Hundreds of Beavers

This DIY feature by indie filmmaking pals Mike Cheslik and Ryland Tews is a clever homage to Looney Tunes cartoons and silent comedy shorts, which utilizes its lack of traditional production values to great advantage. Tews stars as applejack maker Jean Kayak, who loses his tress to some pesky beavers and his own drunken negligence and is left to fend for himself in the winter wilderness of the rural Northwest. Most of the film consists of Kayak trying to catch rabbits and fish to eat as well as beavers to trade with a local Furrier. He's also menaced by wolves, a woodpecker, and the industrious beavers themselves, while trying to win the hand of the Furrier's daughter.

Made on a shoestring budget over several months in the snowy woods using a six-person crew, a DSL camera, and a whole lot of post-production, Hundreds of Beavers succeeds where most low-budget, home movie-style indies (and stupid wannabe cult movies like Cocaine Bear) run out of gas. It's not easy to keep this type of slapstick comedy engaging for a picture that runs over 90 minutes. There's a reason short subjects are... short. But Cheslik and crew are to be commended. Most filmmakers who try to make live-action Warner Bros cartoons make the mistake of emulating Tex Avery, whose over-the-top, hyper-exaggerated style was brilliant and hilarious for seven minutes but becomes exhausting when stretched out to feature-length homage. Even movies like The Mask and Who Framed Roger Rabbit suffer from too much Avery imitation. These filmmakers, however, seem more to emulate Chuck Jones—especially his Road Runner cartoons, as the film utilizes almost no dialogue. Kayak is a frustrated mash-up of Wile E. Coyote and Elmer Fudd trying to catch his various elusive prey. Then, in scenes where he interacts with other humans, he comes across more like a Buster Keaton character.

There are plenty of references to classic and obscure movies, video games, children's books, and many other touchstones. Nothing about the movie feels one-note or repetitive, even though the repetition of many of the gags is part of what makes them so funny. The laughs come fast and furious, and, critically, they build on each other to create a solid enough narrative that we become invested in the characters enough so that we're not looking at our watches waiting for them to get to "That's All Folks!" (Ok, we sometimes are. This movie could have used a little pruning, but it's so much more fun and engaging than most comedies I've seen recently, and certainly better than most movies that emulate cartoons). The conceit of having all the animals played by full-sized actors in stiff mascot-style body suits, then maneuvering everyone around in Adobe After Effects as if each character were a two-dimensional cut-out works beautifully. The pixely, high-contrast monochrome video not only hides a multitude of sins, it also creates an ideal canvas for this homemade work of live-action animation to play out. The movie is a hoot, best enjoyed with a large crowd of all ages in a nice big theater.