Walter (Mel Gibson), a severely depressed toy executive, is a social recluse on the brink of collapse. That's until he discovers a furry hand puppet and begins communicating to the world through it. His wife (Jodie Foster, who also directs) and eldest son (Anton Yelchin) reluctantly play along since his condition seems to be improving. But things take a turn for the worse, and he must either reclaim Walter's persona or live forever as the Beaver.
Much like the puppet, the film grows on you. At first, the cockney accent, a sort of corrupted Michael Caine, really gets on your nerves. But you learn to accept it, and Beaver, for what they are - part of a more refined version of Walter.
There's an inherent double-edge to the film's premise. We share the same reaction as characters that come in contact with the pair - we don't know if we should laugh or feel unsettled. But we can't quite get over the absurdity of it all: a film about an executive who interacts with the world through a puppet.
If you can get past the urge to call yourself insane for watching it, the dark, serious side of the film is worth your patience.