Grace Pudel (voiced by Sarah Snook) in Memoir of a Snail (IFC Films)

Memoir of a Snail is a tragicomedy in every sense of the word. The film seamlessly shifts between bitter melodrama and slice-of-life amusement, lamenting the unfairness of the hand Grace Pudel is dealt in one moment, then offering her temporary catharsis in the next. It straddles a fine line between the deeply bizarre and the grounded, making its dark moments hit home all the more poignantly. This duality makes Claymation the perfect medium for telling this particular story.

It’s a genre Australian director Adam Elliot knows intimately, marking his return to feature filmmaking after 2009’s Mary and Max. His style leans more toward Tim Burton than Aardman Animation, and it’s easy to spot similarities between Memoir of a Snail’s distorted facial models and the designs in Corpse Bride or Frankenweenie rather than the polished cheerfulness of Wallace and Gromit. This visual aesthetic pairs beautifully with the film’s flashback-heavy narrative, which examines Grace’s struggles as a sibling and, later, an orphan. With a mix of sadness and humor, it draws clear parallels between her hardships and her affection for the titular gastropods—so much so that Grace delivers her recollections to an audience of one: her pet snail, Sylvia.

Born prematurely with a cleft lip and losing her mother during childbirth, Grace (voiced by Succession’s Sarah Snook) finds two major sources of comfort as a child: her fascination with snail memorabilia and the unwavering love of her twin brother, Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee). Their father, a wheelchair-bound ex-street juggler, knits the snail-eye hat Grace wears throughout, while Gilbert protects her from school bullies—often at great physical cost. Until their dad passes away, they have each other, clinging to a dream of reaching Paris and starting new lives in the City of Light as entertainers.

Becoming orphans sets the siblings on drastically different paths. Child services uproot Grace from Melbourne to Canberra, where she lands with well-meaning but largely absent foster parents who turn out to be swingers (leading to a moment of humorous misunderstanding when Grace thinks this refers to swing sets). Meanwhile, Gilbert is sent to the other side of Australia to perform grueling labor on an apple farm run by religious zealots. Despite their separation, Gilbert’s letters sustain Grace, as she struggles to form connections. One exception is the audacious Pinky (Jacki Weaver), an unlikely yet invaluable companion. Pinky, a cigar-chomping woman with a colorful past—including exotic dancing, playing ping-pong with dictators, and losing two husbands in darkly comic circumstances—becomes Grace’s rock as she wrestles with grief and isolation.

There’s a handcrafted moodiness to Memoir of a Snail that perfectly complements its humor and melancholy. The meticulous attention to detail in Elliot’s world-building brings this story to life, making it deeply Australian with references to Luna Park and Chiko rolls. Yet, it’s also a profoundly sad world. Bad things happen, and the characters endure them with a sigh, a grimace, or a resigned “bugger,” always seeking small joys to carry them through. For Grace, those joys include amassing (and sometimes stealing) snail memorabilia, clinging to the hope of reuniting with Gilbert, and leaning on Pinky for solace.

The film doesn’t shy away from dark reveals. An early joke about a homeless ex-magistrate (Eric Bana) losing his job manages to be both debauched and tragic, though it culminates in a heartfelt payoff during the movie’s final moments. Similarly, while the audience might anticipate the eventual breakup between Grace and her future husband, Ken (Tony Armstrong), the cause of their split is far more disturbing than typical relationship woes. Gilbert’s harrowing life on the farm is equally gut-wrenching. Yet, despite its bleakness, the film is infused with moments of warmth. Acts of kindness and humility—often sparked by Pinky—propel Grace forward, even when she feels stuck. It’s a message that resonates deeply with anyone who’s navigated life’s darker periods.

This is where Elliot’s animation excels: While its style might seem kid-friendly, it’s remarkably effective at tackling adult themes with emotional resonance, often more so than live-action films. Much like Inside Out 2 and The Wild Robot, which explored mature concepts earlier this year, Memoir of a Snail strikes a chord with older audiences while retaining a universal appeal. Ultimately, it’s a poignant reminder that sometimes, overcoming life’s challenges starts with finding the courage to come out of your shell.