Memoir of a Snail (c) IFC Films
Review: Memoir of a Snail
In Cinemas
If I were to take a stand and declare Adam Elliot’s stop-motion Memoir of a Snail as the best animated film of 2024, then I would have to battle fans of Dreamworks’ The Wild Robot, of which there are many. I concede that Robot does indeed have the better animation, with its dueling glorious nature vistas and a vision of a tech-dominated world, but Snail, painstakingly rendered in a somewhat bleaker animated vision, has the better story. Like Elliot’s remarkable earlier films, the Oscar-winning short Harvie Krumpet and the underrated feature Mary and Max, Snail centers around an imperfect protagonist. Her name is Grace (a wonderful Sarah Snook, channeling the cadence of Hannah Gadsby), an Australian woman who, at the start of the film, mourns the loss of a friend and, as tradition, releases one of her pet snails into the garden while narrating her life up to this point. Her mother died in childbirth and her father is a failed, alcoholic street magician, so her only lifeline is her brother Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee), who would do anything, as when he is asked as a young boy to give blood to save his sister and he says yes, even though he believes he would have to die in order to do so. This kind of charming kids’ logic is pervasive throughout the film, especially when the siblings are separated, and Gilbert goes to live with a religious family and Grace goes to a couple whose extracurricular activities are too delicious to spoil here. Their separate journeys and occasional letters to each other make up the bulk of the film, both full of heartache and strife but always with a hint of (possibly pointless) optimism. Along with Elliot’s inventive animated vision, the film’s biggest assets have to be the quirky but always engaging score by Elena Kats-Chernin and the vocal performance of Snook (Emmy-winner for Succession), which, like the late Philip Seymour Hoffman in Mary, is both heartbreaking and joyful. Other outstanding voice performances include the invaluable Jacki Weaver and a smooth Eric Bana. Elliot also does not shy away from the darker aspects of human existence (Grace’s relationship with snails may be a symptom of a more serious underlying condition), so it is definitely not a children’s animated film. But in the battle between the slick Robot and the scrappy Snail, I believe the snail wins this year’s animated race by a slow, but wide, slimy mile.
High Tide (c) Strand Releasing
Film: High Tide
In Cinemas
Soulmates are fickle things. They usually don’t appear with any clarity or trumpets heralding. Even Romeo and Juliet were in the midst of other relationships (remember Paris or Rosalind?) before their fateful meeting. So it is with Lourenço (Marco Pigossi), whose boyfriend disappears without explanation, leaving him stranded in Provincetown, Massachusetts in the waning days of summer, where his only option is to find someone to sponsor him for a work visa or he’ll have to return to his small, religious hometown in Brazil. He has a sort of benefactor in Scott (Bill Irwin), who lets him stay in his small guest cottage, and he is making some under-the-table money cleaning houses and occasionally helping to paint the house of local artist Miriam (Marisa Tomei). His only moment of relaxation comes from his daily beach visits and swimming in the ocean where he meets Maurice (the likeable James Bland) on the beach and soon gets adopted in a small group of friends. This is writer/director Marco Calvani first full-length film, and he has a more languid look of gay summer mecca life than, say, 2022’s excellent Fire Island (which also referenced Marisa Tomei … DiVA!). But like Andrew Ahn’s film, Calvani also examines the racist underbelly of gay life as Lourenço is Brazilian and Maurice is African American. The two have an easy, spontaneous charm between them and it’s a slow, believable dance as they get to know each other. The work visa aspect of the story has more familiar beats, which includes a demeaning boss and Scott’s lawyer friend (Bryan Batt), who is sympathetic to Lourenço’s situation (cue the lawyer’s hand brushing on Lourenço’s knee). What holds this all together is the warm and generous Pigossi who gives heart to Lourenço’s plight since he expected to have fun in Provincetown but finds himself almost an unseen second-class citizen. The ending feels better suited to a novel with Lourenço’s plans seeming to be more symbolic than realistic. Still, this is one of the better gay romantic dramas of the year and worth a look.
We Live in Time (c) A24
Film: We Live in Time
In Cinemas
Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield have electric chemistry in director John Crowley’s We Live in Time, possibly the most romantic British successor to Love Actually. Unfortunately, there are excessive filmmaking ideas that dilute the central love story. One of these ideas is the fractured timeline that writer Nick Payne toyed with in his plays Constellations and Incognito and in his script for his film The Last Letter From Your Lover. Here, we meet Almut (Pugh) and Tobias (Garfield), at first vacationing in their posh country cottage with Almut picking herbs and eggs for Tobias’ breakfast. She is a chef, which we see in another scene (I think it’s time to ditch the whole “yes, chef” fancy restaurant milieu that The Bear did so well before running it into the ground), who has a chance to compete in an international televised culinary competition, a “Eurogastric Food Contest,” if you will. Then just as we get to know the pair, we see them in a doctor’s office getting really bad news. This kind of jumbled narrative would be fine if there was a logical reason to have it played out like a jigsaw puzzle the audience has to assemble, but the film’s last act is the ending of their story with nary a flashback to give us any hint of irony, clarity or possible hidden meanings. The only good thing about this presentation is that the ridiculous meet-cute is held off long enough for us to get to know the pair before we find out why corporate marketing Tobias is in a robe with no ID in a hospital with a cast and a neck brace with total stranger Almut nearby. The following section (from the accident to the birth of their daughter) is where the movie really lets the two actors shine, casually referencing the bisexuality of one as well as having them jump through hoops to conceive. When the film revs up for its heart-tugging, tear-jerking finale, something feels false, as Payne throws in implausibility on top of implausibility as to why a Michelin-star chef would tsunami her personal life just to be the next Bobby Flay. Pugh handles this rollercoaster ride with grace and determination, and she is certainly the standout here, getting a much-needed assist from Garfield, who does a lot with his eyes, usually on the verge of tears, for most of the movie. Both roles may be the most traditional of either of their careers, but you believe their love more than this specific life in time.
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