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Memoir of a Snail movie review (2024) | Roger Ebert

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Memoir of a Snail movie review (2024) | Roger Ebert

What’s worse than the shells that other people place us in our lives? The shells that we place on ourselves. This idea of the intangible things that we carry on our backs like insecurity, depression, grief, and trauma is at the core of Adam Elliot’s moving stop-motion saga “Memoir of a Snail,” which is unlike any other animated film you will see this year. It’s a gorgeous film, but it’s also an emotionally intelligent movie, one that shifts and flows between comedy and tragedy, reminding us that life can only be lived forwards.

Sarah Snook of “Succession” fame delicately voices Grace, who is telling her life story to her favorite pet snail Sylvia after the death of the last person on Earth she cared about, her best friend Pinky (a wonderful Jacki Weaver). It’s a story of notable hardship. Mom died in childbirth. Dad was a paraplegic who didn’t live long enough to raise Grace or her twin brother Gilbert (voiced by Kodi Smit-McPhee in adulthood). The twins were split after dad passed, sending Grace to a pair of swingers—yes, this is a shockingly adult stop-motion movie, likely setting a new record for nudity in the form—and Gilbert to a family of religious fundamentalists on the other side of the country. Much of “Memoir of a Snail” consists of letters sent back and forth between Grace and Gilbert, vowing to return to each other as soon as they can escape the shells that life has placed on them.

Just because it’s stop-motion doesn’t mean “Memoir of a Snail” can’t be one of the most thematically dense films of the year. Elliot has crafted a whimsical world, one that feels inspired by the work of Marc Caro & Jean-Pierre Jeunet in films like “Delicatessen” and “Amelie”—an inspiration that gains even more likelihood with the inclusion of JPJ regular Dominique Pinon in the voice cast. There’s an exaggerated, fantasy aesthetic to some sequences, but it’s all grounded just enough in reality to allow its emotions to register. What I’m saying is don’t expect talking snails. This is a story of an ordinary life in many ways, made extraordinary in how beautifully it’s told. And while we’re on the technical acumen of this film, a brief aside to note one of the best scores of the year, by far, from Elena Kats-Chernin, so lovely that it almost becomes a character in the film. It’s essential to the spell this movie casts.

That spell is bursting to the seams with ideas, emotions, and references. It’s not every day you see a stop-motion animated film with nods to Sylvia Plath, Lord of the Flies, and Cahiers du Cinema, but the creator of the equally marvelous “Mary & Max” is also a phenomenal writer, something that is often underestimated in the visual form of animation. This is a carefully calibrated character arc—just as the bleakness of Grace’s story feels like it’s going to overwhelm you, Elliot pivots to revel in the unpredictable grace of life, reminding us that snails can’t move backwards, and neither can we. That’s kind of the point. Just when we think life is too much, a warm gesture from a stranger or a memory of a loved one or even just a good book or film can shift our perspective.

“Memoir of a Snail” is one of those tender films in which every frame and every line feels so carefully considered, and yet it’s somehow not over-written at the same time. Some may disagree and wish the film could allow for someone to emotionally catch their breath, but that’s not how a story like this works. By charting Grace’s entire life to this point, Elliot is allowed to explore so many different ideas from the childhood insecurity placed on Grace by bullies to Gilbert’s horrifically judgmental family to the way Pinky pushes away all of the things that try to hold her down. Pinky’s joie de vivre is essential to the success of “Memoir of a Snail,” a reminder of both Grace’s inherent kindness and how we must live every moment on this earth to the fullest.

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Elliot’s script is so loaded with ideas that people will be able to take different aspects of it into their own lives, but it’s actually a line about Grace’s eventual husband that I’ll carry for a long time. His hobby is repairing broken pottery, but not in a way that hides that it was broken in the first place. “All things can be repaired, and our cracks celebrated.” When we discard the shells that we’ve placed on ourselves in life, we don’t do so easily. We can still see the cracks. But we can also choose to celebrate them.

This review was filed from Fantastic Fest. It opens on October 25th.

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Movie Reviews

Unpaarvayil Movie Review: A By-The-Book Psycho Thriller That’s Blind To Its Flaws

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Unpaarvayil Movie Review: A By-The-Book Psycho Thriller That’s Blind To Its Flaws
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The Times of India

TNN, Jan 13, 2026, 1:24 PM IST

2.0

Un Paarvayil Movie Synopsis: When her twin sister dies under mysterious circumstances, Bhavya goes on a hunt to find the murderer, but the fight isn’t easy as she loses her vision.Un Paarvayil Movie Review: The opening sequence of Un Paarvayil reminds one of a few finely written scenes from films about twins like Charulatha (2012) or Thadam (2019) where we learn about their special bond. In Un Paarvayil, Bhavya (played by Parvati Nair) gets on stage to receive the Best Business Woman award. Parallely, her twin, Dhivya (also played by Parvati Nair), is stuck in a dangerous situation. As the latter faces difficulty, Bhavya, who is on stage, also feels like she is being choked and struggles to breathe – an instant telepathy of sorts that suggests her sister is in danger. Without a lot of words or too many scenes, this one sequence conveys the bond between the sisters Bhavya and Dhivya. However, this narrative creativity is never seen on screen again throughout the film’s run time.Everything about Un Paarvayil is right on paper. With a textbook formula, Un Paarvayil has the right recipe for a psycho thriller – a scary bungalow, a loving but mysterious husband, and a psycho killer. But that’s about it. The stage is set, writing is done, and actors deliver the dialogues, but these don’t come together cohesively. In most scenes, the dialogue delivery is bland, and the writing becomes increasingly predictable. For instance, Bhavya is informed very early on in the film that Dhivya has a best friend with whom she shares all her secrets. However, the writing is so contrived that until the last moment, Bhavya never thinks about reaching out to this friend to learn more about her sister. It’s as though Bhavya forgot that piece of the puzzle.Which is why it feels like the film suffers from progressive amnesia. For instance, at one point, it looks like the cops give lethargic explanations for a murder, but we are not sure if they are just lethargic or are partners-in-crime with the psycho killer. And we keep wondering – but we never get to know that because the film has forgotten such a sequence existed. Likewise, Bhavya learns about an important CCTV evidence and pursues it. Still, before she uncovers the truth, she begins to track down another clue, and the CCTV evidence is never mentioned again. Remember how we see the twins share a unique connection in the opening sequence? It is also depicted only once and gets forgotten. Just like this, the film keeps jumping from one sequence to another, with all the old clues left behind and forgotten, before another new clue randomly reaches Bhavya. So, the next time we find a missing puzzle, we are no longer curious about it.That said, the film did have some interesting scenes. Whenever the psycho killer is on screen, the tension rises, and we are hooked to what’s next – but such sequences are very few. By the book, it might look like the film has a perfect premise, and some really good performances from Parvati Nair and Mahendran do make things intriguing, but the film turns a blind eye to its basic cinematography and contrived writing, leaving us in the dark for the most part.

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Film Review: “Primate”

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Film Review: “Primate”

Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!

Warning: Full spoilers for the film follow.

I am a sucker for a good ape movie. I’ve been obsessed with Planet of the Apes for literally decades, and I continue to find apes both fascinating and more than slightly terrifying, particularly chimps. Of course, the news has been filled with stories of pet chimps (and their own owners) going amuck, as the recent series Chimp Crazy makes clear. Indeed chimps in particular are eternally coming up in our popular culture. In addition to Planet of the Apes, Jordan Peele’s Nope featured a chimp attack as a key part of its story, suggesting that our dear simian relatives are an enduring source of fear and fascination for us. They seem so understandable and yet so utterly alien, and what better way to make sense of, or at least experience, this contradiction through the vernacular of horror?

This brings us to Primate, the new slasher film from director Johannes Roberts (who co-wrote the script with Ernest Riera). Arguably the emotional center of the story is Lucy (Johnny Sequoyah), who returns home to her family’s isolated cliffside mansion in Hawaii, where she’s reunited with her father, sister, and the family’s friendly chimp companion Ben, along with some other equally bland personalities. It soon turns out that poor Ben has been infected with rabies and, sans treatment, he soon goes on a rampage, quickly turning from cuddly and affectionate to sadistic and murderous. It’s all Lucy and her sister and the rest of the gang can do to stay alive (spoiler alert: almost none of them make it out alive).

Primate is undeniably gripping. Roberts is a skilled visual stylist, and he has a keen command of space, lighting, and sound. A number of wide shots show us just how isolated the family home is from anywhere around, situated on a bluff that offers no easy escape once Ben becomes murderous, while dim lighting effectively creates a nightmare landscape from one which our protagonists cannot escape. Of equal note is an unsettling scene in which Ben presses his face up against some distorting glass, creating a nightmarish image that will stick with you as his murderous rage grows. Even props have their part to play, from the speech device that Ben uses to convey his feelings–which becomes ironic later in the film–to a broken chair that becomes key to his demise. Adrian Johnston’s soundtrack, likewise, helps to keep your nerves constantly jangled as you wait for the next bout of slaughter to unfold, and I appreciated a scene in which Lucy’s deaf father, played by Troy Kotsur, returns home, even as the film muffles sounds so we inhabit his deafness. The juxtaposition of silence with Ben’s renewed attacks on Lucy is quite effective.

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In my opinion, every horror movie worth its salt has one kill that’s both exceptionally gnarly and also deeply disturbing, and in this regard Primate does not disappoint. The unfortunate victim in this case is Drew, one of the dude-bros from the airplane that Lucy and her friends meet right at the beginning who, upon encountering Ben in the bedroom, has his jaw ripped right off. There’s something almost poignant about the way his eyes continue to dart around, filled with an anguished knowledge that death is imminent as he chokes on his own blood. It’s also bleakly funny, as Ben, seeming to sense his victim’s dismay and to find humor in it, uses the detached jaw to mock his anguished gurgling and then, as if that weren’t enough, almost seeming to try to reattach the torn-off jaw (the resulting sound of teeth clacking against bone is viscerally unsettling). It’s a brilliantly-executed piece of horror cinema and this scene alone was worth the price of admission, though I did find myself wishing we had more scenes like this, as perverse as that sounds.

As other critics have noted, the script is at times a bit too lean, particularly when it comes to giving these characters or even providing much insight into Ben as a character prior to his infection. It’s not that this is necessarily a requirement, but as a fan of both chimps and Planet of the Apes, I kept hoping for at least some gesture toward helping us to feel the barest bit of sympathy for Ben, a creature brought into the human world and then turned into a monster by a force he has no control over. Fortunately, there are at least a few moments when we see the anguish he’s in, and there are even some signs he knows something is wrong, even if he can’t quite comprehend why he’s now filled with such murderous rage.

When it comes down to it, there’s just something uniquely terrifying and appealing about chimps, which helps to explain why we keep returning to them again and again in popular culture. As one of our closest living relatives–and as some of the most intelligent nonhuman animals–they hover in a strange liminal space, both eerily like and unlike us. This is particularly true in a film like Primate, which relies on practical effects and puppetry rather than CGI (except for some moments). Miguel Torres Umba does a fantastic job inhabiting Ben, and the practical effects may not make Ben into as realistic an ape as, say, Caesar from Planet of the Apes, but he’s definitely more terrifying. For all that he’s a killing machine, there are glimmers of a not-quite-human intelligence lurking behind those eyes, which is precisely what makes him such a dangerous enemy once the rabies-induced madness starts to take over.

And that, ultimately, is the irony of Ben going mad. As the tragic case of Charla Nash made clear back in 2009, even the tamest and most human-acculturated chimps are only one mild disturbance or moment from tearing a person apart. Even though the film doesn’t go too deeply into Ben’s backstory, there’s enough there to glean that he was, for all intents and purposes, raised as a human, and there are just enough glimpses of who he was to make us feel the pangs of sympathy for this creature forced to live in a human world for which is so manifestly ill-suited. Just like Travis, he’s a bit of the untamed wild just waiting to destroy the fragile human family and the civilization built atop it.

Primate is one of those genre-horror flicks that wears its influences on its sleeve, and one can see strands of everything from Cujo to “The Murders of the Rue Morgue”in its plot, themes, and execution. Its success owes much to Roberts’ skills as a filmmaker, his ability to take tried and true elements of the genre and use them in ways that hold us rapt and make us grip the arms of our chairs in terror. This film burrows deep in your brain and doesn’t let go, and I can’t wait to see what Roberts has in store for us next.

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Film reviews: ‘No Other Choice,’ ‘Dead Man’s Wire,’ and ‘Father Mother Sister Brother’

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Film reviews: ‘No Other Choice,’ ‘Dead Man’s Wire,’ and ‘Father Mother Sister Brother’

‘No Other Choice’

Directed by Park Chan-wook (R)

★★★★

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