anthropomorphic beavers & rocks, or what kept me going in march

Whether it's an animatronic, semiaquatic rodent or a talking rock whose math skills can save earth, non-human creatures on the big screen inspired empathy and creativity, and generally kept me going.

I imagine it’s evident that this triptych was not made using Generative AI, and that I have no graphic design or movie poster making skills.

March was the most prolific month at the movies I’ve ever had. Including The AI Doc, which I saw with my husband last night, I viewed eight films on the silver screen over the last 31 days. Here’s the list, ranked from favorite to least:

• Hoppers (5/5 ⭐)

• Project Hail Mary (4.5/5 ⭐)

• Sirat (4/5⭐)

• Tow (4/5⭐)

• The AI Doc (3.5/5 ⭐)

• Forbidden Fruits (3/5⭐)

• undertone (3/5⭐)

• The Bride! (2.5/5 ⭐)

Project Hail Mary is the talk of the cinematic town at the moment, as it rightfully should be, having already grossed $300 million at the box office globally. Hoppers, released earlier in the month, also received the praise it deserved and has enjoyed continued box office success, but it has not catapulted into the same cultural stratosphere as Andy Weir’s celebrated story starring the beloved Ryan Gosling, who is the human embodiment of fine wine.

The stakes are high in Hail Mary—the sun is dying, and the human race could go extinct in just a matter of 30 years (a blip in the timeline of planetary history)—but they are also high in Hoppers. Set in a fictionalized Beaverton, based on the Portland, Oregon suburb of the same name, Pixar’s latest and greatest confronts how development and urban sprawl detracts from humans’ connection to the natural, animal world, and that the wheels of capitalism could give a fuck about species and habitats as critical as beavers and their dams.

At the center of Hoppers is Mabel, a 19-year-old college student and longtime Beaverton resident who has gradually watched her paradise get paved over for parking lots. Things come to a head when Mabel’s consciousness is accidentally uploaded to an animatronic beaver and, while inhabiting the body of a robotic (but convincingly real looking) semiaquatic rodent, she befriends the local wildlife community to mobilize them and prevent the construction of a new belt line that would lead to environmental degradation and displacement. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so audibly reactionary in a movie theater before. I gasped, I cried, I laughed to the point of screaming. I will stand by this movie as being my favorite of the year to date, and it’s going to take a lot for another film to supersede its rank.

In Hoppers’s George, a fellow beaver and king of the mammalian kingdom in Beaverton (excluding humans), I saw so many qualities that the elder of my two dogs, Latke, possesses: inclusivity, warmth, and a bend towards assuming the best in everyone. I always say that Latke has never met a stranger in his life because of how excitedly he greets every human he encounters, and George extends that same enthusiasm towards Mabel when she first steps onto the scene in her beaver body.

It came as no surprise that I’d draw comparisons to my own dogs in an animated movie with a mostly animal cast, but this did take me by surprise in Hail Mary. I knew virtually nothing about the plot of the film going into it, other than that it’s a science fiction story, a broad category, and that it looked visually stunning (true). If I had watched the trailer (I probably did at least once), maybe I would have gathered that there’s a talking rock (well, he’s an alien, but he looks like a rock) involved, but I don’t know if I would have understood how central said rock, Rocky, and more importantly, his friendship with Grace (Gosling’s character) is to the entire Hail Mary story. Rocky didn’t remind me of the younger of my two pups, Spud, because he’s a math savant, the likes of which this galaxy (maybe all the galaxies) has never seen. Rather, his high-anxiety charm (Spud is two-thirds Great Pyrenees) and unwavering adoration for his human scientist counterpart made Rocky inextricably linked from Spuddy in my mind.

As I sit here wrapping up the final touches on this very specific end-of-month recap, I’m sandwiched between Latke and Spud on the couch. Latke’s head is a few inches from me, curled into a semi-fetal position on his left side (he’ll eventually shift to lay on top of a blanket). Spud is to my right; his chin is set an on armrest (I always have to comment on how cute this is, even if he rests like this daily), his tail is pushed up against my leg, and his paws are splayed, long limbs falling off of the couch. As I’ve navigated one of the most challenging times in my personal life, confronting my anxiety and body images issues head-on to the extent that it’ll be my full-time job through the month of April, I have found unspeakable comfort in my relationships with the four-legged, gentle giants who live under my roof. They’ve inspired me creatively, as I’ve begun to write a children’s book manuscript based on their brotherhood (whether or not it’ll ever see the light of day is another story, but it’s felt like a worthy exercise up to this point), and—I’d like to think—they make me more patient and caring each day.

I suppose if you love a living being enough, whether human or dog, you’ll see that creature in everything. Maybe it’s not such a far stretch that King George of the Beaverton beavers strikes me as Latke’s twin flame, or that an alien who looks like a piece of mineral flying through space is Spud’s cosmic counterpart. I also love both George and Rocky for who they are, their fictional beings and the invented worlds they inhabit, without the direct comparisons to my dogs, but it made my month at the movies—and the month of March—all the more meaningful and memorable.

If you’re looking for stories that will reaffirm your faith in humanity, or more specifically, the life-altering bonds that humans can have with non-human beings (and how it’s one of the most redeeming aspects of being alive), look no further than these two tales. I think they’ll keep you going in April and beyond.