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Last Saturday night something very rare happened: I had nothing to do. My homework was complete, my laundry was done, and I had already prepared for the next week. With this unexpected opening in my schedule, I decided to watch a movie, and as I rummaged through the recesses of Disney+, one film caught my eye.
Memoir of a Snail (2024) caught my attention, as aside from the morbidly captivating art style, I really like snails. I pressed play without knowing anything about the film; I didn't know how charming the characters were, I didn't know how grounded yet fantastical the plot would be, and I definitely didn't know that an hour and a half later, it would become one of my favorite movies of all time.
Describing the plot of Memoir is a bit difficult, as it follows a Forrest Gump-esque structure in that the film consists of our main character, Grace Pudel (Sarah Snook), regaling the story of her life to a snail named Sylvia. Grace's life is replete with tragedy: growing up in 1970s Australia alongside her twin brother Gilbert (Mason Listos) and their father Percy (Domonique Pinon), whose death would separate Grace and Gilbert, as they are sent to live with different foster families.
It's a deeply tragic story, but what I appreciated most about it were the lessons it had to teach: in different ways, the film shows where love is truly found, the ways we should (and shouldn't) deal with loss, and so much more.
Love isn't a relationship
Memoir speaks about love primarily through two characters, both of whom seem absurd at first but help Grace grow, for better or for worse.
The first person who helps teach Grace about love is also the first character the movie shows us: Pinky (Jacki Weaver) is a delightfully eccentric old woman with an adventurous past, who quickly becomes Grace's first real friend after she helps Pinky realize that she's mistakenly been returning library books to a garbage bin. Pinky and Grace spend a lot of time together and become very close friends, as the meek and melancholy Grace is slowly drawn out of her shell by the boisterous and confident Pinky. In every sense, Grace and Pinky love each other deeply.
But it isn't until Grace meets her new neighbor Ken (Tony Armstrong) that she begins to learn about the sinister side of love. At first, Ken seems like the perfect green flag guy: a microwave repairman who enjoys using his leaf blower and cooking mini sausages, and doesn't seem to mind Grace's extensive hoarding of snail memorabilia (we'll get back to this later). It isn't long until the two are engaged, preparing for what should be a long and happy marriage.
Then Grace finds Ken's scrapbook, filled with provocative pictures of women as they gain weight. This is when Grace discovers Ken's perverse and manipulative fetish and breaks up with him. In her heartbreak, Grace becomes reclusive, rarely leaving her room and only talking to Pinky, who remains by her side and gently helps her heal from Ken's abuse both mentally and physically, as Grace slowly manages to shed the weight of what Ken did to her, figuratively and literally.
It is within this chapter of the story that Grace and the audience learn an important lesson: Love isn't a relationship; it's a continued action. Ken and Grace were in what was expected to be the most loving relationship two people can be in, yet, as we saw, Ken was willing to manipulate and abuse Grace for his own pleasure, far from love by any definition.
Compare this to Grace's relationship with Pinky, a deep friendship, of course, but very different from soon-to-be newlyweds, and yet look at the way Pinky treats Grace: she listens to her and talks to her and cares for her when she's hurt, all without ulterior motives; she does it simply because she loves her friend. And later, once Pinky is on her deathbed, Grace is there for her, not to pay her back, but because she loves her friend.
Grace and Pinky's love is strong and supportive, but most crucially, it is shown by actions, not labels.
Loss Isn't Losing
Memoir is filled with many touching moments, but my favorite is one of the saddest. To understand the scene, though, we have to understand my favorite character:
At the head of the Pudel family is Percy, once a street performer in France, where he met his wife, a passionate malacologist (snail scientist) who would eventually become the mother of his children. But when his wife passed during childbirth and Percy became unable to perform after a drunk driver cost him the use of his legs, he sought solace in alcohol, often falling asleep with a bottle in hand; the only thing that could wake him was the applause of his son and daughter, which reminded him of his time on the streets of France.
Despite his struggles, Percy was a deeply loving father. His son Gilbert inherited his dreams of performance, which Percy took great pride in, and his daughter Grace took up his wife's love of snails and had her own dreams of becoming an animator in France.
My favorite moment, arguably the saddest moment, comes after the happiest moment. Grace just finished telling Sylvia about her favorite day with her family, one where they got to go to an amusement park and ride a roller coaster. Grace talks about how much that moment meant to all of them, especially Percy, who enjoyed the simulated freedom so much that he wished for his ashes to be spread off the roller coaster. After coming home, the trio relaxes by the TV.
Then Percy closes his eyes, and Grace and Gilbert clap to wake him up, but Percy's eyes don't open; they never open.
This is the moment I love, and it's the moment that teaches Grace one of her earliest lessons. Grace has just lost one of the most important people in her life, yet she claps. I think there's such a beautiful lesson there, one that says we should appreciate what people have done not just in their life but in ours. Loss is a natural part of life, and I understand that it's hard, but that doesn't mean that it's bad.
Percy Pudel put on an amazing performance in his life; he found joy, found love, and managed to raise two kids, so what is there to cry about? A standing ovation is only fitting for such a show. Sure, Grace and Gilbert may have thought they were just clapping to wake him up, but in truth they were applauding the performance of a lifetime.
Our Cages Aren't Locked
A recurring theme throughout the film is characters indulging in unique vices to cope with the world around them, often to their own detriment.
I just noted how Grace's father turned to alcohol for relief, and how Ken had his own lustful addictions; these are each examples of characters building what Memoir describes as a "cage" around themselves as a means to stay sheltered from the world, and the examples go on.
The most prominent example of addiction in the film comes from Grace herself and her obsession with snails. As a kid, Grace turned to her mother's collection of snail memorabilia to find respite from the isolation caused by childhood bullying. But as life went on, what started as a small collection of knick-knacks grew to a massive hoard of (often stolen) snail symbolism encompassing her entire room.
Grace's collection, though initially harmless, was a manifestation of her loneliness, a loneliness that reached its peak after Pinky's death and Gilbert's supposed death. Grace had nobody and nothing left, a sobering thought that comes to her as she prepares to take her own life; but before she can, she discovers a note from Pinky, stuffed in a box buried in her garden, and it is within this note that Grace and the audience learn one final lesson, the most pertinent of the film:
"You have created a cage for yourself Gracie and the only way to escape is by overcoming your fears. Your cage has never been locked, but your fears have kept you trapped. Get rid of those snails, unshackle your mind forged manacles, set yourself free."
We all have our cages, our shells we like to hide in, and it makes sense why: our cages are comfortable, they make sense. We like them because we create them and we control them, or so we think; as much control as we think we have, it isn't until you try to leave your cage that you realize you lost the key.
But Memoir gives us the key; it tells us that the key is that there is no key because there is no lock. What's keeping us comfortable is what's keeping us stuck, because going nowhere is easier than going somewhere we don't like, but staying still is no way to live life, as Pinky teaches,
"Like I’ve said, life can only be understood backwards, but we have to live it forwards ... snails never go back over their trails ... always moving forward."
Grace takes this advice, burning her snail memorabilia and moving to France, where she becomes an animator and eventually reunites with a very alive Gilbert. Grace lives her dreams because she decided to live; she decided to live by deciding to step out of her cage, out of her comfort zone, and embrace the risk. It all started with a decision. What will you decide?
Memoir of a Snail, all things considered, was successful; it won Best Feature at Annecy International Animation Film Festival, was nominated for Best Animated Feature at the 97th Academy Awards, and maintains a strong 95% critics' score on Rotten Tomatoes.
So why did it take an empty Saturday night for me to hear about it? I hope to do my part in spreading the word about this amazing movie and everything it has to say, but as with most morals, they have to be felt, not read, which is why I highly encourage anyone reading this to give it a watch.
I'm sure you'll be surprised by what Memoir of a Snail has to say about love, loss, and everything in between.
