“Hundreds of Beavers” - Film Review
With a name like Hundreds of Beavers, one expects that through the course of the runtime beavers will appear. What one might not expect is that the beavers are not the product of CGI or actual beavers, but people in ridiculous beaver mascot costumes. There probably aren’t literally hundreds, that’s just a trick of filmmaking, but Hundreds of Beavers makes the promise that the audience will see beavers, hundreds of them, and the film sure makes good on that promise.
Jean Kayak (Ryland Brickson Cole Tews) is a wildly successful applejack salesman in the 19th century. The audience is introduced to him through an earworm of a song in the style of the “Ballad of Davy Crockett” by Fess Parker that, if there’s any justice in the world, will earn a Best Original Song nomination. All is well for Jean, the applejack is flowing, he has a warm place to call home in this stark tundra, and it seems he’s set for life. Then along comes a beaver who chews through the leg of Jean’s applejack keg, which then rolls into Jean’s fireplace and promptly explodes. Jean has nothing now. He’s alone, cold, and hungry, forced to start his life again. Jean stumbles across a merchant (Doug Mancheski) who offers various tools of survival in exchange for the hides of beavers. Jean must now go from applejack salesman to master trapper to survive and win the affection of the merchant’s daughter (Olivia Graves).
courtesy of Mike Cheslik
Hundreds of Beavers is a mostly silent film. The sparse lines of actual dialogue are doled out with immense comedic effect. Have you lived if you haven’t heard someone in a beaver costume, in the midst of a trial, shout, “j’accuse” after nearly an hour-and-a-half of grunts and incoherent mumbles? Hundreds of Beavers is the sort of harebrained concept that shouldn’t work, but because it does, it’s bewitching from the opening sequence. The combination of two-dimensional drawings, live-action characters, and bizarre effects creates a startling sensation. The love of filmmaking, the admiration of technological developments, and a reverence for how much moviemaking has changed in its relatively short existence are on full display here. Hundreds of Beavers is a madcap blend of what’s old and what’s new. It’s as though Buster Keaton has been reincarnated in the souls of hundreds of beavers and one ever-determined trapper.
People like to say that the movie industry is dying. That there are no new ideas and we’re just endlessly recycling stories that have already been told. Hundreds of Beavers is proof that this fear is entirely unfounded. If one wanted to be pretentious about it, Hundreds of Beavers is a Sisyphean effort by one man to conquer nature. Or it’s a wild slapstick comedy for the ages that saves its one perfectly executed dick joke for the final act. The amount of planning that had to go into the script to make sure every single gag, pratfall, and shenanigan was funny without overstaying its welcome is a feat on its own. To do that and create a film that stands so far apart from the rest is a demonstration of the magic of movies. Hundreds of Beavers is unlike anything from this century or any before it, an act of filmmaking deeply rooted in passion, effort, and beavers.
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