Certificate: TBC

Running Time: 94 mins

UK Distributor: TBC

UK Release Date: DD MM YYYY

REVIEWED AT BFI LONDON FILM FESTIVAL 2024

WHO’S IN MEMOIR OF A SNAIL?

Sarah Snook, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Eric Bana, Magda Szubanski, Dominique Pinon, Toni Armstrong, Jacki Weaver, Paul Capsis, Nick Cave, Bernie Clifford, Davey Thompson, Charlotte Belsey, Mason Litsos

WHO’S BEHIND THE CAMERA?

Adam Elliot (director, writer, producer), Liz Kearney (producer), Elena Kats-Chernin (composer), Gerald Thompson (cinematographer), Bill Murphy (editor)

WHAT’S IT ABOUT?

In 70s Australia, young Grace (Snook) is tragically separated from her twin brother (Smit-McPhee)…

WHAT ARE MY THOUGHTS ON MEMOIR OF A SNAIL?

One of the many beautiful things about animation is that it allows for a wide variety of visual styles to be utilised more than in most live-action projects. From the luscious technicolour landscapes of hand-drawn 2D Disney classics to the thumbprint-coated Plasticine designs of Aardman’s shorts and features, every animator has been able to distinguish themselves from one another with their own little touches that inform the world of their unique approach to the craft.

Adam Elliot, the Australian stop-motion filmmaker, is one whose style is immediately recognisable from the moment they see it, like the most iconic animators out there. Across his various shorts, including the Oscar-winning Harvie Krumpet, and his previous feature Mary and Max, Elliot has become easily defined by his grim visual palette, wherein numerous frumpy and sometimes off-putting character designs roam amidst a gloomy grey atmosphere, but also for his surprisingly plentiful heart underneath all the unpleasant imagery. His latest feature, Memoir of a Snail, cements Elliot’s unusual approach to animation and its infinite visual and storytelling possibilities, as he tells a grounded tale of misery and despair with the utmost sweetness that may just make you more than a bit emotional.

The film tells the story of a young woman named Grace Pudel (voiced by Sarah Snook) – or more specifically, Gracie herself tells the story of her own life to her pet snail, Sylvia. Born prematurely in the early 70s alongside her twin brother Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee) with a hair lip and an unusual fascination with snails, Grace initially has a happy enough childhood with her paraplegic alcoholic father Percy (Dominique Pinon), but when tragedy suddenly strikes, the twins are forced to live on opposite sides of the country with foster families. Gilbert is placed within an extremely religious household where he is subject to abuse by the decisively very un-Christian matriarch (Magda Szubanski), and while Grace has a slightly better arrangement with a well-meaning but ultimately dull swinger couple in Canberra, even finding a close friend in the form of eccentric pensioner Pinky (Jacki Weaver), she still pines for her brother as the years go by, and her uneventful life becomes more and more unsavoury.

If it sounds like a partial bummer, you wouldn’t be far off. Memoir of a Snail, like Elliot’s previous works, bathes itself in misery within the kind of grim and unpleasant storytelling you’d often find in one of Roald Dahl’s works. Everything in this world appears designed to bring its main character down a peg or two, even a potential love interest who ends up having some rather alternative intentions, and it creates a glum atmosphere that the consistent grey colour palette only exacerbates, especially within supposedly bright environments like an amusement park or someone’s garden. It is, of course, all part of Elliot’s style of filmmaking, wherein he refuses to back down from how ugly this world is to both look at and live in, something that the exceptional stop-motion animation has plenty of fun bringing to life, and in doing so makes the viewer feel as helpless and hopeless as its long-suffering protagonists.

Amidst all that ugliness, though, is a tremendous heart that provides a blissful light at the end of the tunnel. This is an exceptionally sweet film, for you really are on board with Grace as she keeps finding ways to see the goodness in people and situations, even when faced with traumatising tragedy such as loss and separation, making her a strong-willed character whose goals and methods you can’t help but root for. A few moments may even bring you close to a few tears, as Elliot pours so much empathy and affection into this character that when her journey reaches certain crescendos, you are so overcome with emotion that anything less than the sniffles would be seen as a failure.

It is also a very funny film, with Elliot also inserting a lot of dark and surprisingly mature humour throughout the film. An early scene sees a bully having one of their digits snapped in the other direction, and it comes with the suddenness of a custard pie to the face. In later recollections, people die in comically horrific fashion, and their tombstones are some of the uncomfortably hilarious punchlines you could imagine for their individual scenarios. You even get to see a LOT of stop-motion nudity here, often for comedic purposes but in most cases the initial shock of even seeing it within this kind of medium does draw some uncomfortable laughter. There is more than a hint of some twisted humour throughout this film, and Elliot savours every moment as he continuously finds the lighter side out of increasingly depressing situations.

You’ll certainly feel a lot of feelings whilst watching Memoir of a Snail, enough to send your own Inside Out-style emotions into overdrive. But as much as it succeeds at telling its touchingly grotesque story, it does have one or two hiccups. The narrative itself does rely a lot on dialogue to move itself forward, almost to a point where it practically becomes an audiobook at times, one that happens to be set to eye-catching visuals that compliment the talking instead of simply showing the action. There’s also an ending that is undeniably moving, but it does require a significant suspension of disbelief (yes, even in an animated feature) to accept certain aspects of it.

Those minor things aside, Memoir of a Snail is endearing stuff from an animator whose distinctly unpleasant style is put to very good use.

SO, TO SUM UP…

Memoir of a Snail is a charmingly grotesque animated feature from Adam Elliot that carries a profound sense of heart amidst an endless wave of grimness, with strong emotional power to leave you on the verge of tears.

Click here to find how you can see Memoir of a Snail at this year’s BFI London Film Festival!

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