Okay, grab a jelly donut and crack open a cold one, because we're diving deep into the frosty, foam-filled absurdity that is Strange Brew (1983). If your well-worn VHS copy of this didn't spend half the 80s lodged in your VCR, usually next to a stack of Rush albums, were you even really there, eh? This film wasn't just another comedy hitting the rental shelves; it felt like a glorious, slightly goofy transmission directly from the Great White North, starring Canada's most beloved hosers, Bob and Doug McKenzie.
### From CanCon Requirement to Cult Classic
It’s almost legendary now how Bob and Doug, played with impeccable low-key genius by Dave Thomas and Rick Moranis, even came to be. Born on the legendary sketch show SCTV, the segments were literally created to pad out the broadcast time with mandated "Canadian Content." Ironically, these beer-swilling, toque-wearing brothers became the show's biggest international breakout stars, leading inevitably to this, their feature film debut – and, interestingly, their only directorial effort together. You can feel that sketch comedy energy pulsating through Strange Brew, a delightful looseness that suggests Thomas and Moranis knew exactly what kind of madness they were unleashing, probably with a fair bit of improvisation thrown in for good measure.
### A Tale Told by Two Idiots
The plot, if you can call it that, is a gloriously bizarre Canucks-take on Shakespeare's Hamlet. No, really. Our unlikely heroes, Bob and Doug, stumble into jobs at the Elsinore Brewery (get it?) after a typically harebrained scheme involving a mouse in a beer bottle goes sideways. They're hoping for free beer, naturally, but instead find themselves embroiled in the sinister machinations of the creepy Brewmeister Smith and the suspicious death of the brewery's former owner. Pam Elsinore (Lynne Griffin), the rightful heir, suspects foul play involving her uncle Claude (Paul Dooley). It's Shakespeare via Molson Canadian, and it’s utterly wonderful in its commitment to the bit.
What makes it work isn't high-brow parody, but the sheer, unrelenting dopiness of the McKenzie brothers navigating a world far more complex (and evil) than their simple desires for back bacon and a two-four of beer. Their dialogue, peppered with "eh," "hoser," and "beauty," felt instantly iconic, capturing a certain slice of Canadian stereotype with affectionate absurdity. I distinctly remember renting this from the local video store, the cover art alone promising something uniquely weird, and spending the next week annoying everyone by saying "Take off, eh!"
### Sir Max von Sydow vs. The Hosers
The absolute masterstroke of Strange Brew, the element that elevates it from merely silly to sublimely surreal, is the casting of the legendary Max von Sydow as the villainous Brewmeister Smith. Here is an actor revered for his intense dramatic work with Ingmar Bergman and his terrifying turn in The Exorcist (1973), playing utterly straight-faced opposite two guys in parkas obsessed with finding the brewery's free beer stash. Von Sydow brings an incredible gravitas that makes the surrounding idiocy even funnier. He's plotting world domination via mind-controlling beer laced with drugs, delivered with the same chilling intensity he brought to playing chess with Death. The contrast is comedic gold. You can almost picture him on set, a consummate professional surrounded by amiable Canadian chaos, possibly wondering what strange brew he’d gotten himself into.
### Low-Budget Charm and Practical Magic
Let's be honest, Strange Brew wasn't exactly a James Cameron production. Filmed largely around Toronto, including locations like the historic Fort York Brewery giving it that authentic industrial feel, the film radiates a certain endearing low-budget charm. The effects are delightfully analogue – the ghostly apparitions, the brewery's clanking machinery, even the climactic flooding sequence feels gloriously practical. Remember that bizarre electric hockey game scene? It perfectly encapsulates the film's home-made feel – slightly clunky, utterly baffling, yet somehow completely fitting. It’s a world away from today's slick CGI, possessing a tangible, almost garage-band quality that's part of its enduring appeal. Even the brief animated sequence explaining Brewmeister Smith's evil plan feels like something cooked up in a basement, in the best possible way.
Initially met with mixed reviews – critics perhaps didn't quite know what to make of this uniquely Canadian concoction – Strange Brew quickly found its audience on home video, becoming a certified cult classic. Its blend of sketch-comedy timing, specific cultural humour (that resonated surprisingly broadly), and that genius stroke of casting Von Sydow created something truly unique. It captured lightning (or maybe just a mouse) in a bottle.
Rating: 8/10
Justification: While undeniably dated in spots and built on a foundation of pure silliness, Strange Brew is a triumph of comedic vision from Thomas and Moranis. Max von Sydow's presence elevates the material immensely, and the film’s sheer weirdness and quotable dialogue cemented its cult status. It's a perfect time capsule of early 80s comedy with a distinctly Canadian flavour, earning its points for originality, enduring humour, and giving us cinema's greatest hosers.
Final Take: Like finding a forgotten stubby in the back of the fridge, Strange Brew remains a surprisingly refreshing and potent blast from the past. Take off to the video store (in your mind, hoser!), it's still a beauty, eh?