Consider this a new take on cold pizza in the morning. We open on a bedroom door creaking open followed by a shot of an alarm clock on which appears the time readout of 6:15 a.m.
At first it appears as if we’re about to witness a robbery or some other criminal act about to be perpetrated by the as yet unseen intruder who peels the sheet off a person laying in bed. It turns out the party who’s been awakened is a slice of pizza (actually a man in a pizza slice costume) and the intruder is a giant bottle of hot sauce. Also rudely awakened is a female slice of pizza–and both slices are screaming in abject fear.
“Nap time is over. Just don’t lay there like a bunch of leftovers,” yells the male hot sauce bottle who forces the two pizza slices out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. “You call yourselves deep dish. You’re a disgrace.”
Once in the kitchen, the slices muster up a feeble protest only to be overpowered by the hot sauce character who’s wielding a pizza slicer, eliciting further screams from the two slices.
Supered over this scene of stalker and the stalked is a message which reads, “Nothing wakes up food like Texas Pete.”
An end tag contains a product shot of a real bottle of Texas Pete Hot Sauce, accompanied by a website address (texaspete.com).
“Wake Up” was directed by David Jellison of TWC, Santa Monica, for agency Van Winkle & Associates, Atlanta.
The agency team included art director Dave Damman, copywriter Bobby Pearce and producer Janet Mason.
Mark Thomas, Jeff Snyder and Steve Ross exec produced for TWC with Johanna Woolcott serving as producer. The DP was Kris Kachikis.
Editor was Charley Schwartz of Schnitt, Minneapolis.
Does “Hundreds of Beavers” Reflect A New Path Forward In Cinema?
Hard as it may be to believe, changing the future of cinema was not on Mike Cheslik's mind when he was making "Hundreds of Beavers." Cheslik was in the Northwoods of Wisconsin with a crew of four, sometimes six, standing in snow and making his friend, Ryland Tews, fall down funny.
"When we were shooting, I kept thinking: It would be so stupid if this got mythologized," says Cheslik.
And yet, "Hundreds of Beavers" has accrued the stuff of, if not quite myth, then certainly lo-fi legend. Cheslik's film, made for just $150,000 and self-distributed in theaters, has managed to gnaw its way into a movie culture largely dominated by big-budget sequels.
"Hundreds of Beavers" is a wordless black-and-white bonanza of slapstick antics about a stranded 19th century applejack salesman (Tews) at war with a bevy of beavers, all of whom are played by actors in mascot costumes.
No one would call "Hundreds of Beavers" expensive looking, but it's far more inventive than much of what Hollywood produces. With some 1,500 effects shots Cheslik slaved over on his home computer, he crafted something like the human version of Donald Duck's snowball fight, and a low-budget heir to the waning tradition of Buster Keaton and "Naked Gun."
At a time when independent filmmaking is more challenged than ever, "Hundreds of Beavers" has, maybe, suggested a new path forward, albeit a particularly beaver-festooned path.
After no major distributor stepped forward, the filmmakers opted to launch the movie themselves, beginning with carnivalesque roadshow screenings. Since opening in January, "Hundreds of Beavers" has played in at least one theater every week of the year, though never more than 33 at once. (Blockbusters typically play in around 4,000 locations.)... Read More