There’s a danger of over-complicating HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS; this is a story of man versus beaver (hundreds of them) with a gag rate as high as AIRPLANE and Marge vs. the Monorail. It could be about the embarrassment of trying and failing repeatedly. Our hero, an applejack salesman called Jean Kayak, slips and trips, fumbles and tumbles his way through a snowy tundra in pursuit of becoming a successful fur trapper after a beaver destroys his farm. These beavers – and the rabbits, racoons and wolves of the forest – are all actors in mascot uniforms with comically oversized heads and a clumsiness from being visually impaired in a big furry costume. There will not be a sillier movie released this year.
To be serious about the film might be missing the point. However, there is something about the failure one opens oneself up to in pursuit of a goal that invites mortifying self-awareness. Jean repeatedly builds contraptions that don’t work, his marks constantly outsmart him, and this almost always results in significant injury, conveniently glossed over by the next scene. So far, so Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner. His dogged determination is between admirable and insane. Attempt after attempt ends in pain and humiliation. It might be told in the most slapstick of ways, but the more Jean dusts himself off and has another go, the more HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS feels like it is about the vulnerability, the scrutiny, the whole and entire egg on your face of giving something a shot.
It is proudly indebted to the silent cinema of the early 1900s and the Looney Tunes – his farm is called Jean Kayak’s Acme Applejack, a nice tip of the hat – bringing together the exaggerated physicality of both and playing within the invulnerability of the latter. One conversation is communicated through intertitles, but every other vocalisation is a kind of muttered gibberish or howling exclamation. British audiences of a certain age might be reminded of the children’s classic Zzzap, with its cartoonish gestures and intelligible dialogue. Each attack – on man or rodent – is accompanied by a thwacking noise commonly found in over-the-top kung fu cinema. There is also a strong video game influence, especially in how Jean trades with a merchant for better beaver-hunting tools and how a little kill count appears after each successful hit. As a result, the film seems to liberate itself from the constraints of live-action cinema and ends up feeling closer to an animated feature. Characters scuttle unbelievably across unreal landscapes, balance atop big balls of snow, and slingshot themselves away from danger.
“It does not look great despite its jump-cut cardboard cut-out aesthetic; it looks great because of it. With criticism mounting towards hundred-million-dollar blockbusters that lack any sort of visual aesthetic or daringness, HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS is an antithetic balm, so completely distinct, looking unlike anything else released this year – or any other year of the 21st century.”
The creative duo of Mike Cheslik (director, screenwriter, editor, visual effects) and Rylan Tews (screenwriter and the role of Jean) show what can be achieved with clarity of vision on a shoestring budget. Like an independent video game, a passion project rather than a box office behemoth, it looks incredible by having a striking identity without getting bogged down in marvellous technical accomplishments. It does not look great despite its jump-cut cardboard cut-out aesthetic; it looks great because of it. With criticism mounting towards hundred-million-dollar blockbusters that lack any sort of visual aesthetic or daringness, HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS is an antithetic balm, so completely distinct, looking unlike anything else released this year – or any other year of the 21st century.
There is something undeniably boyish about it all, as Jean and all his buck-toothed adversaries appear to be male. For example, he lures some towards a trap by building a buxom beaver beauty out of snow. It brings to mind Pierre Coffin, the creator of the Minions, which bear some resemblance to how the beavers behave, explaining his creatures are all male because they are ‘dumb and stupid’, something which could be said of HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS as the highest of praise. It is similar to Jackass in that regard, in which a whole load of testosterone ultimately results in wacky, lovable violence.
The film is as comic as Jean is relentless, and its creativity never gets old. In relishing its influences, it brings them to mind fondly while placing itself among them. The effect isn’t unlike nostalgia, a longing for when humour appealed to our childish side, uncomplicated and universal; it is the easiest way to plaster a smile across your face for 100 minutes. You are unlikely to find a funnier or more inventive film this year.