2/5
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The treasured English film critic Mark Kermode often says that people who pick and choose the movies they want to see are not proper film critics. I say this with no great pleasure— if I am not a film critic after seeing a movie like Zombeavers, it’s time to throw in the towel and set sail for more radiant horizons.
I’m almost at a loss as to how to begin. It’s a movie about a group of pulchritudinous young women getting stuck in the woods during an attack by zombie beavers. What more is there to say? I could end the review right here and the intended audience would have everything they needed to justify relishing every minute of this film. I won’t therefore bore you with discussion of story, as it’s almost entirely superfluous from the get-go. The problem for me is that it isn’t much of a film at all; it is a title in search of a film to justify it, although it isn’t as bad as it could have been.
During a Q&A, the movie was described by one of the lead actresses as a parody of the horror genre. Indeed, anyone who would criticize parody must simply not “get it”. After all, it’s “not supposed to be taken seriously”, as is so often chanted in response to critical doubt. I’m not so certain about that. The film undercuts itself by resting uneasily between two distinct goals: so bad it’s good and sincere horror parody. As patently ridiculous as every frame of the film is, it remains disappointingly safe in its conceits, never stretching itself adventurously enough to withstand a certain amount of scrutiny. In a movie like Zombeavers, a man’s genitals are chewed off. In a movie like Sharknado, a shark falls from the sky and barrels towards innocent bystanders only to be sliced in half by a chainsaw mid-flight. See the difference?
Far too many films get away with with frankly excruciating execution in the name of parody, and in an age when films like Cabin In the Woods and Shaun of the Dead exist, that simply isn’t good enough anymore. “Ah, but Spencer,” you might be thinking, “how could you possibly compare those films to Zombeavers? They’re far more expensive and made with substantial visual polish.” That is certainly true, but a low budget is no excuse for low intelligence. I don’t demand that all films stack up against Mystic River, but if your project has neither money nor smarts, at least inject as much raw enjoyment into the proceedings as possible. I have no doubt that the movie was a riot behind the scenes, and I congratulate the cast and crew for even succeeding in making a movie. If only it was as much fun to watch.
The film has plenty of characters. I hated all of them. I found every single last one of them to be artificial and utterly intolerable in their most minuscule actions. It isn’t that they’re hateful — I’d have preferred hateful, because at least then I could enjoy their grisly demise — and none of the performances are bad, but they barely exist beyond their stock duty of delivering slapdash one-liners with all the razor-sharp bite of dead caterpillar. The writing isn’t terrible; it’s simply that despite the profanity and merciless sex references, it is ultimately too tame to leave much of a mark.
That’s not to say the movie is entirely without virtue. The very last scene is surprisingly funny and inventive, and every so often, an actor will ad-lib a line that evokes a genuine chuckle, including several by an unrecognizable John Mayer. I know they’re ad-libbed because the actors confessed as much during the Q&A, which went a certain distance towards dampening my memory of the whole experience. For a few fleeting moments, I thought the script was smarter than it actually was.
There is a horror comedy out at the moment entitled What We Do In the Shadows. It is one of the funniest films I have ever seen, made with warmth and endless mythological innovation, and it deserves every bit of your time, money and admiration. Go and see it. A movie like Zombeavers, as much as I admire the intentions behind its making, is something I can’t recommend. It will have plenty of admirers, and I can see why. It is heartbreaking, therefore, to confess that I am not one of them. I very much wanted to be.
Two quick notes: the film’s opening sequence showcases a Scooby Doo-inspired animation that I thought was particularly charming. There is also a bear. It is a very impressive and respectable creature, and it deserves its due kudos.
Spencer Moleda is a freelance writer, script supervisor, and motion picture researcher residing in Los Angeles, California. His experience ranges from reviewing movies to providing creative guidance to fledgling film projects. You can reach him at: www.spencermoleda.com
Spencer Moleda is a freelance writer, script supervisor, and motion picture researcher residing in Los Angeles, California. His experience ranges from reviewing movies to providing creative guidance to fledgling film projects. You can reach him at: [email protected]