"The weight of it."By John DeSando, WCBE's "It's Movie Time," "Cinema Classics," and "On the Marquee"
"Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form."
Shakespeare, King John
Grief over the loss of a child in the last thirty years mostly produces movies about grief: Ordinary People (1980) to Remember Me (2009)?a long tradition of sentimentality until this year when John Cameron Mitchell directs Rabbit Hole, which tells the story of a child lost to an automible accident and allows a little levity and modest philosophy to win over wailing and sentiment.
Becca (Nicole Kidman) is disturbed by the loss of her four-year old son to an automobile accident, for which the grief has yet to abate, notably appearing in her withdrawing from social circles, attending somber group sessions with her less-grieving husband, Howie (Aaron Eckhart), and tending a garden, whose symbolic value cannot be denied. Howie is readier to redirect their lives into a social intercourse that allows others to grieve in peace with them.
Where I find the humor I don't know, just a feeling that the heaviness is not as imprisoning as other recent weepers such as the loss of a son to drowning in On a Clear Day (2005). I am impressed that the arc of this grief does not indulge in haranguing others for their children's survival, even though some of that naturally occurs.
I also favor the film's unorthodox moments of Becca's befriending the young man, Jason (Miles Teller), who drove the murderous car. Mitchell navigates the scenes with a quiet intensity that feels natural when the circumstances could have called for melodrama.
When Howie develops a friendship with also grieving mom, Gaby (Sandra Oh), that veers toward infidelity, the circumstance reveals the depth of his grief and love for his wife rather than a salacious surrender to the clich? of a frigid wife sending her husband to understanding arms.
As I became more engrossed in the film than I had predicted for myself, I was aware of the live dramatic qualities only to discover that writer David Lindsay-Abaire had adapted this screenplay from his own play. The sense of life being lived in its immediate sadness as if live from the stage complements both screen images and reality.
It's hard to believe a film can elicit serenity from such a tormenting subject. It does so while it suggests a rabbit hole of grief that will never end but will live in peaceful coexistence with its worthy mourners. Becca asks her mom, Nat (Diane Wiest), if the grief ever goes away, to which the mother, who lost her thirty-year-old son to heroin, responds:
"No, "It changes. The weight of it. At some point, it becomes bearable, and you forget about it for a while. But it's what you've got instead of your son, so you carry it around."
John DeSando co-hosts WCBE 90.5's It's Movie Time, Cinema Classics, and On the Marquee, which can be heard streaming at http://publicbroadcasting.net/wcbe/ppr/index.shtml and on demand at http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/wcbe/arts.artsmain Contact him at JDeSando@Columbus.RR.com