Of all the ways to ruminate on grief and loss, a stop-motion animated dramedy is not the most obvious option, but, despite the whimsical nature of the medium, Adam Elliot‘s heartbreaking Memoir of a Snail proves such a catharsis on the emotion.
Animated it may be, Memoir of a Snail is not a child-friendly affair, with a certain macabre nature lacing the majority of its 94 minutes as it tells the dire tale of Grace Pudel (Sarah Snook, voicing the character with a tenderness that immediately warms us to her), het twin brother, Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee), and the family tragedy that befalls them.
Right from its opening moments, Elliot very much operates in the guise of finding the humour in the horrors of life, and before we truly know the story of Grace – and why snails are such an important facet in her life (and metaphorically to the story) – we’re confronted with the death of Pinky (Jacki Weaver), a cooky, elderly woman with a penchant for the bizarre who, quite excruciatingly, takes her final breaths in front of Grace, before wildly exclaiming “POTATOES!” and passing away again.
It’s a scene of equal hilarity and devastation, and so much of the film follows suit. Inseparable as children, the first stages of Memoir… informs us of Grace and Gilbert’s unbreakable bond. Both adhering to opposing sides of the glass being either half full or empty, when their parents both pass away we see that they are ultimately failed by everyone else in their lives, and the individual paths they follow speaks to that systemic failure, as well as their tenacity in wanting to reunite.
By way of the Magda Szubanski-voiced evangelical manipulator who fosters Gilbert, to a truly vile sub-plot involving Grace’s hopeful husband, with body parts littered along the way (yes, there’s broken bones, ejaculate and swinging tits for good measure), Elliot’s wondrous, delightfully grim meditation on anguish caters to a distinct palate, but its themes prove universal. Utterly surreal, yet no less honest, like Elliot’s previous work, Memoir of a Snail is desolatingly beautiful in how it honours our existence and champions the stillness that so many of us avoid.
FOUR AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Memoir of a Snail is now screening in Australian theatres.
