Mary and Max
Mary Daisy Dinkle is a chubby young girl living in Mount Waverley, who is teased and ostracised because of her weight, and also because of a small brown birthmark on her forehead.
Meanwhile, Max Jerry Horowitz is a morbidly obese lapsed Jew with Asperger’s syndrome, living in New York.
Together, they form a transatlantic friendship – penfriends whose relationship is at the heart of the animated feature film Mary and Max.
It begins when Mary writes to Max (whom she selects randomly from a New York telephone book), to ask where babies come from. She’s aware that in Australia, babies come from the bottom of beer glasses (or so her mother has told her), but can’t help but wonder if that’s true the world over.
Mary and Max are both isolated, lonely, and out of their element. Mary is missing out on the social bonding typical for a girl of her age, and Max, with his “so-called” disability, struggles at times, in the bustling metropolis that is New York, and which is excruciatingly chaotic.
Although he’s an adult, Max’s frank and simplistic communication makes him an ideal companion for Mary, whose youthful curiosity and guilelessness matches his own lack of social etiquette.
Their correspondence lasts twenty years, and becomes a treasured friendship for both of them, spanning many changes over the course of Mary’s life. Other characters in the film include an agoraphobic wheelchair-bound neighbour, Mary’s teetering alcoholic mother, and a handsome Greek boy who lives over the road.
Visually, the style of this film is similar to Elliot’s previous work. The notable exception is the sophisticated cinematography, thanks to the employment of a specialist in this field: the lighting, and the way the camera moves through the elaborately hand-crafted sets, is breathtaking.
Like other animators, and cartoonists, Elliot’s characters have a particular look about them, yet they are all distinctive. He enhances their characterisation with descriptions of their smell, in the voiceover: one character smells like lemon dishwashing detergent, while Max smells like licorice and pickled onion.
The soundtrack is charming and eclectic: ranging from the camp tones of Burt Kaempfert’s Swinging Safari, to the simple elegance of Kats-Chernin’s piano tunes.
Barry Humphrey’s voiceover fits perfectly with the film, and Phillip Seymour Hoffman is practically unrecognisable as Max. The only time there’s a slight hint of the actor in the sound booth, is when we hear Toni Collette as the older Mary. Still, that’s a minor point.
Mary and Max is about the human need to belong, to interact with others, and to be loved. It also speaks of alienation, loneliness and despair, but in Adam Elliot’s typically poignant and humorous fashion. It also questions the ever-expanding notion of “disability”. Frequently, those who are disabled don’t see themselves as disabled. Like many politically correct labels, the motivations in choosing this nomenclature may have been kind, but in reality, it’s quite insulting.
Elliot is also suggesting - if we care to look - that we are all “disabled” in some way, at some point during our lives. And even those of us who aren’t born with a so-called disability, are bound to encounter times when we don’t function optimally. We all have our challenges and ultimately, we need to be more accepting of those foibles within ourselves and in those we encounter during our lives.
Adam Elliot has said that this film is suitable for a very broad audience (except very young children), recommending that those between eight and eighty would enjoy it. That’s true, to a point. However, it’s important to note that there are a couple of very dark moments in the film, which may or may not go over children’s heads, but which adults may or may not want their children to experience.
Mary and Max is a special film, from a special filmmaker: a talented animator, yes, but most importantly, a social observer, and humanist.