Flow is an animated fable about a common black cat who must fight to survive as the forest he inhabits is flooded by a sudden tsunami. Along the way, he encounters other stranded animals—a dog, a capybara, a ring-tailed lemur, and a secretary bird. Together they board a boat in search for higher ground and reluctantly work to survive the elements as they float along, not knowing where the current will take them.
The world of Flow is shrouded in mystery. From the first scene, you experience the world from the perspective of the cat and when the secluded forest is suddenly deluged, like the cat, you must use your intellect and surroundings to put the pieces together. The land is littered with artifacts hinting at a previous civilization, such grand European architecture and cat statues of all sizes. Even the animals on the boat are a conundrum, helping further paint the picture of this peculiar fantasy land: a capybara from Latin America, a lemur from Madagascar, a secretary bird from Africa, a Labrador Retriever from presumably America.
What happened before the events of the film that allowed this strange mix of animals to end up in the same place? Are they remnants of an abandoned zoo? Is this a completely different universe than our own? What’s the purpose of all the wooden cat statues? Why is the cabin abandoned? Who was the cat’s previous owner? Many of these questions are left unanswered in the end, which is ironically satisfying in an odd sort of way.
Having no dialogue, it’s crucial that the other cinematic aspects—the story, visuals, animation, sound design, and score—of the film are on pointe: And Latvian director Gints Zilbalodis artfully over delivers on each. Visually, Flow is stunning. From the earthy color palette to the cel-shaded animation, each frame is a feast. The rare exception is the pack of dogs, whose animation feels incomplete or partially rendered (giving Nintendo DS Nintendogs vibes). The film being animated entirely in open-source animation software Blender is a spectacular feat in itself, but also gives it this cool raw, amateurish feel, much like the fan animation videos you find on YouTube for your favorite video game.
Speaking of video games, the premise and atmosphere feel similar to the ’90s computer game Myst, where you play a unspeaking, first-person protagonist who wakes up on a quiet eerie island with no instructions on how to survive or what the directive is. But if you want to survive, you must start walking around, exploring, and piecing clues together. This is precisely the setup of Flow and it works perfectly.
While there are fantasy elements to this film, which slowly unfurl as you float along, the majority of the film is grounded in reality. Namely, the animals do not talk and are not anthropomorphic. The animals act as real animals would, putting parameters on what they can do, how they can interact, and what we can expect from them. The cat and lemur don’t suddenly have mysterious superpowers that allow them to transcend their situation, but rather rely on their animal nature. Their survival instinct forces them to work together to overcome their prejudices and fears as they’re stranded on the rickety boat.
The pace of Flow is slow, allowing the viewer to look around and take in the extraordinary scenery. You can feel the green grass, you can hear the wind in the trees, you can hear the hooves of a heard of deer run by in the distance. Having no dialogue is a blessing as there’s no urgency to get the viewer up to speed by exposition dumping. Much like a Studio Ghibli film, the visuals and sounds of nature do the talking.
There are action moments that pick up the pace; however, looking at the film as a whole, the film ambles along at a comfortable pace, not trying to prove a point or cram in too much. And it’s this deliberate pace that is one of the keys to the film’s success. It trusts the viewer to be inquisitive and pick up on what’s happening, just as it trusts the cat. True to its name, it goes with the flow.
Flow is an appropriate name for the film as the concept is infused in nearly every scene. From the meandering pace and unhurried time for exploration to the movement of animals and water, there are many opportunities to witness flow in action. And with that space, comes time to reflect on the themes, messages, and takeaways from this tremendously unique film.
The hallmark of a great movie is that it leaves you thinking and asking question upon viewing. Flow not only does that during the movie, as you’re picking up clues and trying to put the puzzle pieces together, but it also leaves you pondering the film’s mysteries and message long after the credits roll.
2024 has been a year filled with excellent animated films, but Flow is a dark horse, defying expectations for independent animated films. It is a phenomenal film. Flow is takes a different path in that it trusts itself and the viewers, takes things slow, and transcends the medium. You’ll thoroughly enjoy the journey on which Flow‘s current takes you.
★★★★★
