The stop-motion animated “Memoir of a Snail” is one of the most profoundly affecting, devastatingly beautiful films you’ll see all year.
I would not have expected that an animated film about a woman obsessed with snails would be the one to break me and shake me to my core.
The heartbreaking, achingly beautiful Memoir of a Snail is about a woman named Grace Pudel (Sarah Snook; Succession) who falls in love with snails at a young age and develops a rather unhealthy obsession with them as she ages and tries to navigate the pain and horror of a life fraught with loss, tragedy, and loneliness.
Yet, there’s a far more meaningful reason for centering this film around snail imagery.
It’s a thought-provoking metaphor for how we build our own shells to protect and isolate ourselves from the things that scare and scar us.
Life has not been particularly kind to the shy and awkward Grace, who narrates her tumultuous life story to her beloved snail, Sylvia—named after her mother’s favorite author, Sylvia Plath. From the moment she entered the world, her life has been plagued with tragedy, beginning with the death of her mom during childbirth. But it’s not just Grace who suffers at the cruel hand of fate.
It’s her father (Dominique Pinon), a former animator and street performer left paralyzed and poor after an accident. It’s her twin brother and best friend in the world, Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee), separated from Grace and sent to live in a monstrous foster home following the death of their father. It’s the eccentric elderly woman she befriends, Pinky (Jacki Weaver), whose own childhood was filled with neglect and sadness.
After years of languishing in a cocoon of isolation and introversion, Grace finds the kind of love that brings her out of her shell and offers her a chance to rewrite her bleak story, perhaps with the happy ending she’s always dreamt of but never believed possible.
However, another turn of the screw forces Grace to retrieve further into her self-imposed prison, almost losing herself completely until an unexpected act of kindness gives her the hope and courage she needs to keep going.
If it’s unclear, this is not a children’s animated film.
It’s very adult in its themes and some of its explicit content, exploring such dark topics as alcoholism, death, despair, a broken foster system, intolerance, cruelty, exploitation, and poverty.
The craftsmanship, time, and painstaking dedication required to create this exquisite stop-motion world are wildly impressive. Written and directed by Academy Award-winning animation writer and director Adam Elliot, it’s a monumental testament to heartfelt storytelling and artistic passion.
A team of artists spent almost a year making 7,000 objects that bring Grace’s often gloomy but miraculous world to life. This is Elliot’s second feature film, released fifteen years after his widely celebrated Mary and Max (2009).
It took eight years to craft this masterpiece. Indeed, it is a masterpiece with a weighty, deeply human story, enchanting visuals, a stunning score, and a mesmerizing vocal performance from Snook. It’s impossible not to care about these characters, especially the kindhearted but beleaguered Grace.
Meanwhile, Pinky is the film’s most electric and engaging character, a free-spirited juggernaut of devil-may-care abandon and a welcome comedic reprieve amidst all the doom and gloom.
If you’ve ever wanted to lock yourself away and hide from a world too devastating to face, this story will resonate with you on a deep level.
Life rarely unfolds as we hope or expect, constantly bombarding us with unexpected twists and turns and too often kicking us when we’re down. It’s full of misery, disappointment, unimaginable grief, and often a crippling loneliness.
Memoirs of a Snail does not shrink from facing this harsh reality head-on.
Yet, Elliot realizes there is transcendent grace and salvation in human connection. With Memoirs, he makes you walk through hell to find redemption, but this is ultimately a hopeful film and a powerful reminder about the aching beauty of life despite its horrors.
As someone who has spent the better part of a year isolating and feeling burdened by the weight of the world, Memoir of a Snail wrecked me, but it also—as odd as it may sound—began to heal me with a message delivered with a loving but intense gut punch.
This film will destroy you, but it does so with a tenderness and affection that keeps it from feeling nihilistic or cruel. There is warmth, love, and humor here that will wrap you in a cozy cocoon even as you wonder how much more tragedy you can endure.
Memoirs of a Snail will break your heart… and you’ll be fiercely grateful for it.
The post Reel Review: Memoir of a Snail (2024) appeared first on Morbidly Beautiful.