The Beaver
The Beaver DVD (Jodie Foster, Icon, 2011)
You can just imagine the studio execs that this was pitched too. We’ll have Jodie Foster directing. She normally does a good line in quiet, underplayed character driven indie type fare. Oscar winner. String of great performances behind her. So far so good. We’ll get Mel Gibson in as the lead. Ah. You see, since recent ahem, “events” he’s considered a bit erm “difficult” these days … but go on … Mel will play a clinically depressed fella who’s life and family are falling apart because of his mental illness and erratic behaviour. Oh I see. A sort of art imitating life thing? Good, good, go on … and then Mel starts communicating with everyone through an old beaver puppet he finds in a bin that seems to take on a life of its own and miraculously he gets better and becomes rich and famous and it’s all thanks to The Beaver … Right … Well cover me in eggs and flour and bake me for forty minutes, they only went and made it! The Beaver is a very strange, if a little unbalanced at times, mix of comedy, tragedy and indie quirkiness. Gibson runs a toy company that, like his mental health, is going under. His family life isn’t much better. Jodie Foster as the loyal missus is at the end of her tether and his teen son spends all his days writing things his Dad does on post it notes and putting his head through the bedroom wall as he desperately tries to avoid becoming a victim of nature’s cruellest joke and turning in to his Pa. Obsessively trying to avoid this fate is ironically sending him careering towards it. Things aren’t all bad for Junior though. He has a sideline in saving his ass from a regular whooping by getting the A grades for the knuckleheads who pay him to write their homework essays. This leads him to an interesting sub plot where the obligatory High School crush on the out of his league foxy chick brings her almost in to his league and guess what? Yup, the perfect girl who has everything also has a “history” shall we say. Everyone’s damaged and the downbeat direction subtly and achingly invites us in to the gloom … and then The Beaver turns up. Gibbo suddenly perks up and hands everyone at home and at work a card detailing the “prescription puppet” who will be communicating with you in a sort of Ray Winstone geezer accent and walking around with Mel’s hand up his arse. While teenage tantrum son and wife don’t exactly warm to the puppet, his youngest son offers a glimmer of hope as he unconditionally loves his Dad (Beaver or no Beaver) and when they do making stuff in the garage with tools and shit … Bingo! An idea that could save the toy company and everything looks up … well, sort of. The puppet goes everywhere: the shower, work, the anniversary meal date night, the ahem, bedroom … Handing all personal responsibility over to his furry friend works wonders for Mel, but as good as it seems to do it pushes away those closest to him. It is a peculiar film and although it’s well made and a heart rending portrait of mental illness from a multitude of perspectives, the fact remains that Mel Gibson is talking to people through a Beaver puppet. It’s hard to describe really but the quirky oddness of it all makes it harder to emotionally invest in Gibson’s character and as “brave” as his performance is, it comes across as a very bizarre “car crash” premise rather than an achingly drawn character study. Your heart will break for Jodie and the kids though. When she entices him out for a celebratory meal for their anniversary at a swanky restaurant you’ll feel devastated for her when he dresses the puppet in a tux and is unable to talk to his wife as himself. The troubles his eldest gets in to with his newly obtainable unobtainable lady friend are just as heavy going but it all comes back to the fact that Mel Gibson is walking about with a bloody glove puppet on! The tone of the film never really lets you off the hook or settles down. We’re kept on our toes with a bleak look at mental illness, a study of a disintegrating marriage and family, a quirky feel good comedy and, well without giving too much away a bit of horror/tragedy chucked in to the mix. Like the little ‘un though, by the end you’ll be sort of weirdly happy. Ish. Marv Gadgie
