[The following review contains SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]
Hundreds of Beavers isn’t just the best comedy released to the general public in 2024; it is also quite possibly the greatest live-action cartoon ever made.
Embracing the delicate art of slapstick with an unapologetic sincerity rarely glimpsed since the silent era, the film miraculously manages to sustain the gleefully anarchic tone of your typical Wile E. Coyote short for the entire duration of its feature length running time. It accomplishes this impressive feat by adopting a hybrid narrative structure. Although the plot primarily revolves around a relentless barrage of sight gags (most of which are variations on the theme of a bumbling fur trader and his ostensibly “adorable” prey repeatedly inflicting sadistic physical violence upon one another), it is not, in fact, strictly episodic; on the contrary, every detail, no matter how seemingly insignificant at first glance, is absolutely integral to the overarching story. The pair of woodland critters that resemble Sherlock Holmes and Watson, for example, aren’t merely an amusing one-off joke; they eventually play a substantial role during the third act. The absurdly chaotic climax, meanwhile, serves as a sort of final exam, testing the myriad skills that the protagonist has acquired throughout the preceding scenes. Even a humble trapping pit established way back in the tale's inciting incident (after which it was probably swiftly forgotten by the average viewer) pays off spectacularly later on—i.e., nearly an hour after its initial introduction!
Boasting imaginative mixed-media visuals (incorporating puppetry, CGI, and intentionally crude hand-drawn animation), delightfully frenetic fight choreography, an outstanding lead performance by Ryland Brickson Cole Tews (which combines the exaggerated mannerisms of Jim Carrey, the paradoxical mischievous pathos of Chaplin’s Little Tramp, and the “rubber hose” style of character design popularized by Max Fleischer), and genuinely gorgeous black-and-white cinematography, Hundreds of Beavers is a feast for the eyes as well as the funny bone. Immaculately crafted and unabashedly immature in equal measure (toilet humor abounds), it is a wholly unique experience. “Masterpiece” is too inadequate a descriptor; this cannot be properly classified or categorized as anything less than an essential, genre-redefining work.
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