Rabbit Hole
Rabbit Hole
By David Lindsay-Albaire
Directed by Kevin Bee
Starring Jamie-Lyn Hawkins, Jenifer Gannon, Dean Walkuski
Theater Downtown, Orlando FL</strong>
Ultimately there is no way to replace the loss of a loved one, except by putting one foot ahead of the other and walking ahead in life. Howie (Walkuski) and Becca (Hawkins) lost 4 year old Danny to Jason’s (Josh Paul) careening down their street 3 miles over the limit. Anger threatens to tear them apart as they exchange brittle barbs that sound oh-so-familiar. Becca’s sister Izzy (Gannon) is no help, she gets into bar fights and pregancies without a second thought to anyone else’s feeling, and her thoughtless reproduction seems the flaunt Howie and Becca’s pain. They’ve tried the superficial and useless, cleansing their lives of Danny’s presence, building shrines, seeking counseling, infidelity and alcohol, but all are useless. Only life will cure unexpected death.
It’s’ a dark, meaty play, well done and surprisingly upbeat at the end. Walkuski gives another excellent performance, and continuing to show development as one of Orlando’s best middle aged white guy actors. Jennifer Gannon’s Izzy also shows her development as an actress, and Lori McCaskill as Nat, mother to the two girls shows here own vulnerability as she resolves another child’s death. And young Jason wrote a story about his own life and dedicated it to Danny – another strategy, and one I find helpful in my own life.
There’s a humanity lurking in this play that modern stagecraft so often replaces with spectacle or Disneyfied music. When Howie finally succumbs to his wife insistence they attend a barbeque with old friends, he looks stunned. But he walks himself through the evening, agrees the result won’t be horrible, and stand up to go do what has to be done. Becca’s already found her resolution by discussion Jason’s story with him, and Nat talks endlessly about her loss as she putters around Becca’s house. If theater mirrors life, this is a highly polished reflection, and it holds us up at our worse and our best: when we have to convince ourselves that we have no choice but to soldier on.
For more information, please visit http://www.theatredowntown.net
