Are you interested in watching a drunken applejack salesman murder hundreds of beavers (people dressed in beaver costumes) during the dead of winter in the desolation that is more commonly referred to as the wilderness of Wisconsin? If yes, then, boy, do I have the movie for you! Hundreds of Beavers, directed by Mike Cheslik and co-written by Ryland Brickson Cole Tews—a name that really rolls off the tongue—follows the winter season of Jean Kayak, Wisconsin’s most famous drunkard and applejack salesman. After a beaver destroys Jean’s orchard and the area’s leading fur trapper dies, Jean takes it upon himself to defeat the growing society of beavers and *checks notes* win the hand of the town merchant’s daughter? That sounds about right. Simply put, Jean must defeat hundreds of beavers in order to save the day. Yep, that’s about it. The film’s efficacy hinges on the simplicity of its plot, allowing the scenes to burst with creativity. The whole film’s intentionally black-and-white coloring furthers this contrast. By stripping the film of any color, dialogue, and complex narrative, the slapstick bits become emphasized to the nth degree—reminiscent of and inspired by the slapstick comedies that came before it. It’s a completely wild ride, and I was seated and fastened the entire time.
On the surface, it’s a farcical, slapstick tale of an applejack-salesman-turned-fur-trader’s ongoing squabble with a society of beavers. If you look a little deeper, though, you’d realize it’s a beautiful ode to the magic of cinema and all the technicalities of movie-making. The use of Keatonian trajectory gags makes for ongoing comedic bits that never get old. Cheslik finds consistent ways to freshen up the visual humor. Whether it’s showing two, presumably-male beavers holding hands after Jean tries to seduce them with a busty snowwoman, or if it’s a log flume chase scene through the ludicrously capacious dam made by the beavers, I was constantly struck with innovative visual humor.
Even the use of different storytelling mediums was refreshing. While there was minimal dialogue, any expositional hurdles were tackled with narrative sea shanties and animated gags to both show the passage of time and to fill in any plot holes. Hundreds of Beavers is the zenith of integrated storytelling. One of my favorite scenes comes towards the end of the film, where there is pretty much no progression of the plot in an all-or-nothing, saloon-style bar fight between Jean and a handful of rowdy beavers. This scene exemplifies the style of early 20th century filmmaking techniques and tropes—a beaver gang attacking Jean one-by-one, honky-tonk piano music escalating the fighting, sped-up and slowed-down punches and wrestling moves. It was familiar yet refreshing, the perfect combination for any watch.
You can tell whoever had a hand in making this movie adores video games, too. Since Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, I have yet to see a movie that successfully integrated a video game into the metanarrative… until Hundreds of Beavers. There were Mario party minigame-esque bits of timing a jump over a rolling log and accidentally tapping “A” a little too early and meeting your character’s untimely demise. There was the forming a Power Rangers-sized superhero by combining hundreds of smaller beavers to create a hive mind God. The list goes on and on—the most obvious, of course, being the constantly updated kill-count of all the beavers, rabbits, and raccoons, with the fur hides entering Jean’s proverbial inventory for him to trade for weapons and other sundries at the Merchant’s stand.
Hundreds of Beavers is surely an innovative and one-of-a-kind contemporary film, although it was not created in a vacuum. You can feel all the influence from films of an earlier era; the choppy cuts and magical grandeur display vestiges of Georges Méliès’ A Trip to the Moon; the falling of building scaffolding evokes images of Buster Keaton’s genius. Everything is motivated, either by narrative or inspiration from a previous auteur. If something feels random or unmotivated—which happens quite a bit—it is motivated by the pure joy of movie-making and creating something that is revolutionary yet paying homage to the slapsticks that came before it. So, if you’re interested in watching a drunken applejack salesman murder hundreds of people dressed in animal costumes during the dead of winter in the wilderness of Wisconsin, in an exciting and gut-wrenchingly hilarious new-aged black-and-white film, I recommend spending the $2.99 to rent and watch Hundreds of Beavers. This film has received the stamp of being my favorite watch of the year, and I hope it becomes yours, too.
