
The calibre of Kiefer Sutherland’s ventures doesn’t matter much at this point in his career. Sutherland has a devoted following that eagerly consumes everything he does (I proudly count myself among them). It almost feels like a hidden message yearning for the return of the adored TV show 24, whether it be a portrayal of a tired person in a hurry, muttering to himself as if the destiny of the world hangs in the balance. It is, in fact, true.
The intriguing development regarding Sutherland’s most recent thriller, Rabbit Hole, is that it has similarities to 24. Sutherland plays John Weir, a corporate espionage specialist who gets caught up in a large conspiracy. As the plot develops, mysterious people wearing covert earpieces navigate tense circumstances. There are times when Sutherland’s character sees a disaster coming but is unable to stop it because he is too far away. In these situations, the character cries out in desperation, “No!” before the events that were destined to happen do so. Despite the fact that it is a familiar landscape, I crave it like a Roman emperor who is fed peeled grapes.
In one rendition of Rabbit Hole, this is the exact scenario that plays out. Sutherland, who has a chiselled jaw, leaps from one emergency to the next while working alone to escape catastrophe. This dynamic is almost achieved in the first episode. Weir spends a large portion of the episode looking nervously in his rearview mirror. He is essentially a paranoid spy, aware that someone is watching him. As the plot develops, you find yourself getting invested in it, much like you would with any typical network drama with a tough but conflicted lead character. Rabbit Hole abruptly veers into a completely and permanently bizarre route, although I’ll try to avoid giving anything away.
Sutherland’s character bounces between many absurd disasters during the first episode, giving off the impression of a prestige drama, Mr. Bean. There were hints of this from the beginning—the frigid opening ends with Sutherland confessing and exclaiming, “God? Maybe he can explain to me what the fuck is going on!” to the priest, who must be very disturbed. But at this point, the absurdity soars to unfathomable heights. And what about that? It’s wonderful.
The fundamental reason for this is that, unlike 24 where the bizarre occurrences occurred as a result of the programme relentlessly consuming ideas, Rabbit Hole seemed to embrace its own absurdity merely for amusement. Even in the midst of the pandemonium, there is a definite lightness. Weir, as portrayed by Sutherland, isn’t a fully realised hero; he’s too frustrated and confused for that. He quarrels, makes jokes, and even loses to adolescent skateboarders in fights. As a result, Sutherland seems to be having a good time, which is unusual—aside from the video showing him falling into a Christmas tree, when was the last time that could be said?
The show is further improved by the presence of an extraordinarily energetic cast. Charles Dance is just as ready to have fun as Sutherland in his role as a guy whose identity is revealed courtesy of amazing prosthetic work in flashbacks. But Meta Golding is the one who really makes the show exciting. Golding, who was previously renowned for a supporting role in the Hunger Games movie, gives an outstanding performance. Her character vacillates between being a “hostage” and a “love interest,” which can be difficult on paper. In spite of this, she gives it such rapid-fire intensity that she steals the show in every scene she is in. Dance and Sutherland have never had such good chemistry with another actor. She truly is a revelation.
The ambiguity surrounding Rabbit Hole’s identity is the main drawback, if there is one. It occasionally adopts a lighthearted screwball comedic atmosphere, while other times it switches to a full-throttle action thriller. The main theme—a scheme to sabotage American democracy and topple the US—seems to seize the chance to make a significant commentary on the situation in the world. The series lacks a consistent tone and veers in many different directions. If I had to guess, Rabbit Hole feels like it was originally intended to be one thing, but it underwent considerable alterations throughout development to satisfy everyone’s ideas of what it should be. As a result, it occasionally makes for a disjointed viewing experience.
Such problems can, however, be easily fixed. At its best, Rabbit Hole perfectly encapsulates the humour-infused ethos of 24. Maybe that ought to be the main emphasis of season two. After all, a second season is inevitable.