Hundreds of Beavers

A black and white, essentially silent film has never been this much fun, nor has it been crafted with such exuberant adolescent heart, yet Hundreds of Beavers channels all of its ambitious, lo-fi energy into one of the most exhilarating gut-busting films I've seen in quite some time. Scrabbled together with no money, six beaver costumes, and spare time with friends Mike Cheslik creates a Looney-Tunes-level physical comedy romp, enlisting endless sight gags and simple plot mechanics that only get bigger, better, and sillier. The one-note story of an applejack farmer becoming a master beaver hunter gets elevated by revenge, romance, and subtle intelligence, leading to a climax full of payoffs that have been carefully placed throughout its runtime, amplifying Hundreds of Beavers' ability and soul. While the film isn't necessarily an emotional one, I found myself moved, if not for the characters than for the filmmaking. With no studio backing or theatrical distribution, Hundreds of Beavers has nothing to leverage and nothing to sacrifice, it's inherently itself through and through to the very end. Doing so, it soars to such great giddy heights that it's unwaveringly momentous that so much imagination still exists and proves there's still so much more to make, a true testament to the power of visual storytelling.