Release Date - February 14,

Cert - 15,

Run-time - 1 hour 34 minutes,

Director - Adam Elliott

Grace (Sarah Snook) reflects on her life of separation and tragedy, and the people who have offered hope and kindness

Often in the rush of a film festival I'll have three or four films booked in for one day. It sometimes means that when I want to sit in a dark room and think about the film that I've just seen there isn't much of an opportunity to do so, instead joining the queue for the next screening.

After seeing Memoir Of A Snail at last year's LFF I took a step aside; cancelling any other screenings that day, so I could digest and enjoy thinking about what I had just seen.

Early on we see the childhood version of Grace (Charlotte Belsey), the adult version (Sarah Snook) recounting her life to a snail in her back garden, being bullied in the school playground. Kids surround and taunt her. In response she bundles herself up tightly, tearing up and shaking, imagining a protective shell forming around her.

This simple visual idea landed a recognisable, knock-out emotional punch, and from there I was on the verge of tears throughout Adam Elliott's latest feature.

His first film since his feature debut, 2009's excellent Mary And Max, Memoir Of A Snail is a work of real sadness. Yet, through open honesty there's room for an effective sense of humour to both lighten and strengthen the emotional beats.

Elliott's style of stop-motion animation once again acknowledges the bumps and marks that we all carry, while giving the impression of a child's drawing - bringing an innocence to the central character as a child.

It also allows for the sillier humour to co-exist with the reflection of the world. When separated, Grace's brother Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee) is sent to live with an extremely devout Christian family who abuse him, one scene involving this is particularly hard to watch, where the sons are humorously named Wayne, Dwayne, Shayne and Ben. Meanwhile life-embracing elderly friend Pinky (Jacki Weaver) apparently used to work at a sausage and strip club called 'Shnitz 'N' Tits'.

Throughout there's a subtle quietness to the film which brings about the strong emotional impact. Simple images and moments within Elliott's beautifully written and understood screenplay which further connect you to the main character, made with the same heart which the finished film emits. It makes the joys all the more joyous and the upsets all the more crushing.

All of this comes from a sense of human understanding. Both the upsets and the uplifts and happiness, and the hope that sometimes this can flourish. Captured in a set of characters who, visually and thematically, capture a sense of hope in the world.

There's a real weight to the film throughout it's short, breezy run-time. It might take some time and pain, but characters embrace themselves, what they love and their place in the world; and it's wonderful to see. All because, like those who support Grace, Adam Elliott cares about his characters and those who may feel like them.

Five stars