Unless hailing from major animation studios such as Pixar or Dreamworks, rarely do emotionally devastating, deeply moving films from skilled animators receive the attention they so rightly deserve. Wendell & Wild, Perfect Blue, My Life as a Zucchini, and My Love Affair with Marriage are just a few that fall into this sprawling tapestry of overlooked animation. Eccentric and powerfully heartbreaking, stop-motion animated Memoir of a Snail definitely falls into this category—a true indie that somehow makes the life cycle of a mollusk into a tearjerking dark dramedy. Who could expect anything less from Oscar-winning filmmaker Adam Elliot? Set in 1970s Australia, Elliot follows our lead character, Grace, as she jumps from one tragic moment to the next. As Grace recalls in the film, “life only makes sense backwards, but we have to live it forwards.” Thankfully, Grace’s story is just as rich and deeply satisfying from start to finish, carrying a morbid absurdity that only compliments its distinct visual style.
The quirkiness of the opening credits (panning across random household objects including teapots, bathtubs, soap, cigarettes, duck fat, and snail poison) are merely a light-hearted way to transition into a grim opening. An animated movie that quite literally begins with a death should clue viewers in for the R-rated nature of what they are about to watch. In this case: Grace (Sarah Snook) sits at the deathbed of her dear friend, Pinky (Jacki Weaver), as she mutters out a final death rattle. It is certainly a bold and striking introduction, marking Pinky as an important character. Grace somberly sits with her ashes, tears in her eyes. Setting a snail free gives way to Grace looking back on her entire life from beginning to end. Grace’s narration—recounted to Sylvia, her favorite snail—always carries a strange poeticism and weirdly off-beat humor.
For those hoping for sunshine and rainbows, time to look elsewhere. Grace’s life is one of sadness, dealing with themes of isolation and grief, but also of resilience. Grace and her twin brother, Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee), are both born premature; in the first major tragedy of their life, their mother dies during childbirth. Medical struggles that follow this awful event already begin to stack the odds against Grace and her brother. Grace, born with a “floppy lip,” must have surgery to repair it, in addition to having severe asthma and being something of a runt. She becomes the target of bullies, but thankfully has Gilbert to stick up for her. The careful formation of this sibling dynamic was one of my favorite parts of Memoir of a Snail, particularly as it builds a fuller snapshot of their distinct personalities. Gilbert becomes smitten with fire, dreaming of becoming a Parisian street performer. Meanwhile, Grace immerses herself in a cutesy snail family she creates as constant companions, retreating even further into a shell of her own making. Oddball details to these recollections often add a layer of hilarious strangeness to the otherwise bleak storyline. Juxtaposing heartbreak against laugh-out-loud comedy, Elliot explores the specificity of life through his wildly creative lens.
Their time together in the beginning may be tumultuous, but once their father—a paraplegic former stop-motion animator with sleep apnea—passes away, things go from bad to worse. Brother and sister are taken by child services, forced into separate homes in separate states. From this point onward, Gilbert and Grace are distanced by thousands of miles, raised by two extremely different types of families. Each time a hopeful event is about to occur, it gets offset with one of horror. Thankfully, Elliot has overstuffed the narrative with quirk to make the more difficult moments go down just a little smoother. Once we finally arrive to the introduction of Pinky, she becomes a true standout. Her crazy past allows plenty of hilarious visual moments, including an anecdote about how she lost her pinky while dancing in Barcelona, or the sex she had on a plane once with John Denver. Pinky forms a deep bond with Grace, also managing to steal the show around every bend.
Memoir of a Snail is so brilliant thanks in large part to the relatable, grounded nature of its script. Even in the wake of family trauma and unforeseen tragedy, we must always try to find the light and beauty in what surrounds us. Elliot paints an entirely realistic portrait of grief and depression. The animation adds to this tale immeasurably, constantly feeling like an essential part of telling it rather than an unnecessary addition to the medium. A shift in one’s perspective can happen in the most unexpected of places—here, it occurs underneath the shell of a depressed loner, retracted from life by the swirling issues around her that she cannot control. Allowing us to follow Grace on her journey, relishing in all the cracks and deformities along the way, Adam Elliot has created a timeless, colorful masterwork of misfortune and connection.
Leave a trail of slime behind to learn about the meaning of life in Memoir of a Snail, in limited release theaters from IFC Films on Friday, October 25th.
