Content Warning: The following discusses the death of a pet, so please proceed with caution.

At the time of writing, it has only been a few days since my family and I said goodbye to one of our dearly beloved cats (who was diagnosed with cancer a few months earlier). A gray and white darling, he was a part of our lives for almost 13 years. I have never met anyone, animal or human, who loves to be petted and hugged by other cats and people like him (not even a cat that purred so loudly when it was happy). He was also a charmingly lecherous and lovable weirdo who left us with countless anecdotes to cheer ourselves up. To say that my family and I are heartbroken would be an understatement.

In my grief, as I always do when I lose someone dear to me, I found myself drawn to the media that spoke to my feelings. (Yes, for whatever reason, I'm clearly an emotional sadist who only really likes to watch sad things when I'm sad. Go figure it out.) As coincidence would have it, I had already made plans to check out the perfect movie for my current state. of the mind: "The Snail's Memoirs."

The latest "clayography" written and directed by Adam Elliott is loosely inspired by the events of the Australian director's real life. This unprecedented critical darling from 2024 centers on Grace Poodle (portrayed as an adult by Sarah Snook of Socession fame, who speaks in her native Australian accent to deliver a graceful, empathetic voice-over performance). Grace is, by her own admission, the introverted oddball in a family of oddballs. Growing up in 1970s Melbourne, Grace spends her youth being bullied (first for her cleft lip and then, after going through puberty, her body type) and enduring a series of tragedies. This culminates in her and her fiercely loyal, protective twin brother Gilbert (voiced by Cody Smith-McPhee as an adult) being sent to different foster homes - each neglectful or, in Gilbert's case, openly abusive in their own way - on opposing sides. on the continent.

Over time, Grace retreats even further into herself, collecting snails and snail-themed objects to cope with her loneliness (including the homemade snail hat she's worn since she was little). As the movie went on, however, it occurred to me that The Snail Memoirs has something remarkably in common with another unseen animated gem from 2024 — one that, on the surface, seems like a world apart.

Flow, the highly acclaimed new animated feature from Latvian director Gints Zilbalodisis about as far removed from The Snail Memoirs as an animated film can get...that is, at a glance. Where the latter features a virtually non-stop voice-over narration from Snook, "Flow" is completely dialogue-free. It follows a pack of animals (a black cat, a yellow Labrador retriever, a ring-tailed lemur, a capybara, and a secretary bird) as they find themselves stuck together in the same small boat trying to survive a catastrophic and effectively biblical global flood. Flow also takes place in what appears to be a somewhat fantasy version of the real world, while Memoirs of a Snail is based very much in our reality, contrary to what the stylized stop-motion imagery might suggest.

In terms of their aesthetics and tone, the pair seem equally different. While "Memoir of a Snail" is shot in mostly subdued compositions that draw from a rather muted color palette, "Flow" is brightly lit, with its virtual camera often moving like an open-world video game. (Not for nothing, Zilbalodis made his feature debut the similar video game-inspired animated film Away.In the same vein, Memoirs of a Snail has a penchant for odd details and wry whimsy reminiscent of the work of Jean-Pierre Jeunet (parents be warned, this is not a film for children), while Flow is an all-out affair. audience despite dealing with some difficult subject matter.

Global warming metaphors aside, however, "The Flow" is basically the same thing as "Memoirs of a Snail." Each one explores how we deal with loss and life events that forever shake our world, putting us at a distance (be it literally and/or figuratively). Losing a loved one or dealing with everyday human bullies the way Grace does can seem like small potatoes compared to a truly apocalyptic event, and there's also a part of me that almost feels guilty for drawing attention to my current troubles. in the light of the unfathomable disaster that the people of Los Angeles I work with have had to deal with from 2025 it started. But Flow, like Memoirs of a Snail, does not minimize the personal suffering of its characters, no matter how trivial it may appear in the grand scheme of things. Case in point: a scene where one of the film's animals is separated from the precious object they've taken - a rare source of comfort in the face of the environmental destruction unfolding around them - is treated with the same seriousness as everything else that happens in the story.

Friendship and the role it plays in enabling us to survive in a harsh world is a recurring theme in Eliot's films.and Memoirs of a Snail is no exception. As she gradually comes of age, Grace forms a most unexpected bond with Pinkie (a wonderful Jackie Weaver), a much older and more experienced but even more idiosyncratic soul who becomes a pillar of support for Grace throughout her many hardships and bouts of self-sabotage. Of course, Memoir of a Snail recognizes that we can often be our own worst enemies, and that the people we care about, whether they are blood or found family members, help us not only stay alive, but also so that we overcome our worst impulses.

So it goes with the black cat in "Flow", who essentially acts as the film's protagonist. Our nameless and utterly distraught four-legged hero spends most of the film panicking and nearly getting killed, all the while struggling to figure out how to coexist harmoniously with his newfound—and incredibly different—companions. If that doesn't make him one of the most iconic movie characters in all of 2024, then, suffice it to say, we're very different people. Again, though, it's only through the kindness and support of others (even the smallest gestures) that our lead gets through thick and thin, a concept beautifully portrayed by the symmetry of the film's opening and closing shots.

The importance of community (regardless of shape or size) and the role it plays in supporting the most vulnerable members of society, helping them live full lives even in the face of difficult circumstances, is another common thread in not only Memoirs of a Snail ” and “Flow”, but a lot of 2024 and recent metamodern cinema in general (see also: the partially animated documentary The Extraordinary Life of Ibelin and "The Wild Robot" for two other relevant, terrifying examples). It's a vital message we could all take to heart as we move into the future, and an important lesson we all need to learn at some point in our individual journeys.

These movies also know that it's impossible to truly express our gratitude to those who helped us along the way when it's time to say goodbye. However, the least we can do is take a moment and try, just briefly, to pay tribute to those, whether they're people or a pet (no, friend) who have made our hearts a little less lonely and filled them even and our darkest days with some much needed light.

"Memoir of a Snail" is currently airing on AMC+. Flow is available to rent or buy digitally.