Grace's life is only half full of glass. Her mother died during childbirth, unable to cope with the pressure of the twins, and the baby herself was born with a physical illness. But all her childhood was surrounded by the care and love of her father and younger brother, with whom they had much in common, such as twin burn scars and a love for reading.
However, the father, who was mired in self-pity, did not live long either, so the children were divided into two families on opposite shores of Australia. The girl got a wonderful nudist swinger family from Canberra, but her brother became a member of a fundamentalist sect practicing child labor and electric shock torture.
Foster parents, always busy with adult activities with other families, could not find time to raise a child. So Grace took refuge in the company of an elderly neighbor with dementia and a habit of perming. After all, unlike other people, the extravagant old lady was lenient about her unhealthy obsession with gastropods.
In the faded existence of the main character of the movie “Memoir of a Snail” there are two vents. The first is her brother, with whom the girl keeps in touch by correspondence and dreams of meeting one day to scatter her father's ashes on a roller coaster. The second is snails of all shapes and sizes, from live ones to ceramic figurines and knitted hats with eyes on stems.
There isn't a single “normal” person around Grace. Some people practice pyromania or exhibitionism, while others suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder or Alzheimer's disease. However, in a world of broken and imperfect people, only the main character, being constantly bullied, is forced to hide from others in her own snail shell.
One of the characters in the painting is engaged in the Japanese art of kintsugi — restoring broken ceramic objects so that all cracks remain visible. And it seems that everyone around Grace does this with their deviations: expressing them in the most obvious way to the amusement or displeasure of the public.
Vulnerable and lonely, Grace, even as an adult woman, can't just as easily flaunt her poorly glued pieces of soul. She is ashamed of the past and avoids the future, as if she is afraid that, when she comes out of the shell, she will be thrown into the mercy of a hostile world. Her “hideout” is not only a physical space filled with snails where she hides from ridicule, but also a psychological barrier against pain, an impenetrable wall of silence and stiffness.
Grace's protective sink seems to her the only safe place where she is not bullied by classmates, angry neighbors, or judgmental views. However, along with the illusion of calm, it also brings excessive weight, slowing down every step to snail speed. A person accustomed to hiding behind a wall of alienation for years ceases to notice the beauty of the world around him, which glides by in the dull silence of fear.
The paradox of such a protective shell lies in the fact that it not only gives a sense of security, but also steals a sense of belonging to society. On the one hand, by hiding in it, you can avoid the blows of the outside world, and on the other hand, you can lose free breathing, the joy of discovery and a clear outlook on life. It is only by dropping this burden that Grace can learn that the world is not limited to the sad corner in which fate has thrown her.
It seems to the girl that life itself is stubbornly pushing her to the stuffy sink. At first it was so, but then, getting used to the heavy burden, she continued to strengthen the walls on her own with the fear of the world around her. And the longer Grace wears the protective shell on herself, the stronger it becomes. Escaping from reality turns into a habit that no longer saves you, but pulls you down like a heavy shell.
“Memoir of a Snail” show that if fragility is part of human nature, it can also become a source of strength. Having accepted the true weight of pain and fear, a person can realize that he is not much different from a snail that goes exclusively forward. Although the heavy burden leaves wounds on your soul, it is the golden cracks in kintsugi that turn into a unique pattern of life and happiness.
