Depth Is Missing in "Rabbit Hole"

"Rabbit Hole"

Written by David Lindsay-Abaire; directed by John Tillinger; scenic design by James Noone; costume design by Laurie Churba; lighting design by Dennis Parichy; original music and sound design by John Gromada

 

Cast in order of appearance:

Becca, Donna Bullock

Izzy, Geneva Carr

Howie, Jordan Lage

Nat, Maureen Anderman

Jason, Troy Deutsch

 

Performances: Now through December 3

Box Office: 617-266-0800 or www.huntingtontheatre.org

 

In the program notes for the Huntington Theatre Company's current production of "Rabbit Hole," playwright David Lindsay-Abaire is quoted as saying, "I wasn't quite sure what this play was when I wrote it. Honestly, I didn't even know if it was funny at all, which worried me. Given the topic, a part of me worried: good Lord, is this play just unbearably sad?"

 

As an audience member watching this cross between Sisters and a Hallmark Hall of Fame special, I asked myself similar questions: what is this play, and what was the point of it being written in the first place? Abaire says it was to explore in an absurdist, funny way the profound grief that comes from suddenly losing a child. Well, writing "Rabbit Hole" may have provided some sort of catharsis for Abaire as a new father, but for the discriminating theatergoer, this turgid drama languishes lost in a universe somewhere between dark comedy and penetrating tragedy.

 

Two seasons ago Bryony Lavery's gripping "Frozen" gave us a mother emotionally paralyzed by the abduction and presumed murder of one of her two daughters. Relentless in its honest portrayal of a woman coming to terms with loss by confronting the sociopath who caused her grief, "Frozen" dared to visit the inner darkness of both perpetrator and victim. Last season, Martin McDonaugh turned childhood trauma into a deeply disturbing but riotously funny excursion into the macabre with his absurd yet ultimately affecting "The Pillowman."

 

Abaire's "Rabbit Hole" commits to neither emotionally charged point of view. His writing is safe and superficial, alternating between Dr. Phil-like platitudes about dealing with grief and throw-away bits about the Kennedys and Three Stooges. There are some moments of real pain and welcomed comic relief, but overall the play's impact is inconsequential.

 

At the center of "Rabbit Hole" is the uber organized Becca, the ultimate suburban mom whose four-year-old son, Danny, was killed in an automobile accident. Practical to the point of coldness, Becca tries to manage her grief by ridding the house of painful reminders. Howie, her sensitive husband, does just the opposite: he immerses himself in memories and embraces the warmth of a support group. Becca's wise-cracking but well-meaning mother, Nat, offers unwelcome consolation by comparing the death of her 30-year-old drug-addicted son Arthur to Becca's loss of Danny. Becca's younger, irresponsible sister, Izzy, is little help as her unplanned pregnancy triggers a longing in Becca that can't be ignored.

 

Such a family dynamic could, and should, be fodder for real dramatic tension. But every time director John Tillinger's cast gets close to being impaled on either the comic or tragic barbs of raw, exposed grief, they are pulled back to the safety of easy resolutions. Even the most interesting and compelling aspect of "Rabbit Hole" (from which Abaire draws his title) turns out to be anticlimactic. Toward the end of the play, a troubled young man named Jason presents Becca with a story about parallel universes that are connected to each other by small corridors of gravity called rabbit holes. As he discusses the possibility – no, probability – of people living many alternate lives simultaneously, we start to imagine possible means of escape for Becca into other metaphorical, if not metaphysical, worlds. Unfortunately, what results instead is a simplistic sense of hope that is too easily adopted by the heretofore spiritually bereft pragmatist. Here as elsewhere we are offered the possibility of depth, but once again we are not taken beyond the shallows.

 

As the overly composed Becca, Donna Bullock is often placid instead of self-protected. Instead of armor concealing anguish we see a cool, unsympathetic willfulness. Her scenes with her husband, Jordan Lage as Howie, never gel. While he manages to be more convincing when tender than when angry, the two together play their emotional detachment so literally that we feel no connection between them at all, not even a painful one.

 

Geneva Carr as Izzy and Maureen Anderman as Nat fare better, especially when playing the comedy that Abaire has cleverly written for them. Their characters are spontaneous and clearly defined, and there is a spark to their exchanges that is comfortable and natural. Troy Deutsch as the socially hesitant Jason is also quite good. The conflicts with which he struggles are visible just beneath the surface, and his anguish at engaging with Becca is palpable.

 

Sets by James Noone are suitably pristine and well organized. They suggest the exquisitely maintained facade of a family trying to make everything look perfect. It might have been nice to see an errant toy discovered in the cushions, though. Such a simple crack in the veneer could have given Becca and "Rabbit Hole" a greater sense of humanity.

 

PHOTO CREDITS:

 

1) Jordan Lage and Donna Bullock

2) Geneva Carr and Maureen Anderman

3) Donna Bullock and Troy Deutsch

 

Photos by Eric Antoniou

 

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