Cast Away made you feel affinity with a volleyball; Everything Everywhere All At Once made you feel existential about a couple of rocks; now get ready to feel emotional about a shell. Adapted from the viral video shorts of the same name, Marcel The Shell With Shoes On performs a minor miracle of filmmaking. If a tiny talking invertebrate exoskeleton can make you cry, is there anything cinema can’t do?
It could so easily be a proposition to dismiss. Marcel, and the fanciful world he inhabits, are almost aggressively twee — a cutesiness the filmmakers happily lean into, from co-writer/co-creator Jenny Slate’s adorably childlike voice as Marcel, to the shell’s big single-eyed innocence, to the flagrant sweetness of the script. (“Guess why I smile a lot?” Marcel offers at one point. “Because it’s worth it.”)
But there is more to this film than just being extremely adorable. Apart from anything else, it is a thrilling testament to the power of animation. There’s nothing flashy about the traditional stop-motion techniques used here — basic hand-drawn lines denote smiles, for example — but the way it blends seamlessly into live-action footage makes it feel excitingly authentic, no acclimatisation required. Crisp macro cinematography and natural light gives the whole thing an organic texture. Visually, it’s a genuine one-of-a-kind.
That all injects a huge amount of pathos into the character of Marcel. As absurd as it sounds, you start to feel protective of this tiny little shell almost immediately; you care. If the animation takes you most of the way there, the delightful performances from Slate and others complete the spell. Dialogue is conversational, and seemingly semi-improvised, especially if the generous laughter from director Dean Fleischer Camp (who plays a semi-fictional version of himself, hovering on the edges of the frame) is anything to go by.
Slate and Fleischer Camp have taken what started out as an in-joke and turned it into a paean for finding your tribe.
Yet despite the loose approach and gentle pace, the script (by Slate, Fleischer Camp and Nick Paley) feels thoughtfully crafted. Much like last year’s Brian And Charles, another deeply uncynical mockumentary, Marcel embraces whimsy but is anything but shallow. There is real character depth here, through both laugh-out-loud silliness (“She’s from the garage, that’s why she has the accent,” Marcel explains of his grandmother’s heritage, in an oddball bit of worldbuilding) and through the thematic richness of grief, loneliness, family. Marcel wears his heart on his sleeve, but his limited understanding of the world does not equate to stupidity: when he becomes an internet hit, with TikTokers dancing on his front lawn, he is immediately wise to the hollowness of fame. “It’s an audience,” he says, gravely. “It’s not a community.”
That sense of connection feels like the thrust of the whole project. Slate and Fleischer Camp have taken what started out as an in-joke and turned it into a paean for finding your tribe. The kid-friendly vibe might put some off, but open yourself up to Marcel and you, too, could find yourself openly weeping at a stop-motion mollusk.
