Snails are not often thought of as essential animals, but they possess many unique qualities. When snails feel threatened, they retreat into their shells for protection. They have no backbone and keep the same shell for their entire life. They live unexpectedly long lives, making it to 25 years on average.
Most importantly though, by contracting the muscles in their foot in tandem with their momentum, snails can only move forward. They live their life on a singular path and, like all animals, lack the ability to reflect on their own existence.
No one understands this reality more than Grace Pudel (Sarah Snook) — the subject and narrator of Adam Elliot’s marvelous stop-motion animated tragicomedy Memoir of a Snail (2024). Grace appreciates snails not just for their aesthetic beauty, but for the comfort they provide, finding solace in their relatable plight with nature.
In Grace’s first few years, she experiences more hardship than most hope to avoid in their entire lifetime. Reflecting from her adult perspective, Grace’s story starts at birth with her twin Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee) as “two souls that share the same heart.” Like some mother snails, the pair’s mother dies in childbirth, and they are left to live with their paraplegic, alcoholic, yet loving father (Dominique Pinon).
Grace suffers from many afflictions, “like a china doll you could shatter with just a stare,” defined by a cleft lip. Growing up, Gilbert understands Grace’s insecurities and stands up for her against bullies.
Despite life’s unpredictability, Grace finds comfort where she’s able. Much of Memoir of a Snail is spent in the in-betweens of life, searching for solace in the little rituals that bring us temporary satisfaction. For Grace, it’s right angles, helping others, an endless stream of classic literature, spending time with her family, and caring for her snail Sylvia.
When a series of tragedies strike their family, Grace and Gilbert are separated across Australia and remain in contact with one another by snail mail (no pun intended). Their new families couldn’t be more different, but they remain devoted to finding each other someday when life allows.
Adam Elliot has always had a penchant for juxtaposing melancholy overtones against the wide-eyed nostalgic hopefulness of his characters. Elliot’s prior and underseen Mary & Max (2009) struck this difficult balance when telling the story of an unlikely friendship in the suburbs of Melbourne between a lonely eight-year-old girl and a forty-four-year-old man. Somehow, Elliot has surpassed himself.
In the 15 years since Mary & Max, Elliot continues to hone his stunning stop-motion craft, deftly showcasing the intricacies in every nook and cranny of the frame. The opening credits alone are enough to convince even the biggest of sourpusses, navigating around the frame of Grace’s years of hoarded treasures, to show the depth and dimensions of the animated process.
Where Memoir of a Snail shines the most is in its relationships, both familial and otherwise. As expected, Grace and Gilbert’s solemn bond is established perfectly in the film’s first third and is strong enough to withstand life’s horrible circumstances.
The same can be said for Grace’s relationship with Pinky, a kind-hearted senior citizen voiced by Jacki Weaver, and how the pair find comfort in each other’s company. The finer details of Pinky’s life are a delight to learn about, whether it’s her secret to long-term vitality or the backstory of how she lost her pinky finger.
It’s Grace and Pinky’s tight-knit bond that gives Grace the courage to forge ahead, find love, and develop unhealthy habits to shoo away her past trauma. Meanwhile Pinky serves as a reminder of how snails pull together when threatened and that survival in numbers is essential.
Memoir of a Snail is filled with quirky asides that serve as the only color in Grace’s life. They’re all in the same spirit as Elliot’s other works, yet thematically pointed to serve the film’s greater messaging of shedding your shell, purging your hoard, and starting anew.
The film’s pathos, eliciting emotion from life’s meaningful spots as a means of remaining hopeful for the future, is what makes Memoir of a Snail a remarkable filmgoing experience and one of the year’s best.
Whether you’re looking to find humor in the cracks of life that provide purpose, fully immerse yourself in the stop-motion majesty on display, or be moved by the emotional power that comes with strength in numbers, Memoir of a Snail is another spectacular reminder that life is worth living forwards.
Review Courtesy of Landon Defever
This review was submitted from the 60th Chicago International Film Festival. It opens on October 25th.
Feature Image Credit to Arenamedia via The Hollywood Reporter