At some point it becomes bearable.
Whenever I'm back home I generally try to catch a film or two at one or more of the Ritzes in Philly. This time both films that I wanted to see happened to be playing at the Ritz Five, so I made an afternoon of it and watched them back-to-back. First up was Rabbit Hole, which was written by David Lindsay-Abaire, based on his Pulitzer Prize-winning play, and directed by John Cameron Mitchell, who hasn't made a film since 2006's Shortbus and really needs to do something about working more often. Rabbit Hole has little in common with that film or Mitchell's debut, the exuberant Hedwig and the Angry Inch, though. Rather, it's about a suburban couple (Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart) who lose their four-year-old son in a tragic car accident and the psychic scars that remain eight months later. Kidman is closed off yet quick with a barbed comment or put-down and Eckhart tries his best to handle her while coping with his own profound grief. He even keeps going to their support group after Kidman drops out and strikes up a tentative friendship with group veteran Sandra Oh.
For her part, Kidman has to contend with her irresponsible younger sister (Tammy Blanchard), whose unplanned pregnancy (by her musician boyfriend Giancarlo Esposito) is a painful reminder of what she's lost, and her mother (Dianne Wiest), whose endless supply of platitudes falls on hostile ears. Then she has a chance encounter with the high school senior (Miles Teller) who was driving the car that killed her son and they begin meeting for reasons neither of them is able to fully understand or articulate. By the time the closing credits roll, just about all of them have had some sort of emotional breakdown and/or blow-up, but this is not a film where epiphanies or happy endings come easy. If it was, then it would have nowhere near the power that it does. This is a film that will stay with me for a long time.