An urgent call for improved self-representation of minorities in cinema has echoed loudly over the past decade. If this movement yields more unconventional, boundary-pushing works like the delightfully odd and brain-frying animation Endless Cookie, then the demand is undoubtedly justified. This thoroughly affable film offers a unique window into the lives of a Canadian Cree Indigenous family through a lens that is both loopy and deeply affectionate.
A Shaggy Dog Story of Epic Proportions
Roughly describable as a surreal mash-up of Cheech and Chong with the narrative digressions of Tristram Shandy, Endless Cookie joyfully interrupts itself and frequently lampoons its own creative process. A central running joke highlights the fact it took half-brothers Seth and Peter Scriver a full nine years to complete the project. In one memorable scene, set in the post-apocalyptic ruins of Toronto, animator Seth Scriver casually announces he has secured another deadline extension, to which he simply responds, "Cool!"
Recording Stories from Shamattawa
The film's premise involves animator Seth (voicing himself) traveling to the Shamattawa First Nation community in Manitoba. His mission is to record the shaggy-dog stories of his half-brother, Peter (also voicing himself), whose mother is First Nations, unlike Seth's. Peter's tales are manifold, strange, and endlessly digressive, featuring the twelve dogs on their property—two of whom are actually named Cheech and Chong—as well as the seven children in residence.
These narratives span a bizarre range: from the practicalities of teepee construction and a botched murder stakeout involving a caribou, to Peter's angry-punk stint in 1980s Toronto and a friend's unsettling encounter with a clingy snowy owl. One particularly drawn-out saga details the profound embarrassment of mangling his own hand in an animal trap.
A Struggle with Narrative and Form
Seth struggles valiantly to contain this Scheherazade of Shamattawa. Gazing at a story map that bulges like a distended colon, he muses, "I'm not sure if it's following me, or I'm following it." The animation style itself is a character—imagine SpongeBob SquarePants after an afternoon smoking DMT. This allows for wonderfully absurd touches, such as one of the film's funders appearing as a talking slide rule. Yet, he gets off lightly compared to the extended family, who are nearly always depicted with different wibbly proboscises; the kind of affectionate caricature you can only achieve with deep fondness for your subjects.
Serious Points Amid the Hallucinations
Beneath the trippy surface and coffee-froth hallucinations of rutting caribou, Endless Cookie raises serious issues with wry obliqueness. It touches on police racism, land theft, and, more positively, the theme of ancestral continuity. Notably, perhaps to maintain a sharp Indigenous focus, the film somewhat skirts the complex issue of Seth's role as a white chronicler of these stories.
At its heart, the film is a palpably radiating love letter to community, equal parts hilarious and hallucinatory. It feels like a spiritual successor to cult animations like Fritz the Cat, born from a place of genuine affection and shared history. Endless Cookie is available for streaming on Mubi from 17 April.
