
Set in a post-apocalyptic world where humanity is gone, but their past is still present, Flow utilizes this setting to create a beautiful world for its protagonist, a gorgeous black cat, to explore. The Latvian film directed by Gints Zilbalodis subjects the wonderfully rendered cat to a flood of biblical proportions forcing it to explore the world and cooperate with other animals against its natural instincts.
Cat traverses the flooded landscape on a boat it happens upon populated by a capybara which it is understandably tentative of. The makeshift crew of the boat expands to include a ring-tailed lemur, a labrador whom Cat had encountered before the flood, and a secretarybird. While in nature the animals would be at the best ambivalent to each other if not outright hostile, the boat brings with it an unspoken truce between the animals as they look to exist in the strange new world.
Zilbalodis shows real restraint in his characterization of the animals that inhabit the film. While most films would lean on humanizing the wild animals, each one feels genuine to its species when interacting in the world. This is captured both in small moments inserted into the film to remind the viewers they are watching animals (a moment of Cat chasing a sun sport as reflected in Lemur’s mirror stands out) as well as behaviors exhibited throughout. For example, Cat frequently retreats to the top of the mast for a solitary moment amongst the chaos of the animals. Likewise, Capybara is aloof and flops down on the deck of the boat to rest at random times. Most importantly, the animals never speak a language outside of their own noises, yet the feelings and motivations of each animal can clearly always be ascertained.
By keeping the animals so honest to their animalistic selves, the peril they experience as well as the joy hit the viewer more emotionally than a personified version would. Cat’s meows hit a nerve that any owner of felines understands intimately and caused this black cat owner to long to be reunited with her furball.
The only real exception to this naturalist portrayal of the animals is that they all seem to inherently know how to use the rutter to steer the boat, a job which Secretarybird takes point on once it joins the boat, but which each animal takes its turn at. This singular task is required for the animals to be able to successfully explore the newly aquatic world, but quickly falls into the realm of suspended disbelief as the rest of the animals’ behaviors feel so genuine to their species.
Another undeniable strength of the film is its visuals. The art is stylized in a way the eschews photorealism for a look that allows the animals to be more expressive, with giant eyes which speak wonders. Everything in the film is brilliantly colored in a fantastical way which while unrealistic compliments the magical essence of the situation. The remains of human civilization that the animals navigate feel both futuristic and ancient, which adds to the mystery of the world in which the animals live.
Flow is a perfect antidote to the American animation scene where even the best of films are filed with one liners and a constant state of irony left over from the 90s. The genuineness of the Latvian feature allows the viewer to connect more closely with the characters even though they don’t speak a word. Beautiful both in image and plot, Flow is the peak of what the animated medium can accomplish when allowing the creators to think outside of the snarky box in which most US animated studios reside.














