The Two Best Animated Movies of 2024 You Haven’t Seen Are About the Same

Content warning: the following discusses the death of a pet, so 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 beloved beloved cats (who had been diagnosed with cancer a few months earlier). A gray and white lover, he was part of our lives for almost 13 years. I’ve never met anyone, animal or human, who loved being petted by cats and other people as much as he did (or a cat that purred so loudly when it was happy). He was also a charming and lovable rascal weirdo who left us countless stories to tell ourselves with. To say that my family and I are heartbroken would be putting it mildly.

In my grief, as I have always done whenever I lose someone dear to me, I have been drawn to mediums that speak to my feelings. (Yes, for whatever reason, I’m probably an emotional sadist who only wants to watch sad things when I’m sad. Go ahead.) Apparently, I had already made plans to see what comes to an end the perfect movie for my current state of mind: “Memoir of a Snail.”

The latest “clayography” written and directed by Adam Elliot is loosely inspired by events in the Australian filmmaker’s real life. This centers on 2024’s critically acclaimed love interest Grace Pudel (portrayed as an adult by Sarah Snook of “Succession” fame, who speaks in her native Aussie accent to deliver a graceful, empathetic voice performance). Grace is, by her own admission, an introverted oddball in a family of oddballs. Growing up in 1970s Melbourne, Grace spends her youth being bullied (first because of her cleft lip and then, after going through puberty, her body type) and suffering a series of tragedies. This culminates in her and her fiercely loyal twin, Gilbert (voiced by Kodi Smit-McPhee as an adult) being sent to different foster homes – all neglectful or, in Gilbert’s case, downright abusive in their their own way – on opposite sides of the continent.

Over time, Grace retreats even further into herself, hoarding snails and snail-themed items to deal with her loneliness (including the homemade snail hat she’s worn since childhood ). As the film continued, though, it became clear to me that “Memoir of a Snail” has a surprising amount in common with another under-seen 2024 animated gem – one that, on the surface, appears to be worlds on separate

“Flow,” the critically acclaimed new animated feature from Latvian filmmaker Gints Zilbalodisabout as far from “Memoir of a Snail” as an animated film can get … that is, at a passing glance. Where the latter features almost non-stop voiceover 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 global and effective biblical. flood. “Flow” also takes place in what feels like a slightly fantastical version of the real world, while “Memoir of a Snail” is very much based in our reality, contrary to the this is what his stylized stop-motion images suggest.

In terms of their aesthetics and tone, the pair appear equally different. While “Memoir of a Snail” is shot in mostly locked-down compositions that draw from a fairly subdued color palette, “Flow” is brightly lit, with its virtual camera moves frequently like it would in an open world video game. (Not for nothing, Zilbalodis made his feature-length debut on the animated film similar video game “Away.”) Similarly, “Memoir of a Snail” has a predilection for quirky detail and raunchy whimsy that recalls the work of Jean-Pierre Jeunet (parents be warned, this is not a film for children), while “Flow” is a matter for the entire audience despite dealing with some heavy subject matter.

Global warming metaphors aside, however, “Flow” is basically about the same as “Memoir of a Snail.” All of them explore how we deal with loss and the life events that rock our world forever, setting us adrift (whether literally and/or figuratively). Losing a loved one or dealing with human bullies every day like Grace might seem like small potatoes compared to a real apocalyptic event, and there’s also a part of me that almost feels guilty for calling attention to my current woes in light of this. the unimaginable disaster that the people who work in LA have had to deal with since 2025 started. But “Flow,” like “Memoir of a Snail,” doesn’t minimize the personal suffering of its characters, no matter how insignificant it comes across in the grand scheme of things. Case in point: a scene in which one of the film’s animals is separated from a treasured object they have picked up – a rare source of comfort in the face of the environmental destruction taking place around them – is depicted with the same seriousness as anything else that happens in the story.

Friendship and the part it plays in allowing us to survive a cruel world is a recurring theme in Elliot’s filmsand “Memoir of a Snail” is no exception. As she gradually comes of age, Grace forms a very unexpected relationship with Pinky (a lovely Jacki Weaver), a much older and more experienced but even more extraordinary soul who becomes a pillar of support for Grace throughout her hardships and her bouts of self-esteem. sabotage. To be sure, “Atgof o Malwen” recognizes that we can often be our own worst enemies and that the people we care for, whether related by blood or members of our perceived family, are key to help us not only stay alive but also. also to overcome our worst impulses.

So it also goes with the black cat in “Flow,” who essentially acts as the main character of the film. Our nameless and deeply troubled four-legged hero spends most of the film panicking and nearly killing himself, all the while struggling to figure out how to coexist harmoniously with his fellows new – and quite different -. If that doesn’t make them one of the most relatable movie characters in all of 2024, then, suffice it to say, we’re very different people. Once again, however, it is only through the kindness and support of others (even the smallest gestures) that our guide makes it through thick and thin, a concept beautifully highlighted 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 to live full lives even in the face of dire circumstances, is another common thread in not only “Memoir o Malwen” and “Llif” but much of 2024 and recent metamodern cinema in general (see also: the partially animated documentary “The Remarkable Life of Ibelin” and “The Wild Robot” for two other great, relevant examples). It is an essential message that we could all take to heart as we move forward into the future, as well as being an important lesson that we all must learn at some point in our journeys our individual selves.

These films also know that it is impossible to express our true appreciation to those who have helped us along the way when the time comes to say goodbye to them. Still, the least we can do is take a moment and try, if only to briefly honor them, whether human or pet (no, friend) who made our hearts a little less lonely and fill even our darkest days with some much needed light.

“Memoir of a Snail” is currently streaming on AMC+. “Flow” is available to rent or buy on digital.