Memoir of a Snail Review

Memoir of a Snail may be disparaged for being ghoulish in its resentment for life. A limited reading, if taken. Memoir of a Snail is about grief and the punches life throws at Grace Pudel (Sarah Snook). Key to this, as was the crucial step in Mary and Max, is the opportunity to let optimism in, to exit the cage which was unlocked all the time. Memoirs of a Snail is an animated masterclass in parts. Its sense of maudlin, almost melodramatic-like moments, the grief piling and piling to pitiful, borderline unbelievable levels, is part of its charm. People with strokes of such bad luck as Grace exist. That is crucial in accepting the sense of grief and even, at times, guilt, of continuing. Life is providing an exit, some recourse for evacuating a rough time. But perseverance is the message, not a woe-is-me reading which some may pick up.  

No, the joy and longevity of life, the hope around the corner, is cemented with a few sharp moments from director Adam Elliot. A great entry into his style of clayography for those new to it, but a welcome, warm return to it for those well-versed in his filmography. Either way, the charm pours through. Snook and a cast featuring spots from Eric Bana, Nick Cave, and a tender, well-placed supporting role from Jacki Weaver as Pinky. Elliot has no trouble in crafting characters which stick in the mind, the wrinkles and cracks of bizarre people. It is unhinged but these people exist. There are those out there who are as tapped in the mind as the feeder, as the bully, and they are out to get you. 

Life is not a constant stream of searching for positivity. Low ebbs exist and nobody is in charge of its end other than an Almighty power or a stroke of luck. Religious or non-religious notions are not provided by Memoir of a Snail, but there is a crucial and constant look over the shoulder, a sense of learning from the past. But sometimes, as Grace finds, there is nothing to be learned. Good deeds are punished. This is not the work of a man hating in an unjust world, but a matter of fact. There is a principle of goodwill getting you nowhere. Memoir of a Snail makes it clear. Grace is a glass-half-full person in a world where her cup has been smashed. To read it as anything less than a tale of fictionalised perseverance in the face of a world which is quite ready to chew her up and spit it out is simply bad faith in a well-developed story with a tender message.  

Not only does Elliot expand on the greyed world but he finds the time to plant little lights in there too. There is a conclusion here which is absent in other efforts. Memoir of a Snail may have a heartstring-pulling end, but it is for the best. It maintains the fine performances throughout; it continues on with a strong message of perseverance in the face of complete and utter grief. It is resolve which sees you through it. Weaker hearts will look at Memoir of a Snail and think its greyed-out style, its fictionalised narrative of heavy thumps, is too much to bear. A load-bearing exercise in grief. And yet there are those living who have suffered worse. How is the suspension of disbelief not possible? Especially for a film so beautiful, so deep in its design and little flourishes. A spectacular achievement in continuing a unique perspective on the world, and Elliot manages to sprinkle positivity in there, even in its darkest spots.