In a bizarre way, Hundreds of Beavers kind of constitutes closure for me. It's the closest thing we'll get to a proper live-action Looney Tunes film (because, yeah, there was a time when even I looked at cartoons and went "This I gotta see in three dimensions").
When I saw Space Jam and Looney Tunes: Back in Action in my youth, I was disappointed and didn't fully understand why until later: The movies are about a group of characters coming together to stop bad guys and helping each other out. That's not the Looney Tunes. The Looney Tunes are supposed to annoy, beat the snot out of, and try to consume each other, oft in hilariously elaborate ways that can only happen in cartoons -- or, as it were, in the RIGHT type of live-action film.
Hundreds of Beaver is more or less that film, but visually, it is closer to a picture by Charlie Chaplin -- the original live-action cartoon -- with a few dashes of old video games and YouTube Poops. Yet, it all flows together perfectly, creating a world wherein there's a method to the madness, consistency to the chaos, and logic to the surrealism. We find ourselves immersed, understanding the rules and geography of this surreal slapstick realm of cartoon physics and AVGN-tier animal suits.
Set in 19th-century North America at the height of winter (that's about as specific as the film gets), the story follows an applejack salesman who is forced to become a fur trapper, fighting against the elements to capture enough animals to win the hand of a local merchant's daughter, using all sorts of intricate traps and schemes to do so. Meanwhile, the local beavers don't take kindly to this bearded menace. He learns that they may have been involved in him losing his applejack business.
It is, for all its influences, one of the most truly unique movies I've seen in a while. It is constantly zany and rife with visual cleverness -- with some gags that become important near the third act (allow me to propose the screenwriting term Chekov's Snot-cicle). The one complaint I can imagine people will have is that it feels just a touch too long.
In my mind, the story is sufficiently interesting -- and the gags and setpieces sufficiently varied -- to justify the runtime. But because of its hectic nature, a given minute of screentime will have so many things going on that it seems like several minutes -- not in the sense that it's tedious but in the sense that it's dense. I imagine it can be exhausting for some but as I've mentioned, the film is varied enough that you should be fine. At times, it gets close to feeling repetitive; at that same time, it does something out-of-pocket and treats us to some new sight. (Besides, the repetition is sometimes part of the humor, evoking the rhythm/structure of those silent 'toons of old.)
What's undeniable is the devotion of these filmmakers -- the "commitment to the bit" as the young uns might put it. Each scene represents just as much effort and silly wit as the last, never once failing to capture the intended vibe and look (sans maybe one shot where the backgrounds, as stupid as this may sound, look too much like a real forest).
The actors are having the time of their lives with this material and the music, cinematography, and directing in general consistently achieve that "old, wordless cartoon" feel. Real ones might know Mike Cheslik and Ryland Brickson Cole Tews for 2018's Lake Michigan Monster and the 2016 short film L. I. P. S., but if there's any good in the world, these will soon be widely known names.
Regardless of my notes above, I think you'll have a blast with Hundreds of Beavers -- and feel free to partake in the official drinking game posted by the filmmakers.
When I saw Space Jam and Looney Tunes: Back in Action in my youth, I was disappointed and didn't fully understand why until later: The movies are about a group of characters coming together to stop bad guys and helping each other out. That's not the Looney Tunes. The Looney Tunes are supposed to annoy, beat the snot out of, and try to consume each other, oft in hilariously elaborate ways that can only happen in cartoons -- or, as it were, in the RIGHT type of live-action film.
Hundreds of Beaver is more or less that film, but visually, it is closer to a picture by Charlie Chaplin -- the original live-action cartoon -- with a few dashes of old video games and YouTube Poops. Yet, it all flows together perfectly, creating a world wherein there's a method to the madness, consistency to the chaos, and logic to the surrealism. We find ourselves immersed, understanding the rules and geography of this surreal slapstick realm of cartoon physics and AVGN-tier animal suits.
Set in 19th-century North America at the height of winter (that's about as specific as the film gets), the story follows an applejack salesman who is forced to become a fur trapper, fighting against the elements to capture enough animals to win the hand of a local merchant's daughter, using all sorts of intricate traps and schemes to do so. Meanwhile, the local beavers don't take kindly to this bearded menace. He learns that they may have been involved in him losing his applejack business.
It is, for all its influences, one of the most truly unique movies I've seen in a while. It is constantly zany and rife with visual cleverness -- with some gags that become important near the third act (allow me to propose the screenwriting term Chekov's Snot-cicle). The one complaint I can imagine people will have is that it feels just a touch too long.
In my mind, the story is sufficiently interesting -- and the gags and setpieces sufficiently varied -- to justify the runtime. But because of its hectic nature, a given minute of screentime will have so many things going on that it seems like several minutes -- not in the sense that it's tedious but in the sense that it's dense. I imagine it can be exhausting for some but as I've mentioned, the film is varied enough that you should be fine. At times, it gets close to feeling repetitive; at that same time, it does something out-of-pocket and treats us to some new sight. (Besides, the repetition is sometimes part of the humor, evoking the rhythm/structure of those silent 'toons of old.)
What's undeniable is the devotion of these filmmakers -- the "commitment to the bit" as the young uns might put it. Each scene represents just as much effort and silly wit as the last, never once failing to capture the intended vibe and look (sans maybe one shot where the backgrounds, as stupid as this may sound, look too much like a real forest).
The actors are having the time of their lives with this material and the music, cinematography, and directing in general consistently achieve that "old, wordless cartoon" feel. Real ones might know Mike Cheslik and Ryland Brickson Cole Tews for 2018's Lake Michigan Monster and the 2016 short film L. I. P. S., but if there's any good in the world, these will soon be widely known names.
Regardless of my notes above, I think you'll have a blast with Hundreds of Beavers -- and feel free to partake in the official drinking game posted by the filmmakers.