It’s easy to picture the disgraced-in-real-life Mel Gibson as Walter Black, a wacky-as-a-dodo toy executive who devises an obsessive practice of speaking through a hand puppet beaver in order to keep his demons at bay. What’s harder to stomach is this fitful, often unctuous execution of a not half bad idea.
Imagine Walter, talking exclusively through the hand puppet, a non-sequitur British accent in tow, even as he makes love with wife (and the film’s director) Jodie Foster. Then to his distracted CEO, whose subsequent marketing of a beaver-look-alike toy that for some unstated reason becomes instantly and hugely successful. Hang on here, as a re-invented Mel is interviewed by Matt Lauer, John Stewart, even NPR, where Terry Gross chews him out royally. For God’s sake, this is RADIO, she entreats. No one can even SEE your damn puppet!
Prone to rage (who, Mel Gibson?) and unable to communicate once his beaver is removed, Black comes to a tragic crossroads. Since “everyone else” (his workers, the public) “gets it” but his wife and teenage son, who eventually refuse to accept him permanently with “The Beaver” on his arm, Mel loses It; Giving the film an unearned dark tone. Not to worry though: superficiality quickly returns ro deliver an outcome that depends on an an up-and-down subplot involving his son (a professional ghostwriter fo his fellow students) and foxy Jennifer Lawrence (Winter’s Bone Oscar nominee) that simmers, burns out, and reignites just in time to jumpstart Mel’s salvation. There’s also a six or seven year old son who loves Mel unconditionally just in case we haven’t made up our minds on him.
Gibson’s acting here is actually pretty good, as is Foster’s and potential star Lawrence. Here’s wondering if The Beaver will inspire anyone to emulate grabbing a prop and a new identity of which one need not be responsible. You can give yourself characteristics you always wished you had. Just like Mel Gibson.
4 rodents out of 10
