Moving Pictures
May 05, 2023, 05:55AM

Marcel the Shell is Why All Moms Should Have Pot Gummies

An accidental film discovery leads to a profound world opinion.

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The “What should we watch tonight” debate is always tough, right? Netflix feeds the algorithm and makes recommendations based on what you’ve watched. Lately I’ve binged Hoarders while crying and eating ice cream in bed high, and I need to dial this back a little. I’d never been a fan of the show before, but the recent season hooked me. Terrible show to watch as an empath, how much I feel sorry for and become invested in these people’s lives is just too much.

The other night my girlfriend and I were watching TV, and I was accidentally higher than I meant to be thanks to a new recently acquired vape pen. I have a medical marijuana prescription for migraines. I told someone this recently and she said, “Oh, I was never much of a druggie back in the day,” and I raised an eyebrow at the word. We really need to get rid of this stigma—after all, pot was legalized in Maryland, it’s a plant, I'll take it over all the prescription drugs people are addicted to.

The pot gummies I take for both sleep and chronic pain are a blessing. I wish I had access to this while I was raising my four kids (on their next birthdays, my oldest of the four will be 30 and my youngest will be 18, so the parenting train has more or less left the station). I would’ve been so much more chill and had less anxiety. Those years went by in a flash and I was so stressed in so many ways.

Fast-forward to their next-gen Mom: a low-key stoner in her 50s who came out last year, makes candles on an island, has a husband she’s been with since high school and still loves, and a beautiful girlfriend she also loves. I usually say “bestie” for the comfort of others (isn't that what the Victorians called it?), but I have nothing to hide, no shame in what people keep annoyingly referring to as my "alternative lifestyle," and life is too short to give a shit about being judged by others.

She has better channels than me and puts on this movie called Marcel the Shell With Shoes On. I’ve never heard of it, but she’s telling me how famous it is. I can’t stop asking questions in the kind of way you only can when you’re high.

“What is even happening right now? Is this real?”

Because suddenly I’m watching like a little shell with one eye and sneakers who has an elegantly accented grandmother shell (foreign because she’s “from the garage”) navigate life by doing things like stepping in honey so it (he? she? they?) can climb up the wall.

“This is a talking shell and he’s funny and someone is making a documentary of… her? How old are they?”

I feel like being high is the only way to watch the one-eyed talking grown-baby shell wearing kicks. It doesn’t make sense unless you’re high. The shell has an understanding of its unorthodox situation and refers to it often, which is very validating when you’re high.I feel my efforts not to misgender a one-eyed fictional shell are admirable under the circumstances.

“What if they don’t find his or her family? This movie would never kill the grandmother, wait is this Disney? If it’s Disney, they would kill her.”

At this point, I can’t really discuss any major plot points of the film since I don’t accurately recall them. I did Google it and learn it was nominated as Best Animated Feature Film. I do have plans to watch it again, because I have a general sense that the writing is poignant, funny and unique. I wonder how watching it sober compares to watching it when you’re baked. I'm worried it’s not as good, so, backup plan, there’s always a bowl of ice cream and a pot gummy that say the second half of the movie is out of this world.


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