By Abbie Holmes, Second Year, English
I can recall the first time I encountered Mike Cheslik’s Hundreds of Beavers quite distinctly. While mindlessly scrolling Letterboxd, I remember the poster sticking out at me like a sore thumb, the sheer difference of it compared to the others on the ‘2024 releases’ list. After reading the description, alongside the surprisingly high amount of reviews for what should be a true underground darling, I remember thinking some iteration of ‘what the hell, sure.'
To put it bluntly, Hundreds of Beavers should have tanked. Its simplistic style, lack of marketing, and miniscule budget did not exactly place it on a path to success, but against all odds, it’s gathered a lot of buzz over the last few months. Thanks to Bristol’s own Slapstick Festival, I finally got my chance to view it.
Right from its opening, Hundreds of Beavers totally defies the conventions we’ve come to expect for cinema in 2025. It begins with no credits, no logos, just a blurry quote from St Augustine laid over some medieval sounding fiddle tune. You’re immediately thrown into a confusing series of visuals. Between the comically obvious greenscreens, hand drawn animation, and cuts between animals chewing and a single, jerking actor, it feels like a slight fever dream, to say the least. The story, once you’ve come down to earth from the high of utter, joyous silliness you’ve just been on, then begins to reveal itself to you.
Between the endless series of magic tricks and physical comedy beautifully reminiscent of the Modernists, the plot follows a disgruntled cider worker (Jean Kayak) on a mission to avenge himself after a group of beavers destroy his barrels. Played out in the snowy mountains of North America however many years ago, we follow him as he turns from brewer to hunter, trapping beavers and rabbits–all played by actors in a slightly uncanny series of fluffy costumes–in an attempt to maintain his livelihood. After an hour or so of confusion where he is aided in his mission by another trapper (Wes Tank) and a Native American (Luis Rico), he encounters an irritable trader (Doug Mancheski). He proceeds to fall in love with the trader’s daughter (Olivia Graves), and upon asking for her hand in marriage, he is informed that the price for such is (drumroll please) hundreds of beavers.
I want to say that Hundreds of Beavers keeps you on your toes, but I’m not sure that that’s an accurate analysis. It's less that the narrative lacks predictability, it’s a classic narrative, with classic roots, but that its method is so far removed from what we’ve come to expect from modern cinema. The film is not out of place among the early silent comedies of Chaplin and Lloyd, dragging those conventions forward, employing a contemporary perspective that reconciles the century of separation we have from the genre, a separation that can easily cause their themes to become lost.
For me, Hundreds of Beavers is welcome, a refreshing new voice in the at times monolithic nature of modern cinema. As the production of film in the 21st century descends deeper into a nepotistic echo-chamber, this bold, experimental narrative feels like a breath of fresh air. This film is definitely not for everyone, many reviews say it's hysterical, hilarious, but its humour did fall slightly flat for me. Honestly though? I don’t particularly care that I didn’t perfectly cater to my taste. Mostly, I am glad that something so unapologetically different is getting its flowers.
Overall, Hundreds of Beavers is worth the watch, if just to experience some bewilderment. The conversation surrounding it excites me, and has planted the seeds for studios to take chances on new voices. Some of those voices may leave you a little baffled, but it's a bafflement we should accept with open arms.
Be sure to catch @slapstickfest when it comes around next year!
