Shocking Secrets Revealed in ‘Memoir of a Snail’ – You’ll Be Obsessed!

A snail can be both a serene and unnerving creature. Its decorative shell serves as a dwelling and a shield. Its slow pace, often leaving a sticky trail in its wake, makes it an untidy but harmless pest. However, for Grace Pudel, the human lead in director Adam Elliot’s clever, sorrowful new animated film “Memoir of a Snail,” the snail is a representation of the life she’s accepted. She takes comfort in snails (the living ones she looks after and the ornamental ones she collects) as a constant reminder of her isolation, much like a shell she can’t get rid of, or live without.

Grace is the snail in Elliot’s title; she’s always seen wearing a hat with two tentacled eyes made from juggling balls. The “memoir” we’re asked to witness is a painful one, full of heartache and trauma — yet, surprisingly, filled with crude humor, slapstick humor, clever wordplay, and humorous visual jokes. Having been named the best film at this year’s Annecy Animation Festival and, more recently, at the BFI London Film Festival, “Memoir of a Snail” (in theaters Oct. 25) easily stands as one of the best films of the year.

Grace (voiced by “Succession’s” Sarah Snook with a hint of dry melancholy), is first seen holding hands with her elderly friend Pinky (Jacki Weaver), who soon passes away. This is one of many losses Grace has suffered over the years. Left with no one but her favorite snail Sylvia (named after “The Bell Jar” author and poet Sylvia Plath), Grace begins to share her life’s story with her — and with us.

Her narrative starts from the beginning, when she was forcibly removed from the womb she shared with her twin brother, Gilbert — an event that left her an orphan with a cleft palate. The potential happy family that could have been formed by Grace and Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee) is shattered. They watch as their father, Percy, a former Parisian juggler now wheelchair-bound due to a drunk driver, slowly deteriorates due to alcoholism.

Upon Percy’s death, the twins are split up. Gilbert is sent to Perth to live with a family of religious zealots, while Grace is sent to a nudist swinger couple in Canberra. The story seems like a modern take on Roald Dahl, with his sharp wit and knack for the brutal reality of children and adults, seen through Elliot’s more reflective yet equally imaginative perspective.

In Grace, Elliot paints a poignant picture of a wounded woman who hoards. However, this description does not fully capture the essence of “Memoir of a Snail.” The film is anything but gloomy. It’s filled with vibrant secondary characters, like the lively Pinky, whose love for life remains unscathed by her own past tragedies. In fact, the Australian writer-director infuses the film’s numerous tall tales — like the one about Pinky’s second husband being eaten by a crocodile right before her eyes — with dry humor meant to soothe and amuse in equal parts. (A shot of a shy but satisfied crocodile makes for a great punchline.)

The filmmaker is aided by Snook’s often monotone delivery. Her voice makes the many extraordinary events she recounts feel rooted in a reality that refuses to wallow in self-pity. There is a push towards empathy, towards understanding and caring for the internal worlds of those we might otherwise overlook. This can also be felt in the tactile quality of Elliot’s stop-motion clay characters. Their rough shapes seem less like flaws and more like visual cues of their handmade origin, evidence that they’ve been meticulously sculpted with the beauty of truth, not the absolutism of realism.

As in his earlier feature, “Mary and Max” (2009), and in his Academy Award-winning short “Harvie Krumpet” (2003), “Memoir of a Snail” sees Elliot balancing comedy and tragedy, dark, complex themes and bright, hopeful aspirations. Grace’s world may be filled with shades of brown, gray, and beige, but Elliot makes these colors feel vibrant and full of life. Only a filmmaker as sensitive to his character’s plight would find the beauty and playful potential in the titular creature, transforming the spiral of its shell into a stunning motif about the importance of looking back to move forward.

Despite its personal focus, “Memoir of a Snail” is a monumental accomplishment. This moving animated film reminds us that Elliot is a humanist who skillfully molds his “clayographies” (as he calls his films) from the very essence of life itself.