Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Throughout the awards season, we’ll get around to some much-discussed films that we didn’t previously review.

Towards the end of 2022, Marcel the Shell with Shoes On still has much staying power. I did get around to watching it earlier this year when I was likely in the middle of some exhausting project for Films Fatale, and I was keeping this film and how I feel about it on the back burner should it stand a chance during the awards season. Part of the issue was whether or not this stop motion film even constitutes as an animated feature as per the guidelines of various academies, since there is a considerable amount of interaction with live action elements and actual people. Lo and behold, not only does Marcel the Shell with Shoes On qualify, but it is championed by the masses (it just secured a Golden Globe nomination, for starters, and the sky’s the limit for this humble little film). The success story doesn’t start in 2022, rather this feature stems from a YouTube short (and its followups) starring the same titular shell, created by Dean Fleischer Camp and Jenny Slate (the latter who voices Marcel). While just a “recording” of Marcel being a small little shell and showcasing how he lives in quirky ways, the video proved to be a hit on the site, and so a feature was destined. What can be made of such a brief and basic premise, though? Could there be actual depth extracted from the original shorts?

Lo and behold, Fleischer Camp and Slate made the most of the small premise by turning the feature adaptation, Marcel the Shell with Shoes On, into a meta take on the success of the original shorts. Marcel lives in an Airbnb with his ailing grandmother, Connie (oh, and also his ball of lint that gets treated like a dog on a leash). A documentary filmmaker named Dean (clearly director Dean somewhat playing himself) moves in and discovers Marcel; he also learns that Marcel’s family is actually a lot larger, but everyone else was taken away during a nasty divorce between the two original owners of the house. Marcel and Connie made the most of the abandoned house and all of the mechanisms created by the shells and other lost objects that make up Marcel’s family. Seeing how they go about their daily routines is such a treat in and of itself, as if the original YouTube videos now feel more than just cute: they’re downright magical with the generous budget the film had compared to the original YouTube clips.

Marcel tries to find his family by posting about himself online (luckily, filmmaker Dean is there to help), and here’s where that meta angle comes in. Marcel becomes an overnight sensation, but he isn’t fond of being a celebrity after a while. He just wants to be reunited with his family, and this quest is even more urgent once grandma Connie starts showing signs of deterioration (a subplot that absolutely broke my heart and had me tearing up time and time again). While Marcel the Shell with Shoes On could have rested on its cuteness factor alone, instead there is an effort to make something far more pure and honest. We don’t just gawk at Marcel like we would some other shamefully-created characters meant to just have us stupidly commenting on how sweet they are and feeling compelled to purchase merchandise and attend a plethora of sequels (but we must because cuteness is the only thing art needs in order to be worthwhile). We get a genuine connection to little Marcel and care about his wellbeing, as we hope for a happy ending in his mission. On a side note, I did purchase my girlfriend an official A24 Marcel figurine, but that’s because we both bonded with him and were invested enough to want one of our own (take notes: you can make a cute animated character that’s still worth more than surface-level, lazy writing).

As a result, Marcel the Shell with Shoes On is a film that both warms your heart and pulls on its strings when the time is right. It goes quite far despite being adapted from such a simplistic source material, but it also feels like it can only go so far (this is apparent with how quickly the film wraps up, despite how touching its resolution may be). Otherwise, Marcel the Shell with Shoes On is the kind of animated feature that makes me question everything around me and has my ADHD riddled brain — always so easily amused and itching creatively — chasing for more imaginative answers to my normalcies (buying the Marcel figurine definitely helped my silly, fictional hypotheses about what goes on around me helped; no, I’m not endorsed by A24 and wish I was). Life felt a little different for me after Marcel the Shell with Shoes On, whether it’s the pretending of the activity that takes place in the shadows of my own home, or having to grapple with the inevitability that we will all grow old and die some day (time is very limited, and we must share it with those we care about as much as possible).

There’s also something tangible here about self respect in the digital age. As creative as the film is with how Marcel and company live — as well as how Marcel gets discovered online and responds to his newly found fame — there is also an equally important observation of Marcel figuring out his own place in the world and where he wishes to devote his energy. It can feel nice to be seen in this day and age, but we can also lose sight of what matters if we’re chasing the wrong recognition (that of strangers and not those we love). Marcel himself never gets wrapped up as an attention farmer, and I’m happy the film doesn’t get distracted (in the same way it wants Marcel to stay focused). It’s almost like Fleischer Camp and Slate are speaking to us post-YouTube fame: Marcel the Shell with Shoes On could exist, but it had to be done right and not for additional clicks. It was made to create a legitimate connection with viewers far more than a quick, viral video ever could. It’s tough to tell where visual entertainment is going now that the shortest clips are what get shared the most online, but Marcel the Shell with Shoes On is at least an argument for the case of long form viewing: a lasting impact will always win ahead of cursory responses for clicks. This is true in the artistic and impressionable senses, anyway.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.