Flow

The animated film is transcendent and a must-watch

An animated Latvian film without any dialogue following a nameless cat as it survives a biblical flood sounds like the cliché cineaste catnip. Yet it is a very real film that has hit theaters and is making waves both on screen and off as one of the most unique animated excursions.

Flow follows a black cat, who inhabits a world seemingly abandoned by humanity. Traces of us still remain, statues, homes, and temples, crumbling and being taken back by nature. When a cataclysmic flood hits our cat’s forest, it is forced to collaborate with five disparate animals on a drifting sailboat to survive.

Flow is Gints Zilbalodis’ second feature film, and he dons as many creative hats as possible, writing, editing, composing, producing, and designing the cinematography for the film. Flow dons a watercolor matte animation style, which distinguishes it from most other animation of today. However, Zilbalodis also utilizes computer animation to give his film three dimensions. This frees the camera to have sweeping, long takes. Zilbalodis takes advantage of the freedoms of the animated style to have shots going in and out of water and soaring through the air for 5-10 minutes at a time. This immersive camera style helps bring the survivalist stakes to the fore.

Flow delivers a rather straightforward apocalypse story structure; a group of disparate survivors must team up to find their way from point A to B. However, Flow brings much deeper philosophical questions to the fore than other apocalyptic fare. It features biblical allegories, warnings of climate change, transcendentalist thought, and even commentaries on humanity’s dooming attitudes of materialism, selfishness, the culture of individualism. From that description Flow might sound like a dense slog, yet it is a crisp 1 hour and 24 mins, transmitting its questions thanks to its simplicity rather than its complexity.

The lack of dialogue also helps Flow come into its own, using other cinematic tools to tell its story and distinguish its characters instead. This also helps add to the ambiguity; with no text to define the film. As a result, if you were to go with a group of friends to see Flow, you will likely to each have a completely different take on what the film was about. At its base, Flow can be read as a literal family survivalist story, which means the film works to entertain children while the adults ponder their existence.

Flow is remarkable because of what it’s able to do with so little. Each of the animals become distinct personalities and characters by the times the credits roll, with contradictions, flaws, and appeals. Yet, Zilbalodis never anthropomorphizes and makes them speak, using only their screeches and growls, and choice animalistic behaviors. Flow is an example of Dennis Villeneueve’s controversial championing of cinema that is able to tell its story with visual tools rather than dialogue. It was something that Charles Chaplin himself fought to retain as he continued making silent films after sound had become a common feature in cinematic releases in the early 1930s, giving many filmmakers “cheat codes” in how to tell all stories.

Flow is a deeply thought-provoking film, with empathy, pathos, and a brisk simplicity that makes it accessible for viewers of any level. For those animation nerds looking for a deep cut, it will remind them of The Red Turtle (2016), but with a more pared down narrative and less obvious in its symbolism. The result is one of the most transporting, surprising, and unique cinematic experiences in a cinema in recent years.

9.5/10