The Beaver (2011)

What did the film critic say when he was assigned to review The Beaver? “Dam!” (Rimshot!) If you don’t like that joke, here’s another: Scandal-plagued Mel Gibson attempts to reinvigorate his career with the aid of a furry hand puppet. No, I’m not making this up. But the real punchline is that, with this performance, Gibson may have successfully accomplish his goal.

Here’s a star with four Lethal Weapons, three Mad Maxes, two Academy Awards, and The Passion of the Christ on his résumé; unfortunately, Mel also has drunk and disorderly charges, verbal and domestic abuse accusations, and anti-Semitism on his record. That last item is particularly egregious considering the largely Jewish origins of the movie industry and their continued influence in Hollywood. (One studio head said he’d never use Gibson in a film again.)

Sometimes, off-screen scandals have a negligible effect on a star’s career (e.g., Russell Crowe, Christian Bale); but Gibson has also alienated his fan base over the past decade by largely forgoing acting and, instead, directing two well-crafted yet audience-polarizing foreign-language films. His popularity has noticeably decreased; the trailer for The Beaver elicited audience groans usually reserved for any trailer with the name M. Night Shyamalan in it. However, Mel has taken a major step in the right direction with this surprisingly emotional movie, focusing on truly inhabiting a plum role rather than showboating like a “movie star.” The direction is left to his formidable co-star, Jodie Foster.

Gibson plays Walter Black, a toy company CEO by inheritance, ill-qualified for the position, who’s brought down both the business and his family through a lengthy bout of depression. Feeling suicidal one night, he finds a discarded hand puppet, a furry brown beaver. He starts talking to himself, employing a Cockney accent for the beaver, and finds his new companion quite motivational. Walter begins to use the beaver as his primary voice and means of communication. His weary wife Meredith (Foster) tentatively accepts Walter’s insistence that everyone address the beaver puppet rather than Walter himself, and that such distancing is therapeutic. She witnesses him being more productive with his business and more involved with the family, especially their younger boy Henry (Riley Thomas Stewart), and believes–at least for a while–that Walter is on the road to recovery.

However, the beaver’s presence only distances Walter further from his troubled teenage son Porter (Anton Yelchin), who broods in resentment over how much of his crazy father he sees in himself. Porter sells his creativity by writing class papers for other students, and his latest client is the school’s cheerleader valedictorian, Norah (Jennifer Lawrence), too troubled by her own past to compose a graduation speech.

This brief description sounds like a forgettable, goofball comedy premise, even more ludicrous at first glance by the casting of Mel Gibson as the beaver’s puppeteer. And there are indeed a few laugh-provoking moments, particularly with the presence of the beaver in everything from showering to sex. But just as you start to think this movie will be a weakly comic depiction of manic depression, Gibson, Foster, and writer Kyle Killen skillfully maintain the seriousness of the situation. Walter is clearly clinically depressed, and this coping mechanism of his own devising, though temporarily amusing to some, is not as therapeutic as he’d like to believe. When Meredith insists that Walter abstain from using the puppet during their anniversary dinner, it sets up a quietly powerful scene that illustrates not only the depths of his mental illness, but also the expertise of two fine actors working so well together.

This movie is a comeback for Jodie Foster as much as for her co-star. Besides her three-year absence from acting, she hasn’t directed a film since Home for the Holidays in 1995. But her directorial debut, 1991’s Little Man Tate, was a smart and honest depiction of the particular issues in raising a child prodigy (which Foster herself was). So it’s not surprising to see her helm this film about depression–a very real and serious subject–with such believability, honesty, and compassion. Like her solid and assured performance on the screen, Foster directs the subject matter and her cast with sure-footed excellence.

Anton Yelchin, who played Chekov in the recent Star Trek movie, does well with a role that initially seems to be just another sullen teenager, but eventually becomes a crucial element of the movie’s soul, showing how depression can be cyclical and perpetuated within a family. (I can personally relate to that.) Yelchin is well-aided by his co-star Jennifer Lawrence, who conclusively proves that her Oscar-nominated performance in Winter’s Bone was no fluke–her looks, line delivery, and presence are so impressive, she magnetizes every moment she’s on screen.

Ultimately, it all comes down to Mr. Gibson, and he honestly delivers an exceptional performance. Initial worries that Mel will spend the whole movie clowning around in a silly voice with a goofy beaver puppet soon disappoint as the drama develops and the audience realizes that this is a serious role, not a comic one. Gibson, under Foster’s direction, crafts a believable portrayal of a man, a personality, mentally coming apart at the seams. I haven’t seen Mel pull out the acting stops like this since The Man Without a Face, and it was satisfying to see him tapping those depths once again.

The Beaver is sort of a meta-movie. It’s the story of a man with a mental disorder seeking redemption, trying to reconcile both his family and his own mind; it also mirrors the struggle of its own star, whose notorious transgressions have strained his own relations with the public that once idolized him. This film is Mel’s mea culpa to the audience, and though it’s not always easy to forgive and forget, I can accept this as an act of contrition.