Hundreds of Beavers poster

Hundreds of Beavers

2024 · Mike Cheslik

When you need a good laugh, full stop — ideally with friends and drinks, the closer to a packed-room experience the better. Total comfort, zero prerequisites; it just wants to delight you.

What it's about

In a snowbound 19th-century wilderness, a drunken applejack salesman loses everything and sets out to become North America's greatest fur trapper. His opponents: hundreds of beavers — played, without apology, by people in mascot costumes — who prove far more organized than he is. What follows is an escalating war of traps, contraptions, and cartoon physics, told almost entirely without dialogue.

The experience

Pure escalating silliness — silent-comedy slapstick crossed with video-game logic, where gags planted in the first act detonate an hour later. You start chuckling, and by the finale you're laughing at things you can't believe a movie is doing.

Performances

Ryland Brickson Cole Tews throws his whole body into the lead — a nearly wordless, rubber-limbed physical-comedy performance in the old silent-clown tradition, played dead straight against an army of mascot costumes.

The craft

Made for roughly the cost of a mid-range car, it's built from thousands of homemade composite shots director Mike Cheslik assembled himself over years of editing. The black-and-white isn't just budget — black figures on blank snow become pure cartoon geometry, with escalating contraptions and long-fuse gags in the Keaton and Chuck Jones grammar. Best experienced loud, with a crowd.

Why it matters

Denied conventional distribution, the filmmakers toured it themselves into a word-of-mouth cult phenomenon — a rallying case for what DIY independent comedy can still pull off.

Made for roughly the cost of a mid-range car, Mike Cheslik's snowbound farce resurrects silent slapstick and splices it to video-game logic: a ruined applejack salesman (co-writer Ryland Brickson Cole Tews) must level up from starving fool to master fur trapper, his quarry an army of beavers played, without apology, by people in mascot costumes. There is almost no dialogue; the grammar is Keaton and Chuck Jones — escalating contraptions, cartoon physics, gags planted an hour before they pay off — executed through thousands of homemade composite shots Cheslik assembled himself over years of editing. Shot in the brutal white of Wisconsin and Michigan winters, its monochrome reads as both budget necessity and sight-gag canvas: black figures on blank snow, pure Looney Tunes geometry. Denied conventional distribution, the filmmakers toured it themselves like a carnival attraction, and word of mouth did the rest — a genuine folk hit, proof that invention still outruns money.

Reception

It premiered quietly at festivals in 2022, then its scrappy self-distributed roadshow tour in early 2024 turned it into the word-of-mouth indie story of the year — from unknown Wisconsin oddity to instant cult legend in months.

How Hundreds of Beavers was received, from release to now →

Influences: the films it descends from and the films it influenced

  • Sherlock Jr. (1924) — Deadpan hero survives escalating mechanical peril through precisely-choreographed physical gags, and uses in-camera match-cut trickery to make impossible spatial edits read as continuous — the exact grammar Cheslik borrows for his fur-trapper's ordeals.
  • The General (1926) — Builds a feature-length chase out of a chain of object-and-machinery gags where every prop planted early detonates later, the long-setup/long-payoff engineering that structures Beavers.
  • The Gold Rush (1925) — Silent survival slapstick set in white snow wilderness, staging a lone dark-clad figure against blank landscape for maximum silhouette legibility of the gag.
  • Wile E. Coyote / Road Runner shorts (1949) — The elaborate-contraption-that-backfires structure and hunter-forever-outwitted-by-prey loop, plus cartoon physics (survivable falls, instant traps) transplanted wholesale into live action.
  • Duck Amuck (1953) — A character subject to the arbitrary rules of its own medium — the self-aware, game-like logic where the world's mechanics are the joke, echoed in Beavers' video-game-logic escalation.
  • Playtime (1967) — Near-wordless comedy where gags emerge from bodies moving through a rigorously designed environment, with sound-design foley replacing dialogue as the comic track.
  • Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988) — Seamlessly composites cartoon-logic characters into live-action space so a human performer can trade physical blows with a drawn creature — the compositing-plus-slapstick fusion Beavers does on a microbudget.
  • Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004) — Feature shot entirely with actors on green screen and dropped into a fully composited monochrome world, proving a whole film can be built in the edit — the composite-shot pipeline Beavers adopts.
  • The Mask (1994) — Puts a live human body through explicit Tex Avery / Looney Tunes cartoon physics (eyes popping, limbs stretching) via effects, the same 'toon-made-flesh gag vocabulary.
  • Kung Fu Hustle (2004) — Subjects real bodies to Road Runner physics with direct, quoted Looney Tunes homage (the running-legs blur, the anvil logic), fusing wuxia staging with cartoon gags.
  • Shaun of the Dead (2004) — Ruthless setup/payoff editing where throwaway early lines and background props return as precisely-timed callbacks, the Chekhov's-gun cutting rhythm Beavers runs on.
  • Sin City (2005) — Places performers as stark black figures against high-contrast monochrome backdrops built entirely from green-screen compositing — the black-figures-on-white look Beavers mirrors in snow.
  • Sita Sings the Blues (2008) — A near-solo-authored microbudget feature assembled largely by one person at a computer, the DIY single-maker production model behind Cheslik's compositing marathon.
  • Be Kind Rewind (2008) — Celebrates deliberately handmade, low-fi in-camera 'sweding' effects as the aesthetic itself, embracing visible craft-poverty as charm the way Beavers foregrounds its mascot suits.
  • Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010) — Imports video-game logic — lives, points, level-boss progression, on-screen UI — into live-action editing, the narrative/video-game-logic scaffolding Beavers structures its trapping around.
  • Rubber (2010) — Executes an absurd, deadpan high-concept premise with committed internal genre logic on a shoestring, the microbudget straight-faced-nonsense tone Beavers shares.
  • The Forbidden Room (2015) — Reanimates silent-film grammar through DIY monochrome pastiche and layered in-camera-style compositing, the silent-comedy-revival-by-artifice method Cheslik pursues.
  • Skinamarink (2022) — A 2020s microbudget, near-silent formal-constraint experiment that became a DIY folk hit through festival-and-online word of mouth, the same distribution-and-constraint lineage as Beavers.

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Watch it with: curated runs of related films

  • Comedies That Torch the Genre — A run of comedies that each grab a familiar genre — the teen sex romp, silent slapstick, the blaxploitation conspiracy thriller, queer sci-fi satire — and cheerfully detonate it from the inside.