HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS - Mark Reviews Movies

Hundreds of Beavers, SRH

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Review by Mark Dujsik | January 25, 2024

Hundreds of Beavers proudly announces itself and its intentions right at the start. Here is an attempt at a live-action cartoon, brought to life by way of the aesthetic and style of a silent-era comedy. If co-writer/director Mike Cheslik's film loses a bit of momentum after its first 30 minutes, that might be a good thing. It probably wouldn't be healthy to laugh as hard and as frequently for more than a hundred minutes.

That's not, however, to say that this film loses its comedic imagination after the gloriously inspired opening act. No, this story still has plenty of surprises in store, not only in particular developments of its minimal plot, but also in how Cheslik incorporates the style of other mediums—primarily video games—and somehow turns the film's cheap-looking production—actors in animal costumes, an abundance of green screen use, animation that does the bare minimum and nothing more—to its benefit. This is clearly a labor of love on the part of the filmmakers, and the attitude on display through these techniques is that they will get it done by any means, no matter how limited and on-a-budget, necessary.

One has to admire the gumption of Cheslik's approach, but more importantly, one has to respect how well the director makes all of the material's disparate elements into a cohesive whole. The man has a vision, and here it is, intrinsically restricted but almost more enjoyable because of that fact. Cheslik knows exactly what he can do with the means and methods available to him, and by the time the rollicking chase of the third act arrives, we realize the filmmaker doesn't even consider the word "can't" in the context of bringing his ideas to life.

The story revolves around Jean Kayak (co-writer Ryland Brickson Cole Tews), a distiller of applejack (Yes, this is set and, in part, was filmed in Wisconsin, as anyone with a knowledge of hard cider might suspect). He's on top of his little part of the world—or at least atop the crowds of fur trappers who partake of his beverage on their downtime, the tables at which the hunters sing a very happy song about the booze, and the giant barrels that dispense the liquor.

Then, some beavers show up, chew on the support beams holding up the barrels, and send the last one, as well as Jean, rolling down a hill toward a fiery explosion. The timing of the blast, the sudden end of the tune, and the ensuing silence is so precise that it pretty much establishes everything we need to know about the tone and approach of the material (Cheslik also served as editor).

Obviously, Jean is fine, because this isn't real life. The trappers, cut-out paper figures that look slightly more advanced than children's drawings, and the unlikely physics have already informed us of that notion. The whole thing possesses the illogical logic of that comedic ideal of what most people think of when they hear the word "cartoon."

Take one later moment, for example, when Jean holds up a beam of wood that's part of an animal trap. He lets go of it for a beat, and of course, the wood doesn't fall and hit him on the head, because he hasn't quite realized that's what should happen. It's the same logic that, for decades, has ensured that pesky coyote who chases the beeping bird doesn't fall until he realizes he's standing over a void.

The first act, which has Jean trying to survive in the frozen wilderness without shelter or his boozy business to provide him income, just keeps such moments coming without abating. He's most concerned with finding food, which means he has to attempt to hunt and fish, but nature and those wacky physics aren't going to make it easy—or, it seems, even possible—for the guy. There are rabbits, raccoons, dogs (that play poker, until only one remains to play solitaire), wolves, and, yes, beavers—none of which easily fall for Jean's cheap trickery—in the woods, and all of the animals are just actors wearing costumes (In the case of fish, they're cute sock puppets).

It all works, partly because the film so instantly prepares us for as much silliness as possible and otherwise because the digital cinematography (by Quinn Hester) is its own convincing illusion. It's all in black-and-white, making the assorted visual seams noticeable but somehow expected, and even given a little jitter, as if we're watching the results of an operator hand-cranking an old-fashioned camera.

With all of this technique in place, Cheslik simply fills the basic structure of the tale with as many jokes as possible. Jean keeps falling into holes that suddenly pop into existence beneath him. He can't help but whistle when he's promisingly close to filling his belly, attracting a woodpecker that taps away at his head. There are many, many more, of course, but to list them would be both impossible and unfair. The important thing is that, as absurd as it intrinsically is, the internal logic stands (One particularly inspired joke has Jean intentionally stepping on pinecones in order to yell, because he knows it does the job from one experience). Meanwhile, Cheslik and Tews, who mugs for the camera with utter glee, find clever ways to develop and elaborate upon the running gags.

The traps, for example, become increasingly intricate and physically improbable, but they also become more necessary for Jean. After all, he meets a local merchant (played by Doug Mancheski), who wants coins or pelts for equipment to aid Jean's goal and has a daughter (played by Olivia Graves) with whom our hero falls in love. Taking mentorship from a master trapper (played by Wes Tank), Jean's hunting enterprise grow exponentially, but another reason the animals are played by people in costumes is that the beavers start to figure out what he's up to. That's thanks to an intrepid beaver detective and his trusty sidekick—which is just the start of revealing how intelligent and technologically advanced the buck-toothed mammals turn out to be.

The levels of enthusiasm, affection for craft (both of the stylistic and do-it-yourself varieties), and giddy humor are downright infectious here. As a result, Hundreds of Beavers is a lot of smart and very, very silly fun.

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