Jodie Foster directs and co-stars with Mel Gibson in the fictional story of Walter Black, the head of an ailing toy company who suffers from depression. That is, until he finds a beaver hand puppet in the dumpster outside his local liquor store and channels a gruff alter ego through the toy…
A tragi-comedy is a delicate balancing act — and THE BEAVER falls off the beam. It almost feels as if Foster attempted to mimic AMERICAN BEAUTY: pensive piano strokes, forlorn teens, a turning point in a garage, an unexpected burst of violence, a melancholy shot of a roller coaster ride. And despite a heavy-hitting cast and producer Steve Golin's wonderful record of offbeat gems BEING JOHN MALKOVITCH and ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND, BEAVER proves a chore to watch.
Walter could have proven a more relatable everyman had he not been a CEO, let alone one who inherits his company: a decidedly unsympathetic role in our 21st century Gilded Age. And unfortunately Mel Gibson's assault on a former girlfriend and raging prejudice against — well, everybody — undermines his straight man attempts at humor before Walter finally dons the puppet. But Gibson's biggest problem is the script itself: if the actor's seeking to revive his career with a quirky role in a small art house film, this ain't it.
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