Rabbit Hole

This is a well-written play that tugs the heartstrings without being overly sentimental or manipulative. It is a tough subject to be sure, but the playwright adeptly mixes in just enough humor to keep it from becoming downright depressing. There is also hope that the central couple will overcome the fallout from this tragic event to repair their own relationship and come to terms with their loss. The writing is naturalistic to the point that I heard conversations that I've had with my own wife. I chuckled as the husband dug himself a hole than struggled to get out of it to no avail. Gentlemen, be prepared for a few lessons! I have not seen a production of this play, but I imagine that care must be taken by those involved not to allow any of the performances to become self-indulgent. There are even notes to this effect in the forward by the author himself. Danger, danger -- this play could be a depressing mess if done poorly!!! It wouldn't surprise me to see this become a movie in the next few years. I'd love to see it mounted as an independent film with the original Broadway cast.

If you like the dramatic and enjoy plays that move your heart and soul, then Rabbit Hole is for you. This wonderfully written play revolves around a family still coping with the death of their four-year-old son, Danny, who is killed when he accidently chases the family dog into the street. It is a play about bereavement, loss, coping, family and finally, forgiveness. The great thing about Rabbit Hole is that it is very contemporary and ready for the modern theatre audience.

Dealing with the most traumatic event any parent can endure--the death of a child--David Lindsay-Abaire manages to involve his audience in the grieving process and illustrate how we all grieve differently and for different lengths of time. Despite the subject matter, this 2007 Pulitzer Prize-winning play is often extremely funny, setting up emotional contrasts between ironic humor and infinite sadness which make the loss of the child more poignant, without dissolving into bathos. Danny, a four-year-old chasing his dog, has been struck and killed by a car driven by a seventeen-year-old driver, and the family is trying to cope with their grief. As the play opens, Becca, the child's mother, is folding the laundry--Danny's clothes--which she has just washed in preparation for giving them away. She has internalized her feelings, refusing group therapy, any religious counseling, and especially the advice of her overbearing mother. Her husband Howie goes to work, attends group therapy, becomes friends with some of the other grieving parents, and tries to coax Becca into becoming a wife again. Among the other characters, Nat, Becca's mother, has all the pat answers, and she equates the loss of this child with her own loss of her adult son, something she insists on emphasizing to Becca. Izzy, Becca's sister, an off-the-wall case of arrested development, has been having an affair and is now pregnant, an eventuality with which Becca must now learn to cope, especially since Izzy has used Danny's death as an excuse for her irresponsible behavior. Jason, the seventeen-year-old driver of the car, is also trying to come to grips with the events, blaming himself, reliving every moment, searching for some sort of forgiveness which he is not sure he deserves. As the characters interact, we see them as individuals, not just as participants in the terrible drama of their shattered world, but we also see that grief is not and cannot be a full-time activity. Many moments of humor make their lives more realistic and provide relief for the audience. As the eight months from Danny's death until the end of the play elapse, we see changes in all the characters, but the play ends (blessedly) without pat answers. Each character is different, reacting differently to the Danny's death, grieving their loss differently, and learning to cope differently. The audience, drawn into the events, will also react differently, respond to different characters in different ways, and imagine differently how they themselves would respond. Moving, memorable, and ultimately uplifting. n Mary Whipple

Dramatist David Lindsay-Abaire says his Pulitzer-winning Rabbit Hole "is not a tidy play," and he urges companies to resist smoothing out the show's edges. Those rough edges are understandable, though, in a story about a couple traumatized by the accidental death of their four-year-old son. Nothing about that could possibly be tidy. Of course, if Rabbit Hole decided to be a melodrama, then it could easily be tidied up. Fortunately, Lindsay-Abaire resists that at all costs. He keeps the play real and, in doing so, keeps it immediate and, at times, emotionally painful. It's not a ball-your-eyes-out kind of emotional pain, though; it's a punch-to-the-throat emotional pain. There is a rawness to it. While Rabbit Hole would certainly carry even more impact if performed--since that's why plays are written--it holds up extremely well on the page. From the first scene, Lindsay-Abaire unfolds the story gradually, using adeptly written dialogue to offer one small surprise turn after another. As a result, you learn about the characters in little steps, which keeps you interested in them and what they're up to. At the core of the play is probably the most horrific scenario any parent can imagine: the death of a child. In Rabbit Hole, the child's death has happened eight months prior to the start of the play. We meet the parents lost in the wilderness of their own separate griefs, unable to find their way out or find each other. The play is about that search and what a parent might find. The play may be affirming...but it might not be, either. That's up to the reader. One thing's for sure, though: Whatever you find, it will be heartfelt and real.

I was lucky enough to see this play, starred by the wonderful Cynthia Nixon, in New York and after it won the Pulitzer, I was curious to revisit it, this time in writing. The Pulitzer board chose well. David Lindsay-Abaire writes about the worst nightmare for any parent -the loss of a child- in a way that feels very real: grief-stricken and moving, yet restrained and never maudlin.