Memoir of a Snail, the winner of the official competition at this year’s London Film Festival, is a stop-motion animation set in its writer-director Adam Elliot’s native Australia. However, this is not the Australia of sun-dappled coastlines and beach-ready bodies, as Elliot blends Aardman-style animation with a Burtonesque aesthetic in a tale of tragedy, comedy and perseverance.
The film follows Grace Pudel, who lives in Melbourne with her twin brother Gilbert and father Percy. The Pudels have been dampened by tragedy as Grace and Gilbert’s mother died in childbirth, leaving behind her snail collection with which Grace has become obsessed. Meanwhile Percy, a former Parisian juggler, has since become paralysed, an alcoholic, and developed sleep apnoea. Grace is also tormented because of her cleft lip, and Gilbert must regularly defend her from bullies. Despite all this, the Pudels live a quietly happy life caring for each other and reading age-inappropriate books like Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar.
Yet tragedy strikes again when Percy dies in his sleep, and social services send Grace and Gilbert to foster families at opposite ends of the country. Grace is shipped off to childless swingers in Canberra’s suburbs, and Gilbert is forced to live with a family of apple-worshipping fundamentalists in Western Australia. The film then traces Grace’s life into adulthood, separated from her brother, as she struggles to find connection, meaning, and happiness. The film is, at times, remarkably bleak as it touches on themes of loneliness, self-harm, kleptomania, and toxic relationships. We witness Grace being worn down by life as he begins to consider herself ugly, uses hordes of junk to erect barriers to the outside world, and retreats day by day into her shell. She truly is one of life’s victims, constantly on the cusp of happiness but ambushed by misfortune at every turn.
However, amongst all this darkness, the film also finds levity through its visual ingenuity and anarchic sensibility. The affection with which Elliot has moulded his world is evident. It feels textured, playful and an act of pure, unconventional imagination. He also weaves in references to Australian life, including Arnott biscuit tins, Greyhound buses, and trips to the Melbourne Luna Park, which breathe with intimacy and authenticity. Elliot worked on the project for 8 years, and it is layered with the love and care he has kneaded into it. The are also some brilliantly absurd, often sex-based, comedic beats involving ejaculating snails, fornicating guinea pigs, and masturbating courtroom judges. They add an off-kilter amusement which helps uplift the film. As does the arrival of Pinky, a foul-mouthed, eccentric, carefree pensioner who has travelled the world, slept with John Denver, and given herself coffee enemas. Pinky becomes Grace’s one friend and an emotional lifeline through her toughest moments who provides constant reminders of the potential for life to get better.
Indeed, their relationship takes us to Memoir of a Snail’s core. It is a film that travels into the doldrums of human despair but shows that through perseverance one can always bounce back. It captures the depression and warped outlook on life that can overrun anyone and finds the goodness which lies underneath. It is a film about the beauty which resides within the wretched puzzle of life. The more the film seeks to drive this message home, it perhaps becomes a little too saccharine. The line “Life is not about looking backwards but about living forwards” stands out as a particularly sickly platitude. However, Elliot’s off-centred humour combined with Memoir of a Snail’s overwhelming kindness more than compensates for this. To appropriate another platitude, it is a small film with a big rude heart.
The film was screened at this year’s London Film Festival and will be released in UK Cinemas on 14th Feburary 2025.