It’s become a cliche for film critics to say, “you’ve never seen a movie like this,” and that’s only partially true with the DIY indie comedy sensation, Hundreds of Beavers. You may have seen this before though decades ago in classic Looney Tunes cartoons, a clear inspiration for the inventive visual slapstick and antic comedy imagination on full display. The commitment of the cast and crew to make a modern-day Looney Tunes is so rare and the results so amazingly executed that when I questioned whether we needed a full movie of this rather than a short film, I cast aside the question and chose to simply enjoy the fullness of the movie. Why scrimp on imagination and ingenuity and divine wackiness for only fifteen minutes when we can have one hundred? If you’re a fan of inspired slapstick comedy, and especially the Golden Era of classic cartoons (1944-1964), then Hundreds of Beavers will be a celebratory experience that could boast hundreds of laughs.

Set amid the early 1800s in the Wisconsin winter, Jean Kayak (Ryland Brickson Cole Tews) is a frontiersman trying to make a name for himself. He wants to be the best fur trapper in the land, and if he nets enough furs, he’ll be granted the chance to marry the pretty daughter (Olivia Graves) of the local Merchant (Doug Mancheski). And with that, the rest of the movie is watching Jean try to outsmart the wildlife (portrayed as people in giant mascot costumes) and collect enough pelts.

By the nature of its premise and intention, this is not going to be a movie for everyone, or even many, but if it’s for you, it will feel like comedy manna from heaven. The grand appeal of Hundreds of Beavers is the sheer surprise of it all, with the jokes coming fast. The pacing of this movie is at spoof-movie levels, with jokes hitting in weaves and often, complete setups and punchlines taken care of in under ten seconds. The joke-per-second ratio of this movie is off the charts, especially when the movie also begins building its own internal logic and foundation for running gags. That creates an even deeper and richer tableau for comedy, with jokes piling on top of one another and building escalations and extensions. I’m genuinely amazed at the creativity on display in every minute of this movie. The fantastical imagination of this movie could power an entire Hollywood studio slate of movies. I was in sheer awe of how many different joke scenarios it could devise with this scant premise, and I was happily surprised, no, elated, when the filmmakers kept this level of silliness and invention going until the very end of the movie. I was chuckling and guffawing throughout, and I strongly feel like this is the kind of movie that, if you watch it with a group of like-minded friends, can produce peals of infectious laughter.

I really want to celebrate just how whimsically silly this movie can be, with humor that ranges from clever to stupid to stupidly clever. Much of the humor resides around the death and mutilation of animals, which isn’t surprising considering our hero’s goal is to gain hundreds of pelts. It never stops being funny seeing people dressed in giant animal mascot costumes to represent the wildlife, and when they’re killed through the assortment of different means and accidents, the movie adopts classic cartoon visual communication and logic by giving them large X’s covering their eyes. Even when the creatures are losing heads and limbs and getting impaled or giant holes blown through them, the lightness of approach keeps the violence from feeling upsetting or realistic. It’s all just so silly, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not sneaky-smart from a comedy standpoint. There’s one scene where Jean is riding a log down a flume inside a giant wood-harvesting plant the beavers have constructed. A rival log with angry beavers chases him in parallel, and it looks like they’re just about to jump onto his log and grab him. However, they jump but seemingly stay in place, and that’s where the movie cuts to a different shot from a wide angle, to reveal that there are four or five of these flumes running parallel and not merely two. The joke itself is only a few careful seconds, like most of the jokes in Hundreds of Beavers, but it demonstrates the level of thought and ingenuity in the comedy construction, and that’s even before spaceships and beaver kaiju.

The acting is fully committed to the exaggerated and cartoonish tone of the proceedings. These actors are selling the jokes tremendously well, and since the movie is practically wordless, most of it comes from physicality and expression. It hearkens back to the early silent era of moviemaking by the likes of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplain making millions laugh. Even the smallest roles are filled with committed actors helping to make the jokes even funnier. The people in those mascot costumes can be riotous simply in how they slump their body, cock their head, choose their pauses and gesticulations. Watching the movie is a reminder at how universal comedy can be when you have the right people who understand the fundamentals of finding the funny. Tews, also serving as co-writer with director Mike Cheslike (L.I.P.S., The Get Down), is our human face for much of the mayhem, and he can play bedeviled and befuddled with flair. His facial expressions and exaggerations are a consistent key to framing and anchoring the tone of every moment.

While the budget is a relatively modest $150,000, it doesn’t mean the movie looks pedestrian. Choosing to film in black and white helps mask some possible limitations, and the creative choice to go with people in giant mascot costumes helps too, but much of the movie is elevated by its clever green screen effects work. Whether it’s augmenting the snowy outdoor wilderness with exaggerated elements, like traps and contraptions and holes in ice, or segments filmed entirely on green screen and utilizing heavy composites to magnify the number of animals on screen, it all better fulfills the vision and tone. The finale inside the beaver complex is a wild sequence reminiscent of Marvin the Martian landscapes and interior design. The look of the movie, while rough around the edges at points, leans into its lo-fi aesthetics to make it part of its charm, much like the goofy mascot costumes. The continued goofiness doesn’t cancel out the visual audaciousness, even when that audacity is in the guise of creating something so stupid for words.

I would advise anyone to give Hundreds of Beavers a try, even if for only ten minutes. If you don’t connect with the film’s comedic wavelength or appreciate the ingenuity of the players, then so be it. But I think more than enough will be charmed and impressed by its energy and creativity. I said before that there was once or twice, during the first half, that I questioned whether we needed a feature-length version of this kind of movie. Then it occurred to me how rare such a movie like this is, how singular its vision can be, and how instead of questioning its duration, I then chose to celebrate its cheerful existence, and every new joke was a new opportunity to produce smiles and laughter, and I anxiously waited for the next and the next, my smile only broadening. Hundreds of Beavers is one of the craziest movies you will see but it’s also, at its core, a celebration of comedy and collaboration and the special appeal of moviemaking and those with a passion for being silly. In these trying times of uncertainty, I’ll take a feature-length dose of that, please and thank you.

Nate’s Grade: A