the local park, right near where their son was struck, and they begin an unlikely friendship, being massively important in each other’s healing process, showing on one side that accidents do happen, and on the other that these actions, can have some very serious consequences. It’s not about forgiveness, nor is it about forgetting – everyone gets a second chance, and whether we use it or not, it remains an important point of contention for many insightful discussions that a film like Rabbit Hole helps inspire.

Nicole Kidman occupies a strange place in the culture – she’s a talented actress, but her skills are often overblown when she appears in something that doesn’t quite match what she is capable of doing, with the general sentiment being that, regardless of the project, she is giving some superlative performance, when in actuality she fails just as much as she succeeds. I tend to attribute this to the fact that one of her more distinct qualities is that she is an actress willing to take some risks. Rabbit Hole isn’t an easy project to have taken on, despite the fact that it seems to be relatively simple in how it functions as a domestic drama between a few pivotal characters and their interactions over a short period of time. However, the film itself may be straightforward, but Kidman’s performance is certainly one of her best. It has the actress at her most natural and visceral, brimming with a fragile elegance that we don’t normally see from her, normally since most of her performances have her play more self-assured, solid characters who don’t have to plumb these same harrowing emotional depths. Kidman is remarkable, as is Aaron Eckhardt, an actor who has yet to prove himself as a dramatic performer, despite having attempted it many times before. There are some moments where he struggles to realize the extent to which his character needs to be stretched, but he does do relatively well, and finds the humanity in a character that could’ve so easily been far more unlikable, considering his arc. A special mention must be given to the divine Dianne Wiest, who steals the entire film with her wonderfully endearing performance as Kidman’s mother, who herself is in grief over the death of her own son. Some incredible moments are featuring Wiest, which leads one to conclude that she was far more than just a peripheral character, and an entirely different story could’ve easily been told that just focused on the mother-daughter relationship between Becca and Nat, which might’ve been far more compelling than the more flimsy narrative focused on Becca trying to absolve the person who accidentally killed her son as a way to come to peace with her loss.

Trauma is a difficult subject to fully-grasp, since its almost a binary concept – either someone knows the feeling, or they don’t, and no matter how much one tries to understand it, if you fall into the latter category, there’s very little chance of fully realizing the sensation. There are obviously different degrees of trauma, and Rabbit Hole looks at one that is widely considered one of the most harrowing, the loss of a child. The fact that this very experience is almost universally considered one no one should ever have to endure immediately tells you how difficult the story at the centre of this film was to put together, since it required a careful calibration of exploring both the unmitigated grief of having a child die, and the possibility to moving on. Rabbit Hole isn’t a film about wallowing in the grief – if anything, the film being set nearly a year after the event implies that it is more concerned with looking at the process of moving on, and how this can be exceptionally difficult in many situations. Recovery is an important theme, insofar as it is shown to be something that is nearly impossible. As we see reflected in all the major characters, regardless of how much time is supposed to heal all wounds, there is very little chance to fully move away from the past. Rather, it’s a matter of muting the heartbreaking feelings, and dulling the harsh memories in any way that helps the individual look forward. Whether it be through group support sessions that aim to help give guidance to those who have felt the loss, or through infidelity that is used as a means to distract from the past, the film doesn’t imply that there is any singularly correct way to mourn. One of the most significant avenues that the film traverses is that of addressing the past directly, interacting with the people who are responsible for the pain and giving them a chance to redemption, and in the process finding peace with the entire situation. It doesn’t placate the feelings, or make them more palatable or easy to endure – but when it comes to moving forward, there are many different ways to see the brighter horizons, as difficult as that may be to believe in the midst of all the heartwrenching trauma one experiences.

Rabbit Hole is a fascinating film – it’s easy to see why it is one that many don’t particularly enjoy, since it is undeniably a difficult film to sit through, since both the subject matter and the methods with which it is approached is quite stark and unforgiving, with very few moments of levity scattered throughout this otherwise grim story of human trauma. However, there are many ways in which it is an absolute triumph – the acting is absolutely impeccable, featuring an astonishing, career-best performance from Nicole Kidman, and the writing really services the actors exceptionally well (one of the benefits of having a playwright adapt their own work). The atmosphere created by the film is also impeccable, with Mitchell adding some vivid flair to material that could’ve so easily fallen victim to the dour minimalism that is effective on stage, but doesn’t always find a home on screen. There’s a certain optimism lurking beneath the cold-hearted cynicism that tends to pervade the film, and Mitchell finds the perfect balance between the two, creating a film that may be about mourning death, but gradually grows into a steadfast celebration of life, whether it be the reminder of those that have departed us, or the path forward, which may be void of all of our loved ones, but is not any less important to pursue, since there’s always hope lingering just out of sight, and paying attention to our own journey is just as important as remembering those who have left it – and its due to these profoundly moving metaphysical statements that Rabbit Hole becomes something quite meaningful.