By John Corrado

In 2009, director Adam Elliot, the Australian animator behind the 2003 Oscar-winning short film Harvie Krumpet, released his debut feature Mary & Max. The excellent claymation film had a lovingly hand-crafted feel to it, and told the tender story of the pen-pal friendship between a girl and an autistic man, which Elliot explored with remarkable sensitivity.

Now Elliot returns with his long overdue follow-up Memoir of a Snail, and his second feature is another striking stop-motion portrait of non-neurotypical characters trying to figure out the world and their place in it. This time it’s the story of an eccentric, snail-obsessed Australian woman looking back on a life befallen by heartbreak and tragedy.

Like Mary & Max, this is a devastating story about still finding glimmers of hope in life; Memoir of a Snail is heartbreaking, but also powerfully affirming. The film is guided by actress Sarah Snook’s emotional narration. Snook gives voice to our protagonist Grace Pudel, an obsessive hoarder of snails and snail-related memorabilia who wears a knitted snail cap with ping pong ball eyes. The story unfolds as she recounts the story of her life to pet snail Sylvia, so named for her late mother’s favourite author Sylvia Plath.

Grace’s life has been marked by tragedy since the start, when her mother died in childbirth after delivering her and twin brother Gilbert into the world (“when we left her womb, she entered her tomb,” Snook’s Grace intones in one of the film’s many piercing lines). She gained the nickname “rabbit face” from bullies at school due to her cleft lip, with her twin brother being her biggest defender, before the two got separated and sent to separate foster homes.

Charlotte Belsey and Mason Litsos give voice to young Grace and Gilbert, while Kodi Smitt-McPhee voices the older Gilbert. Grace reflects on growing up with their disabled father (voiced by Dominique Pinon), who lost his ability to walk and work after being hit by a drunk driver, as well as her friendship with Pinky (voiced by Jacki Weaver), the quirky older lady who lived a storied life and takes Grace under her wing. Grace’s dream of being a stop-motion animator adds a meta undertone to the film.

At almost every turn, hope turns into heartache for Grace, as her life keeps delivering more and more setbacks and crippling loneliness. Like in Mary & Max, Elliot doesn’t shy away from the darker content (this is an animated film made for mature audiences). But what saves it from feeling overly morbid or morose, is the way that Elliot blends in moments of levity and glimmers of light, with his penchant for crudeness and dark humour.

On a technical level, Memoir of a Snail boasts incredible production design in its deceptively simple claymation, utilizing the same greyscale colour scheme as Mary & Max. There is real artistry on display in the stylized designs of these characters and their world. This is evident right from the opening credits sequence as the camera pans over piles of junk, with a tactile feel to every item we see. The film features lovely musical accompaniment throughout by the Australian Chamber Orchestra.

The film is ultimately defined by Elliot’s ability to use animation to explore some pretty heavy subject matter and themes, with at times disarming honesty. The story is underpinned by the metaphor of how snails can physically only move forwards and not backwards. It’s a powerful reminder to keep pushing yourself forward, even when circumstances make you feel stuck in place. Grace’s story may just move you to tears, but it is also richly rewarding. A wonderful companion piece to Mary & Max.

Film Rating: ★★★½ (out of 4)

Memoir of a Snail opens exclusively in theatres in limited release beginning on November 15th, including at TIFF Lightbox in Toronto. It’s being distributed in Canada by Mongrel Media.