Cat is a solitary animal, but as its home is devastated by a great flood, he finds refuge on a boat populated by various species, and will have to team up with them despite their differences.
Animation, as a genre, often attracts attention for its visual artistry, and Flow is no exception. However, this film, directed by Gints Zilbalodis, manages to distinguish itself not by relying on the technological grandeur of studios like Disney, Pixar, or DreamWorks but by focusing on a unique blend of storytelling and artistic expression. In a world where big-budget animation dominates, Flow offers a refreshing take that speaks to the soul of the medium—an exploration of narrative through movement, atmosphere, and subtle character dynamics.
At its core, Flow is a minimalist film. It foregoes dialogue and narration, a bold choice in a medium where storytelling is often driven by spoken words. Instead, it places the onus on the animation to convey emotion, relationships, and plot progression. This approach demands a higher level of engagement from the audience. Without the comfort of dialogue to explain the world, viewers are invited to interpret the subtleties of movement, the quirks of the characters, and the intricate dynamics of their environment. This method may not appeal to everyone, as it creates a viewing experience that can feel more passive—like observing someone play a video game. However, for those willing to engage with it, Flow offers an invigorating and meditative journey.
The film centres on a black cat, a solitary creature navigating a world transformed by a near-biblical flood. The floodwaters rise, engulfing the forest in mere seconds, and from that point on, the cat struggles to survive in a strange new waterworld. The absence of human characters is notable; their presence is felt only through the remnants of civilization that occasionally appear in the background, half-submerged beneath the water. This gives the film a strangely video game-like atmosphere, where the cat is both a participant and an observer in a world reshaped by forces beyond its control.
One of Flow’s greatest strengths is its choice of animals, each of which carries a well-established set of characteristics that help define their roles within the story. The black cat, for instance, is portrayed with the familiar traits of aloofness and independence often associated with felines. Labradors, known for their loyalty and fun-loving nature, add a layer of warmth and companionship, while lemurs are depicted as resourceful and slightly obsessive hoarders. Capybaras, renowned for their friendliness and lazy disposition, contribute a sense of calm and laid-back charm to the group dynamic. By leaning into these well-known stereotypes, the film is able to build character depth without the need for extensive backstories. Viewers can instantly connect with these animals on a deeper level, recognising traits they’ve seen in real life, which in turn adds to the film’s charm.
Though the animation may not match the hyper-realism that we’ve come to expect from modern animated films, Flow is visually stunning in its own right. Zilbalodis’s style favours bold colours and broad strokes over intricate details. For instance, while the animals’ fur may not be rendered with the same minute attention to detail as in some blockbuster animations, the film compensates with vivid hues, striking sunsets, and a breathtaking depiction of water. The animation of water in particular stands out as one of the most beautiful aspects of the film. It flows and swells with a life of its own, almost becoming a character in the story as the cat battles against the rising tide.
Where the film truly excels is in its character animation. The black cat, the protagonist of this adventure, is brought to life with remarkable realism. The way the cat reacts to its environment, the way its ears twitch or its tail sways, and even the subtle changes in its pupils all contribute to a character that feels authentic. These small details, which may go unnoticed at first glance, are a testament to the artistry behind the film. Every motion, from a hesitant step to a defensive arch of the back, conveys the cat’s emotions and responses to the challenges it faces in this new world.
In a film without dialogue, sound design takes on a crucial role in storytelling, and Flow handles this beautifully. The sounds of the animals—the meows, barks, and chirps—help define their personalities and communicate their thoughts and feelings in ways that dialogue never could. The ambient sounds of the environment, from the gentle lapping of water to the rustling of leaves, further immerse the viewer in the world of Flow. The sound and animation work together to create a film that is emotionally resonant, even in its quietest moments.
Despite its visual and auditory beauty, Flow isn’t without its challenges. The plot is relatively simplistic, and towards the end, it can become somewhat confusing. The minimalism that gives the film its unique charm also means that certain elements are left unexplained. The film doesn’t spoon-feed answers to the audience, which can be both a strength and a weakness, depending on the viewer’s expectations. For some, the lack of concrete resolution might be frustrating, while others may appreciate the open-ended nature of the narrative, allowing for personal interpretation.
Thematically, Flow is a film about trust, companionship, and survival. At the heart of the story is the black cat, a wary and independent creature who gradually learns to rely on others. This journey towards trust and friendship is handled with a light touch, embedded in the narrative in a way that feels organic rather than preachy. It’s a message that resonates, particularly in a film aimed at younger audiences. The importance of friendship, cooperation, and mutual trust is conveyed with clarity, yet never over-emphasised, making it a wonderful film for children and adults alike.
The world of Flow is one of wonder and mystery. The animals drift through a landscape that is both familiar and strange, a place where the remnants of human civilization peek through the water’s surface. There’s a sense of melancholy in these scenes, as the animals passively witness the aftermath of a world that no longer belongs to them. Yet, there’s also beauty in this new reality—the night skies are breathtaking, the water shimmers with life, and the creatures that inhabit this world are weird and wonderful. Flow doesn’t seek to explain everything, and that’s part of its charm. The unanswered questions add to the allure of the world, inviting viewers to lose themselves in its quiet, contemplative atmosphere.
Flow is a beautifully-made, deeply cinematic film that offers an emotional experience rather than a traditional narrative. It is a film about survival, friendship, and the resilience of the spirit in the face of overwhelming odds. Though it may not appeal to everyone, particularly those looking for a fast-paced, dialogue-driven story, it is a film that rewards patience and introspection. With its captivating animation, stunning sound design, and heartfelt message, Flow stands as a testament to the power of animation as a storytelling medium.
Flow is one of 105 films screening as part of the Whānau Mārama New Zealand International Film Festival (NZIFF)
The full programme of 2024 films is outlined here.
Tickets can be booked online at www.nziff.co.nz