Still recovering from an evening with Hundreds of Beavers
The most original movie I've seen in years is also the most outrageous comedy I've seen in years. It's an endurance test for your brain, body, and sense of humor. Brace yourselves. And dress warmly.
My story begins with a movie trailer.
I had stumbled onto the promo for Hundreds of Beavers on YouTube, and it made me laugh. Then it made laugh again. I leaned forward, intrigued. Somebody had gone to a lot of work to create startling images while also adhering to strict limitations. Who would do this? Who would go to the trouble to dress up actors in goofy animal costumes—costumes that might be mascots for a high-school football tournament featuring the Rabbits, the Raccoons, the Wolves, and, of course, the Beavers—and film a live-action Looney Toons cartoon in a snowbound forest?
I might have chuckled and turned the thing off, but the rapid-fire blasts of slapstick accelerated in ambition and ingenuity. And the range of scenarios flashing past suggested that this just might be as epic as Mad Max: Fury Road. Surely nobody could sustain this kind of high-speed madness into a feature-length film!
But then, those blasts were punctuated with brief blurbs from rave reviews — reviews from credible sources!
Once in a while, a sort of sixth sense triggers a sense of caution in me: Stop reading about this movie. This might be one of those rare occasions when you get to witness something unprecedented without any surprises spoiled beforehand. This might be one of those times where the less you know, the better the experience.
I made a mental note: I had to check this out. But when would I get a chance?
While I skipped detailed reviews, I started keeping watch over local film calendars. Where and when would this mystery movie surface? Months passed, and I found very few mentions of the film—like faint traces of frantic fiddle tunes popping up between stations on a static-fuzzy radio. I wrote to my friend Melissa Tamminga, director of the excellent Pickford Cinema Center in Bellingham, Washington, and one of my favorite film critics. Lo—she, too, was tracking it. And it didn’t take long for her to send me an alert: She was bringing it to the Pickford for a couple of days, and the screenings were selling out fast. Word was spreading. I seized two tickets.
So, in March, my friend Kirk and I took a road trip from Seattle north to the Pickford. We didn’t know what to expect in terms of an audience. Would we make a bunch of new friends, other adventurers who had been similarly intrigued? We didn’t have to wait long to get our answer. Soon, we were standing in line with a crowd so animated that you’d think they were getting an advanced screening of… well, since I mentioned Fury Road, let’s say Furiosa. Or, better yet… Furry-osa?
Tamminga mingled with the enthusiastic moviegoers before the show, wishing us well. She'd already seen the movie; she knew what we were about to witness/discover/suffer. Those paying attention may have noticed that little cut-out beaver faces were grinning at them from hiding places on every movie poster in the lounge. There was a sense in the lobby that something life-altering was about to take place.
And then it did. Here’s my review…
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