Naturally, 2024’s stop-motion movie conversation is going to be dominated by the return of Wallace and Gromit (and Feathers McGraw) in Aardman’s upcoming Vengeance Most Fowl but, if you can find room in your watch calendar for some more Claymation, Australian filmmaker Adam Elliot’s Memoir of a Snail is a more than worthy companion piece. Sharing some Aardman DNA in its style (especially the way Elliot animates animals), it’s a much darker, grosser, and sadder offering than anything Nick Park and co would put out, but shot through with enough sweetness and laughs to turn the story of a lonely, depressed hoarder into something much less grim than that synopsis makes out.
Memoir of a Snail is not *quite* actually about a snail, but the woman at its heart bears more than a passing resemblance to one. This is Grace Pudle (Sarah Snook) who, after the passing of her aged and Alzheimer’s-stricken best friend Pinkie (Jacki Weaver), relays her tragic life story to one of her pet snails and how it led to her being a woman whose only friend in the world was decades older than her. From a poor but love-filled childhood home shattered by parental death and an uncaring foster system to school bullying and later romantic mishap, Grace’s story is not a happy one, but Elliot deals with the misery gracefully, finding varied notes to play within her sadness.
There are laughs to be found here, and moments of real sweetness too, especially in Grace’s relationship with her twin brother Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee), who communicates with her mostly through letters after the foster system split them up and sent them to entirely opposite sides of Australia. Their shared warmth is both heartening and tragic, making the injustices done to them by the cruel people they encounter feel that much harsher.
Strong voice work helps, too. Snook especially has to be on top form as we are hearing her constantly. The ‘memoir’ in the title suggests someone looking back, and that is exactly what Memoir of a Snail does, its story told almost entirely through voiceover narrated vignettes. It keeps the pace up nicely, important in such an otherwise grim story, but it does also somewhat dampen some of the story’s power – nothing gets to really sit with us without swiftly being verbally explained and then moved on from, which somewhat blurs together the film’s various shades of grey. The darkest stuff hits no harder than the dark-ish stuff, though most of it is still affecting.
By design, this is an ugly film – people look bizarre and misshapen and almost every colour is some variation of grey or brown. You really do feel as if you’re seeing the world entirely through Grace’s haunted yet still just a little whimsical eyes, and it is very hard not to get caught up in her head. It’s an empathy that is everywhere in Memoir of a Snail and which elevates the story past its flaws – though they might look like lumpy clay molluscs, you truly wish the best for all its heroines and heroes.
Jack Blackwell – Film Reviews 