FANTASTIC FEST: Dark Comedy Punctuates The Maudlin ‘Memoir Of A Snail’

Gracie (Sarah Snook) and Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee) are twins. They share one heart, and that’s important given the amount of tragedy and trauma that has consumed their lives. Set in 1970s Australia, Memoir of a Snail is told through Gracie’s perspective. She narrates the story and takes us through her winding life, which has as many ups and terrifying downs as you’d get from a rollercoaster.

Directed by Adam Elliot, the stop-motion animated film takes us through Gracie’s life from birth, through the passing of their father when she and her twin were separately placed in foster care, and the winding isolation and grief she experiences well into adulthood. While Grace grows up with a loving couple, Gilbert is sent to a cruel Christian family living on an orchard farm.

To calm her grief, Gracie turns to her snail collection, both real and fake. Snail figurines, snail shoes, snail paintings, and the little shelled creatures themselves give Gracie comfort. She also feels a kinship with them. Over adulthood, Gracie has to learn how to go through life without Gilbert as her protector while also holding onto the hope that he will one day save enough money to come and find her. After meeting an eccentric old woman named Pinky, Gracie’s life awakens, but the grief is never too far behind.

Memoir of a Snail isn’t focused on maintaining a glamorous aesthetic. Instead, the character models’ roughness and almost rudimentary look lend to the increasingly maudlin narration that we hear from Gracie. As the film continues on, there is virtually a dark fairy tale quality that the visuals begin to take. While I wasn’t a fan at first, the animation style began to capture me as Gracie pulled me deeper into her life. And as I fell further into Gracie’s trauma and melancholy, the intricacies of her room and how she saw the world shone through.

The detailed artistry in each of the environments throughout Memoir of a Snail is second to none. Each sign, each urn, and all of the fine details that make a home and a cage are truly astonishing. The dedication to layering each scene with thoughtful environmental elements is what sets Memoir of a Snail apart from anything I’ve seen all year.

Memoir of a Snail is a dark film, and there is no way around that. It makes you laugh with a morbid sense of humor that understands the need for levity throughout its runtime as it also lands gut punches. The pacing of the film feels like breathing. We experience Gracie’s trauma, and then we see her gain safety and love, then we see trauma, and then we see her try to recover again, and it cycles that way with each recovery harder and harder to pull off. This loop pays off with a finale that feels so extremely earned by an audience who has just been put through an emotional wringer. It’s a relief for Gracie and for us.

While the festival synopsis calls Memoir of a Snail heartwarming, I don’t know if that phrase adequately captures Gracie’s journey. Sure, she winds up on the other side of trauma, but the pathway there is difficult and long, a hot desert to walk through before ultimately finding a semblance of peace. Heartwarming isn’t what I would call it, but I would call Memoir of a Snail cathartic. Gracie’s traumatic experiences are hyperbolic and mostly humorous when looked at from our perspective.

Memoir of a Snail is the perfect balance between depressing and funny, highlighting the depth that animation can provide as a medium. There is more to animation than joyful, vibrant children’s films, and when we embrace it to tall, intimate stories, we let the medium expand. One of the best of the year, this stop-motion film is show-stoppingly weird and will be a must-watch when it releases from IFC Films.

Memoir of a Snail screened as a part of the Fantastic Fest 2024 program.