Man, am I indebted to the Alamo Drafthouse for playing a bonzer Chiko Roll commercial right before the movie. I would’ve had no idea what they were chowing down on.
Bless yer cotton socks, what a dark and dreamy treat! It’s been fifteen long years since renegade stop-motion wizard Adam Elliot gifted the world Mary & Max and as it turns out, the wait was worth it with this impeccably designed, sad yet defiantly hopeful treatise on the emotional cages we create for ourselves and why “this goddamn life” is for living.
The tell-tale dog and cat fuzz found on my person any given day is indeed a “lonely person’s glitter.”
Elliot’s dank, yet never dull aesthetic has lost none of its whimsical eccentricities and the tale of two twins, both subjected to numerous traumas and tortures by a society run by hypocrites and manipulators, is one that warms the heart while rarely drifting into maudlin territory. Sarah Snook’s snail-obsessed Grace (who in turn is standing in for Elliot’s own fondness for the slow-moving gastropods) has such gentle qualities that we’re immediately drawn to her plight and the travails of her pyro-obsessed brother Gilbert, voiced by Kodi Smit-McPhee. Elliot expertly explores both religious hypocrisy (and the horrific practice of conversion therapy) as well as the subtle methods abuse can alter the perceptions of those who endure it. Through a dueling narrative, we’re introduced to a plethora of grotesquely rendered, yet undeniably fascinating characters, chief among them the effervescent Pinky, gloriously voiced by Jacki Weaver. Like a latter-day Maude (as in Harold &) who happened to bang John Denver in a helicopter, she’s ultimately Grace’s savior and the one who brings the melancholy hoarder of all things snail out of her metaphorical shell.
Stunning details in production design never get in the way of the story, which is traditional but presented in Elliot’s expectedly acidic, adult-oriented voice. Key parties, the color beige, De-Satanizers, Kintsugi performed by a chubby chaser, and playing ping pong with Fidel Castro are just a small handful of the wild shit that goes down in this Aussie effort and the writer/director is nothing if not truthful: “Masturbation was the thief of time.” The ending remains a tad predictable and the flights of fancy might come off as too extreme to some, but this is an undeniably affecting and lovely work of animation. Besides, it’s gonna make you wanna crack open a book asap! Just be sure not to spill yer Vegemite sandwich on the pages, Mademoiselle Escargot!