Rabbit Hole is about a married couple, Becca and Howie (played by Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart) who have recently lost their son in a car accident. The film follows their everyday lives eight months after the event, along with the grief and guilt that follows them.
To start, it doesn't follow your traditional movie format. It doesn't have the obvious beginning, middle and end. While watching it, you pretty much feel like you're intruding in the middle of a story and leaving too early to see it finish. Not that this is a bad thing.
It makes sense and this is why - I believe the point of this film is that no one goes through grief, through pain in the same way as anyone else. Becca's character tries to remove the memory of her son entirely from her mind, shutting it out and everyone along with it, while Howie struggles to keep it alive, opening himself up to the memories and the pain. But no matter what they do, their grief becomes something that they have to bare for the rest of their lives. The grief becomes a part of them. So, to give this film an introduction or conclusion, to give it a sort of closure, would be a lie. There is no end to the grief. It is rather the point of coping with it and accepting it, not moving on from it or leaving it behind.
"At some point it becomes bearable, it turns into something that you can crawl out from under and carry around like a brick in your pocket. You even forget about it for a while and then you reach in for whatever reason and there it is. It doesn't go away, which is... fine."
It's lines like that which made the Rabbit Hole a movie that connected with me.
The thing I most liked about the film was that I never felt as if it was trying too hard. The characters were so real. They never gave in to making it melodramatic. In some movies you can almost feel the actors trying to prick you until your tears unwillingly slide down your cheeks. But this movie was simple- in the sense that- it never expected anything from its audience. It didn't need your tears or your laughs. It acted on its own as a sort of free spirit film. It wasn't trying to extract something from those who witnessed it, but it was simply... being.
As for the acting, I expected Nicole Kidman's flawless performance, but it was Aaron Eckhart who surprised me. Personally, having never been truly impressed by Eckhart myself, I have to admit, he made a determined attempt at keeping up with Kidman. I would say he almost ranked himself at her level of expertise. But still, he didn't quite make it there either.
But Kidman, oh man, was she something.
I never once remembered that she was an actor. For those 91 minutes I completely believed that she was Becca. I was always a fan of hers and am proud to say that the admiration has only grown.
I also want to point out Dianne Weist who played Becca's mother in the film. I enjoyed her character's delicate take on grief and her honest, but always gentle, inputs on her daughter's life.
Ultimately, I give this film 8.5/10
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